CHAPTER TEN

While things seem somewhat normal around the office considering our employers are no longer with us, things at the Darling residence are anything but, and I’m starting to get very worried about him.

I realize in hindsight that I probably shouldn’t have slipped several notes, each with handwritten thoughts about grief and hope, in through the little pet door. I needed to do something to show him he’s not completely alone and since he refuses to speak to me, I’m hoping he knows I care.

“What are you doing next weekend? I heard a new Goodwill just opened in Elmsford.”

Toni shrugs as a quick apology slips from her lips. “New?” She laughs. “I still don’t see the appeal of buying other people’s used things.”

I huff, slightly annoyed at her comment because thrift store shopping and yard sale hopping was something my mother and I used to do almost once a month until Sean came along. His protests and complaints about how he made more than enough money won over my claims of spending time and enjoying the activity with my mom.

“Melissa and I are heading down into the city to see a show.”

“Oh.” The single word contains my dismay and disappointment. Throughout my marriage to Sean, most of my close friends had been replaced by his and when we divorced, they chose him. Toni was the one person he couldn’t keep away from me since she and I worked together.

“Wanna grab drinks tomorrow night?” Toni asks as we part ways at the end of a long week.

I shake my head. “Dinner, maybe, but drinks? I don’t think so,” I sigh, remembering the last time we went out was the weekend Andrew came back. “No worries. Maybe I’ll just get up early to head out for a visit with my parents. I haven’t seen them since the memorial service and before that...” I scratch the back of my head. “I can’t really remember. And Cooper’s off this weekend and I haven’t seen him in forever.”

“Well, if you don’t go to see them, we’re going out!”

Just before Toni rounds the corner, I ask about Romeo and Juliet.

“They’re great! They’ve adjusted nicely to their new home. You should come for a visit.” She smiles knowing how allergic I am.

“Yeah, Benadryl and I will be over real soon,” I laugh just before I lower myself into my Acura and drive over to A-1 pizza to grab my dinner.

Carrying the box and two cupcakes from the Sweet Shoppe, I struggle to open the front door while managing dinner in one hand and the mail in the other. Kicking off my shoes, I step into my house and shriek when I find Andrew sitting on the chair adjacent to the couch with his elbows resting on his thighs. My eyes swing to his fingers laced together, a tight ball of nerves and tendons. His head snaps up and his angry eyes bore into mine. He’s dressed casually; a marked difference from the three-piece suits he’s worn to the office.

“What in the hell are you doing?” I bellow, demanding an answer. My frustration is displayed by the snarl on my face. “Why the hell are you in my house? You’ve got some nerve showing up here like you haven’t been the biggest dick to ever walk the face of this planet!” My anger grows exponentially. “And...who fucking goes in someone else’s house without permission?”

Wearing a gray Henley and jeans, Andrew’s body stiffens and his face hardens, evidenced by the clenching of his strong jaw and the reproachful glare from his serious blue eyes.

I swallow nervously and wait for him to respond.

Seconds tick by until he directs his attention and his articulated words at me. “I could ask the same of you.”

Andrew reaches down to the space between his leg and the material covering the chair. Assuming he’s reaching for his phone, I continue to wait. But when he places an object in the center of the coffee table, a gasp emerges from my mouth and my eyes widen. Sitting prominently on full display as if it were Exhibit A is my yellow flashlight with the name Montgomery scribbled in big, bold black Sharpie marker.

My lips part to justify a response, but I have none. I’ve been caught and now it is time to face the music. My body sags in defeat. I toss the flashlight aside and set the pizza down on the coffee table. Silently, I walk to the couch and fold my legs beneath my body. After a momentarily battle of whether I should lie or tell the truth, my father’s voice of reason rings in my ear.

“Shit,” I breathe, expelling air from my lungs. I meet his eyes as my heart beats frantically. “Andrew,” I sigh, my voice a fraction of a whisper. “I’m so sorry. Honestly.” I shake my head and run my fingers through my hair. “I’m just...” I stammer.

Swallowing thickly, Andrew remains silent as he waits for me to continue.

I spread my hand over my eyes and rub my temples with my thumb and index fingers, partly to shield my guilt, but mainly to wipe away the moisture forming in the corner of my eyes. When my eyes close for just a moment, my mind wanders, conjuring up the image of his strong body trembling with sorrow as his voice cried out for answers, second chances and forgiveness, allowing his brokenness to reveal itself.

“You’re just what?” he asks sharply, his patience exhausted.

Inhaling deeply, I confess. “I’m worried. I didn’t mean to intrude. I never would’ve gone in if I knew...” The words lodge in my throat. I shrug my shoulders and explain why I went there in the first place. “You kept me awake night after night with the noise and I just wanted to sleep.”

“Ever hear of a phone?” he asks harshly.

My lips twist at his tone. “I tried calling you a few times, but you never answered. I even banged on the door. I figured you didn’t want to talk to me.” My head tilts subtly and I offer a look of apology.

“You had no right to come into that house,” he hisses angrily.

“I know,” I agree adamantly, nodding my head vigorously.

“You need to mind your business. Who trespasses on someone else’s property? Into someone’s house? Do you know that I could’ve had you arrested?” he spits condescendingly with a strained voice.

I crack a slight smile and tip my head downward, suppressing an inappropriate chuckle from rising.

“What the fuck is so funny?” Gritted words escape through his lips. “You think invading my privacy, spying on me and seeing me like that is a goddamn joke?” His jaw ticks and the veins in his neck bulge.

Sucking my lips together inwardly, I contain the smile from fully emerging and shake my head. I meet his eyes and soften my expression as well as my voice. “No, of course not. Andrew, everybody mourns.”

The clenching of his jaw reveals otherwise. “I don’t.”

Time slips by quietly.

“I don’t think this is funny. That’s not why I laughed. You said something that reminded me of a funny time.”

“Really?” he asks warily. “Tell me what the hell you consider so funny!”

“It’s nothing, I’m sorry.” My nerves get the best of me, and I chuckle again.

“No, now I want to know,” he argues.

“It’s just...” I sigh, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear, “when I was little and my entire family would go to church on Sunday, to be funny, my eldest brother used to say ‘trespissed’ against me when saying the Lord’s Prayer. Of course, my two other brothers and I would laugh like a pack of snickering hyenas.”

I rub my face and shake my head. “Now that I think about it, I didn’t even know what was so funny. I really just laughed along because my brothers did.”

Leaning onto the armrest, I ramble on nervously. “And because my dad always sat at the end of the pew so he could help collect the weekly tithes and offerings, he never heard it, but my mom did.” My eyes widen and I shake my head, remembering the look on her face. “She would get so mad and give him a mean side-eye which meant he was going to be in big trouble when we got home.”

Judging by the blank expression on his face, Andrew clearly doesn’t find the situation as humorous as I do.

“What happened to your brother when you all got home? What was his consequence? Did he get hit? Sent to his room?” Andrew asks quietly as sadness washes over his face.

I flinch then scoff. “Hit? No, my mom wasn’t like that. She grounded him or took something away like she always did, but then he would sweet talk her and she’d let him off punishment early. He was her first-born so I think she had a soft spot for him.”

“Figures,” he mumbles before allowing his cheek to pull back into a small grin. “What do you mean he ‘sweet talked’ her?”

I nod and grin crookedly, regaling him with the story of how my brother would rave about Sunday dinner and help with the dishes so she could rest. Memories of my brother’s bright smile and fun-loving nature along with his love for his baby sister crash over me, sending warmth to envelope me in a sweet embrace.

“What does he do now?”

Andrew’s voice pulls me from my reverie and I blink, bringing myself back to the here and now. “Who?”

“Your brother. What does he do for a living?”

My jovial spirit takes a nosedive and I look down. “He doesn’t.” Taking a deep breath, I quietly recount the details of the event which occurred a few weeks later on what should have been the happiest day of the year for me. “He was killed by a drunk driver when he was sixteen.” I gasp because it’s taken me years to be able to say those words without breaking down in tears. “He’s the one who died on my birthday.”

Andrew rises and sits beside me on the couch.

“Fuck, that sucks. I’m sorry—” He reaches out for my hand but then pauses, letting it drop gently to his leg.

I nod in agreement. “He had just gotten his license a week earlier and the town drunk blew through a stop sign. My brother never saw it coming.”

“Sixteen,” Andrew considers quietly.

“My parents were devastated as you can imagine. Losing a child is something no parent ever wants to face.”

“I know.” He nods.

“I think I was too young to truly understand what happened, but my brothers, they knew.”

Lost in our own thoughts, Andrew and I sit next to each other yet are separated by millions of miles.

“I...I don’t think I’ve been to church since I was baptized as an infant.” Mumbling he adds, “I’m probably going to hell anyway.”

My face scrunches in wonder at his comment, but I ignore it. “You’ve really never been to church?” I yelp as I turn my head to look at him, expecting to see a hint of witticism.

“Nope.” He chuckles dryly then corrects himself. “That’s not true. I went when Rob and Emma got married and then one other time.”

“Wow. Not even on Easter or Christmas?” I quip, ignoring the Catholic guilt settling in for my poor attendance in the House of God even though there’s a parish on almost every few blocks.

“God and I don’t like each other very much,” he whispers.

Silence befalls us.

“For what it’s worth, Andrew, I am really sorry. I just wanted to help. Be a friend.”

“Your friendship isn’t what I need.”

I sigh sadly at his comment. “Well, like I said, I am sorry.”

After several beats, Andrew glances away from me, nodding in quasi acceptance of my apology then stands to leave.

From his back pocket, he pulls out several folded sheets of white paper and holds them in the air. “Did you write these?” I notice the expression on his face changes subtly.

I look away briefly before returning my gaze to his face. “Yes and no.”

His eyes dart to my midsection when my stomach growls. The faintest hint of a smile appears. “I’m a little hungry.” Inhaling quietly, I tell him about the notes. “I found the poems online, but I added the sketches.”

“Why? Why’d you leave these for me?” he asks with a softer tone.

I shrug in embarrassment. “I guess I wanted you to know you weren’t alone. I know death is a lonely and dark place. I wanted to give you a little hope and some light to help guide you.”

Because the lunch I’d eaten earlier is gone, my belly groans, demanding to be fed. Inhaling, I fill my lungs with the aroma of pepperoni pizza and glance at the man sitting across from me. “Are you hungry?” I ask quietly, with hesitation before adding, “because I’m starving.”

Without waiting for his reply, I stride into the kitchen, grab two dishes and a bottle of water and a can of Coke.

“Since you’re already here, you might as well eat.” I lift the top of the box, separate the triangles then hand him a dish with two slices of pizza on it. “I mean...only if you want to.”

He accepts my peace offering as I settle in across from him and enjoy my dinner. We eat in awkward silence as I debate my next move.

Inhaling quietly, I decide to take the plunge.

“So...do you,” I commence, asking carefully, “want to talk about your parents?”

Andrew’s eyes flash to mine and he frowns, forcing a deep breath. “Not really.”

I commend myself for trying, but I won’t push him so I opt to change the subject...sort of.

“I forgot how well you played the drums. You’re really good.”

Andrew sits forward, sets the dish on the coffee table and rests his elbows on his knees, running both hands through his hair. “My parents wanted me to play the piano.”

“And you were quite the baseball player, huh?”

He shakes his head and furrows his eyebrows, a sense of confusion on his face. “Actually, I wasn’t. I played hockey.”

“Really? But I saw a picture of you in their office. You were standing in between your parents, holding a trophy.” I glance at his dark waves covering his head. “Your hair has gotten so much darker over the years. My nephew has hair like that. Every time I see him, he’s becoming a full-fledged ginger.”

Andrew angles his neck and scratches his jaw roughly before reiterating tersely, “I didn’t play ball.”

It seems as though I keep saying the wrong things.

“Can I ask you a question?” I ask cautiously as the tip of my index finger reaches for my bottom lip, gliding back and forth, refreshing my memory of an intimate touch.

His eyes snap up to mine expectantly.

Nice Andrew sits before me so I ask the question that’s been plaguing me for days especially when Ogre Andrew appeared at work.

I drop my hand from my lip and turn to face him straight on. His beautiful blues wait expectantly for my inquiry. “Why’d you kiss me by the pool?”

The slightest lift of his cheek suggests he’s restraining a smile, but his reply is contradictory. With a quick clearing of his throat, Andrew replies wryly while shrugging casually, “I wanted to...” then immediately adding, “But don’t worry. It won’t happen again.”

He holds my eyes captive and I search desperately for any sign that his words are in vain. When I find none, panic rises in my heart at the thought of never tasting his lips again, of never having his tongue dance with mine, of never feeling his soft whisper on my skin. Eventually I look away, trying to mask the hurt and disappointment with a muffled chuckle that slips from my mouth.

“I wasn’t complaining,” I grin slyly. “You’re just hot one day and cold the next.”

His hand reaches back to massage the nape of his neck. Rolling his neck in a small circle before tilting it to the left and right, several dull cracks are heard. Andrew peeks over at me and grins. “So you think I’m hot?” he teases.

I roll my eyes and purse my lips dramatically. “Eh.” I shrug. “You’re okay.”

He laughs lightly and my core tightens at the sound. It’s a sound I don’t hear often enough.

“You’re...” he wrinkles his nose, “you’re okay, too. Even if you are a tomboy.”

His cell phone chirps and he glances at it quickly, but he doesn’t reply to the text message.

“Wow! Look at you, Andrew Darling.” Sarcasm drips from my words. “You sure know how to make a girl feel good! Your mom would be so prou—” Fuck! “There I go again...” I sigh sadly. “I think I should just stop talking.”

As if ignoring my last comment and the awkwardness floating in the air, Andrew simply states confidently, “I’ve never had a single complaint from any woman I’ve fucked.”

I narrow my eyes and cross my arms over my chest. “Eww! And just when I thought you were a decent guy, you go and prove me wrong.”

“I’m just saying...” he boasts as two hands fly up in the air defensively.

Grinning, I open then close my mouth. I wish there were words to counter his claim, but he’s right. Andrew is an expert at the art of seduction; his words alone brought that woman at the restaurant to the point of orgasm and again with me in the car. I know first-hand how masterful he is in the bedroom with that considerable dick. Never in my life have I experienced what I did in the few hours we joined our bodies. I remember the rhythmic pounding he’d given as if he were still playing the drums. Our drinking game had been interrupted when someone handed him a pair of drumsticks.

I smile at the memory of watching him rip off his T-shirt and tap a drum set with precision. Determination displayed on his face as he lost himself in the beat, the sticks an extension of his hands. Those same hands that later undressed and spread me for his pleasure.

Feeling goose bumps line my skin, I rub my arms gently, remembering how my body felt beneath his. Euphoric. Sated. Exhausted.

Thinking back now, the party Andrew threw was reckless and careless with cars parked all over the lawn, beer bottles tossed everywhere and a band playing into the early morning hours until the police showed up and shut the party down. It seemed like it was a “Fuck you” party to his parents.

I exhale quietly and peer at him with an amused expression on my face. “I have to tell you...I like this Andrew much better than the other one. He’s not very nice.”

“He’s—” Andrew murmurs, “kind of pissed at the world right now. Cut him a little slack.”

I nod and smile before taking a bite of pizza.

“Can I ask you a question?” Andrew’s voice pulls me away from my private thoughts and transports me back to the here and now.

A bundle of nerves forms and settles in the pit of my belly. I have no idea what he might ask, but I respond in the affirmation with a simple tip of my head. I take a final sip of my soda and wait.

“Why didn’t you let me fuck you in Vegas?”

A spray of dark liquid shoots from my mouth onto the hardwood floor. “What?”

“In Vegas, why didn’t you let m—”

“I heard you the first time!” I wipe my chin with the back of my hand. “Sheesh! No beating around the bush with you, huh?”

“I can beat the bush if you’d like.” His eyes shine with humor as he lifts the clear plastic bottle to his lips then tips it, filling his mouth with water. My eyes drop to his Adam’s apple when he swallows the huge gulp.

Maintaining eye contact, I chuckle at his words. “You are something else, Andrew Darling. Do you remember Crystal?”

His eyebrows furrow as he swipes his tongue across his bottom lip and castigates me. “No and you didn’t answer my question.”

“Of course you don’t. She’s part of the reason, but besides that you already know why,” I retort with frustration in my voice and pity in my eyes.

Heckling with admonition, he shakes his head. “They would’ve still been dead whether we fucked or not. It wouldn’t have changed anything,” he counters harshly.

“It would’ve changed everything!”

“But I fucked you before and nothing changed. You went your way and I went mine.”

I remember all too well I think to myself. “Could you please stop saying that? You make it sound so cheap and dirty. Like I was some hooker you paid to have sex with you.”

“I don’t pay for sex,” he counters harshly.

“Really?” I tilt my head and glare at him.

His lips remain perfectly still until he drags his hand across his face. “I remember now.”

“And for the record, the first time I slept with you, I was in a weird place. I don’t go around sleeping with random guys! I’d never had a one-night stand before...or after,” I confess quietly.

“That was quite a night,” he says quietly.

I stand, stomp my way into the bathroom and slam the door shut. Looking at myself in the mirror, I notice my cheeks are flushed and my eyes anxious. I hate that I’m letting him affect me this way. He’s nothing to me. We’re nothing to each other. When I return to the living room, I lean against the door frame and watch quietly as Andrew scrolls through his phone.

“I don’t get you,” I say, grabbing his attention away from the device. “When I said earlier that you’re hot then cold, I wasn’t referring to your...” I drag my eyes over his body. “We were having a nice normal conversation and you had to make it awkward by bringing up a situation that we shouldn’t have put ourselves in.”

Walking into the living room, I deliberately choose to sit on the adjacent chair so I can concentrate. Lines have to be drawn and serious conversations have to be had, but the proximity between us clouds my brain and clearly my judgment. I need to find a way to rein in my attraction to him if we’re going to work together on a daily basis.

Andrew’s eyebrows furrow when he notices the distance between us. “Why’d you sit over there?”

I look at him pointedly.

A deep sigh expels from his chest. “I thought you wanted us to be friends. Or are we strictly business partners?”

“I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?” My voice sounds strong and confident while my heart beats frantically in my chest.

“I think,” he says with some trepidation, “I think I’d like to be both if that’s okay.” A genuine smile spreads across his handsome face. “I actually like hanging out with you and I kind of need to learn a few things about advertising, so...”

“Friends. Partners. I can do that,” I agree, letting the words of affirmation linger in the air. “Friends look out for each other. You know that, right?”

Andrew confirms with a nod.

“I was worried about you the other day. Why didn’t you answer any of my calls?”

His honesty floors me. “I was pissed off and I didn’t want to talk to you.”

“You realize I’m not your enemy, right? I didn’t ask to be named in their will,” I say as I sit on the couch beside him.

“It’s not about the will.”

His comment surprises me. I can’t think of another reason to be upset with me.

“We have a company to run and we may not always agree, but I think we’ll need to talk things through and sometimes even compromise.” I purse my lips, cock an eyebrow and whisper one word, “Keurig.”

After responding to a text message, Andrew sets his phone down and glances over at me.

“Could you try to not be such an ogre at work? These are good people. Your parents really cared about each and every one of them. You want to be involved in the day to day routine of the company? Great. Start by getting to know your employees and showing them a little kindness.”

“I’ve never really run a business before.”

“Didn’t you go to work with your dad when you were a kid?”

Andrew cringes. “No.”

“Your parents ran their company like a family.”

“God, I hope that’s not true,” he retorts, shaking his head.

“I’m not sure why you’d say that. Your mom and dad were wonderful, loving and generous people.”

Looking at me somberly, he replies, “You weren’t their son.”

I’m left scratching my head at his comment and a million scenarios swirl around my brain while I try desperately to decipher exactly what he meant.

♦♦♦

Every day at work, Andrew wheels his leather chair into my office and sits beside me so I can teach him some of the basics about the program I use for designing. His hand grazes against mine when we both point to a line on the logo. He makes suggestions, and I smile. Working so closely to him, his scent, his skin, his eyes, messes with my head.

“Seems easy enough,” he says on Friday afternoon, lifting a shoulder to display his confident thoughts.

“You may be smart and all, but you’re no computer whiz,” I shoot back with a smile.

I grab a folder and open it.

“Wanna try this one?”

Andrew opens the folder, his eyes perusing over the design I’d sketched last week.

“It’s an easy one, pretty straight forward. They just want something clean and bold.”

He studies it.

“See how these two lines run parallel, traveling side by side?” I glide my finger along the page. “You think their paths are never going to cross until right here.” I point to the sheet then look at him. I swallow thickly at the intensity in his gaze. “Finally they meet.”

Drawn in by his searing look, I find my eyes are locked on his mouth before dragging them upward once again. Involuntarily, my head tips and my tongue glides out to moisten my lips, ghosting them mere millimeters away from his.

Placing his hands on my thighs, Andrew wheels my leather chair closer to his. His knees part my legs. My heart thunders in my ears. Time ticks by as we stare at one another until his hand rises and cups the nape of my neck, bringing me closer. Andrew touches my lips with his then pulls back slightly. The kiss is gentle and hesitant as if he’s having a sample before taking more.

When my body responds with hardened nipples and a pulsating core, my hands mirror his, pulling his face back to mine. Given permission to continue, Andrew takes more.

Mouths open, tongues merge into a sensual dance for two. His large hands move from my neck to the front of my shirt and gently massage my breast, rolling my nipple between his fingers. Each squeeze sends a direct signal to my clit and I scramble out of my chair to sit on my desk.

Wedged between my open thighs, Andrew presses his length into me while devouring my mouth.

“I want you,” he murmurs against my neck where his kisses blaze a hot trail. “Do you hear me? I want you.”

“Knock, knock,” Cara interrupts the heated moment. “Oh gosh, I’m sorry,” she stammers. “I’ll just come back later.” She giggles nervously. “You two can finish up.”

Reality slaps me in the face and I push Andrew away, leaving him breathless with desire seeping from his pores as I stand.

“Doesn’t she know how to fucking knock?” Andrew barks.

“Cara,” I call after her, but halt my steps when I realize my shirt is unbuttoned.

I step back into my office and close the door, pressing my back into the barrier.

“Andrew...that cannot happen again.” I pin him with stern eyes. “This is a place of business.”

With a forceful step, Andrew strides over to me. “We can mix business and pleasure, don’t you think?” he asks, sliding his hands around my waist and burying his nose in my neck yet again.

I grab the tufts at the back of his head and yank back as a smile spreads across my face.

“We need to be professional around here.”

“Friends and partners.”

“I’m serious!”

With twisted lips displaying his disappointment, Andrew nods and pushes away before exiting my office.

♦♦♦

A knock on my door reveals Andrew standing there with Chinese takeout.

“What are you doing tonight?”

“Not having sex with you!” I laugh.

“Damn,” he laughs, “I was hoping to finish what we started.”

My lips form a tight line and I shake my head. “Yeah, sorry buddy, not happening. I’m chalking that one up to a momentary lapse in judgment.”

Andrew clutches his chest as if my words have wounded him. “Ouch, but it was worth a shot.”

I realize I’m smiling as Playful Andrew materializes.

“Well, since you won’t have sex with me, how about we go to a movie or catch a band somewhere? I could really use a diversion and get away from this place for a little while.”

“Together?” I shriek. “Why would we do that?”

“Because you’re living in my pool house, we have a business to run together...and we’re friends. Isn’t that something friends would do?”

I offer a hard side-eye, wondering what his real motive is.

“Can I be honest with you?” I implore, rubbing my hands over my face before smoothing my hair back. “I’m really tired. It’s been a few long and emotionally draining weeks. This new guy started working at the company recently and he’s a real pain in the ass. So demanding.” I crack a smile.

Andrew stands quickly and picks up his cell phone from the couch cushion. “No problem,” he scoffs, “I’ll let you get some rest then.”

Feeling as though I’ve offended him, I jump to my feet and block his path, my hand rising involuntarily to his chest. I look up with eager but hesitant eyes. “Don’t leave. I was going to suggest watching a movie here.” A weak smile tips my lips into a smirk. “And I doubt there are any good bands playing tonight. This isn’t Denver, you know.”

Several moments tick by while his eyes search my face then drop to my hand still on his chest. After looking around, he draws his attention back to me.

“What?” I ask, slowly removing my hand as embarrassment flushes my cheeks pink.

Motioning with his chin, Andrew points to the vacant spot above the fireplace where a television should be. Realization dawns on me at the same moment, and I force a whispered confession through my lips. “The T.V. is in my bedroom.”

Waggling his eyebrows playfully with a wide grin on his face, Andrew suggests I lead the way.

“This isn’t an invitation for anything else, mister!” I point upward at his roguish smile.

“I will be a perfect gentleman,” he utters darkly.

“Somehow I don’t believe you,” I laugh. “I’m going to change into something more comfortable,” I say as I begin to unbutton my shirt.

Andrew follows me into my bedroom and kicks off his worn leather flip flops. I, however, make a beeline for the bathroom so I can change into a pair of yoga pants and an oversized Lake George sweatshirt. What I really want to do, aside from straddling his lap and riding him off into the sunset, is to unclasp my bra and let my girls hang free, but knowing Andrew will be feet away, that isn’t an option.

My hair is piled high on top of my head and my glasses are on my face when I emerge from the bathroom.

“You look very...comfortable,” he comments, sizing up my appearance.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I narrow my eyes and place my hands on my hips.

“Usually when a woman tells me she’s slipping into something more comfortable, it usually means less clothing—not more.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not—”

A crackle of laughter interrupts my angry rant.

“Morgan, I’m just messing with you. You look cute...in a nerdy kinda way.”

“Top 2% in my class! Thank you very much!” I boast, plopping myself onto the bed beside him which causes his manly scent to infiltrate my nose. I inhale, savoring the hint of cologne.

Noticing how relaxed Andrew looks on my bed, I turn away, smiling inwardly as I reach over to the night stand and grab the remote.

“What do you want to watch?”

Andrew glances at me and allows his eyes to linger on my face. “You beneath me.”

My nipples pebble and my sex clenches at the intensity of his searing look.

Oh God. I’m in trouble!

Needing a reprieve, a moment to think rationally, I jump up and dash to the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with a bowl of buttery popcorn and a yellow, one pound bag of candy.

Andrew’s long legs are stretched out, crossed at the ankles, revealing his bare feet. Clicking the button on the remote control in his hand, Andrew surfs through the cable channels before finally switching over to Netflix.

“That’s a big bag,” he jokes, reaching for a handful of peanut M&Ms.

“I like big things.” I smirk and pop a few oval pieces into my mouth. “And I love anything with nuts.”

“I bet you do,” he whispers so slightly that I mentally question if I heard him correctly. Ignoring his wide-eyed stare and slight grin, I keep my eyes focused on the flat screen mounted on the wall.

“There’s a Star Wars marathon on FX.”

I wrinkle my nose and scrunch my lips together. “Not really a fan.”

“How could you not like Star Wars? It’s epic!”

Looking up, I tap my chin, feigning serious pondering. “Nope. Still not a fan.”

We ping pong suggestions about what kind of movie to watch until we settle on The Ritual.

“You really like scary movies?”

I nod enthusiastically. “But not demonic things. I like suspense. You never know what’s going to happen next.”

Again, Andrew grins.

After having lost track of how many times I screamed and clutched onto his arm, I sigh in relief when the movie ends. I look at the clock and note the late hour as a yawn escapes.

“I’ve got to get up early tomorrow,” I say but quickly amend my statement. “Or rather in a few hours.”

“Where’re you going so early? It’s Saturday.”

I rise and head into the bathroom to floss and brush my teeth. “Heading up to visit my parents. I haven’t seen them since the memorial service.” I freeze instantly and my eyes close.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring that up.” I say, peeking outside of the door frame to find Andrew sitting straight up on my bed, staring at the ceiling. “Everything okay?”

Sitting cross-legged in front of him, something visceral compels me to reach for his hand and take it into mine. I flip it over slowly to look at his life line. I can feel the weight of his stare as my fingertip traces the long, deep crease carved in his large palm. Slowly, my eyes drag upward to meet his.

“Why don’t you—”

“Can I stay here ton—”

With simultaneous parting of our lips, Andrew and I speak at the same time then quickly insist the other continues.

“Please,” he encourages me to finish my sentence.

“I was going to ask if you wanted to come up to my parents with me. They live in Lake George. We’d be back by Sunday afternoon. If you don’t want to, it’s okay. But let me tell you about this amazing French Toast casserole that my mom makes every Sunday for brunch.”

I realize I’m rambling and immediately shut my mouth, eyeing him carefully when I see the confused look on his face. “Sorry! I just don’t—”

“I’d like that,” he interjects, causing me to stammer when comprehension sets in.

“You...you wanna come with me?”

Those gorgeous blues sparkle when he hums then says, “I’d love to come with you.” Smiling devilishly, he adds, “And I’ll go with you tomorrow.”

Grabbing a decorative throw pillow, I laugh and chuck it at his head. “Is that all you ever think about?”

He shrugs. “These days...pretty much.”

“What were you going to ask me?”

Andrew’s chest rises and falls as he prepares to speak.

“Would you mind if I slept on your couch?” he asks as his head drops, possibly in shame or uncertainty.

Stammering through disbelief, I ask why.

“It gets harder every day to be there alone, knowing the house will forever be empty. I have way too many memo—”

I hold my hand up to stop him and simply nod.

Aside from the agonizing sobs I inadvertently witnessed, this is the first time Andrew has shown any sign of grief over the loss of his parents. I blink away the tears forming in the corner of my eyes and swallow the boulder-sized lump in my throat. Recognizing the anguish in his voice, realizing how much it must have taken for him to admit that to me, a virtual stranger, my eyes close briefly.

When they reopen, Andrew’s face is close and his luscious lips are a fraction of space away.

“Embrasse moi,” he whispers the quiet supplication as his hands cup my jaw, and he presses his lips against mine.

My hands rise and my fingers curl around his thick wrists while my thumb glides back and forth along his skin. Angling my head, he deepens the moment of intimacy. Butterflies dance in my belly as desire rushes to the apex between my legs in the form of uncontrollable lust.

“Andrew,” his name falls from my lips. “What are—” I cry against the rhythm of his mouth on mine.

I sigh when I feel his tongue slip in between my lips, tempting me with warm, gentle swirls. My body is a raging wildfire and I have no wish to extinguish it. Andrew swallows my breathy moans as we both rise to our knees and he yanks off his T-shirt.

With a purr of appreciation, I admire him while my heart pounds like a thousand wild stallions galloping over and through the mid-western plains.

Blessed with a beautiful, sculpted chest which leads down to peaks and valleys of hard abs beneath tanned skin, Andrew’s erratic breathing displays his frenzied need to take us to the next level so we can finish what we started in Vegas and again today.

Where’s Logic when I need her?

My fingers graze his skin and skate over the sprinkling of dark brown hair in the center of his chest. When I feel the abandonment of one of his hands, my heart plummets but quickly soars again when he pulls me flush against his body, crushing my breasts against his chest and aligning his erection, strong and firm, against my abdomen.

I look up into his eyes as he gazes down at me. I suppress any doubt when the only thing I see reflected at me is unadulterated, carnal desire combined with lustful promises.

Returning his kiss, my eyes close.

“Oh baby, I want you so bad. All these weeks watching you come and go around here. I am desperate to fuck you.”

“Baby. C’mon, baby. I didn’t mean it. She means nothing to me. Please forgive me, baby.” A million memories of Sean’s lies and apologies crash over me like a deadly tsunami.

My eyes spring open as if I’ve been doused with freezing cold lake water in the dead of winter. “Don’t call me that,” I hiss through gritted teeth, slamming my eyes shut and covering my face to block out the images.

“What?” he mumbles against my lips, trying desperately to return us to the volcanic heat we experienced only seconds before. “What’s wrong?”

I pull away, widening the space between our bodies and look down. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

A raspy voice returns to my neck and murmurs in my ear, “Yes, we should. We both want this, baby.”

“Don’t fucking call me that!”

“Call you what?” he asks.

“Baby! Don’t call me that.”

Big blue eyes widen. “Okay,” he says, attempting to kiss me again.

“Andrew, please!” I shove him back. “I can’t do this!” I crawl to the other side of the bed and run into the bathroom.

“Morgan!” I hear Andrew call my name as he knocks on the locked door. “What’s wrong?”

Cold water splashes against my hot skin and washes away the tears that stream down my cheeks. I clear my throat, hoping my voice emerges as normally as possible. “Please just go. I’m fine.”

“Open the door,” he demands.

I shake my head and ask him to leave once again.

“Not until you tell me what the hell just happened.” He turns the knob forcefully but has no luck getting past the door.

After several minutes, I finally exit the sanctuary of my bathroom when I hear the front door open and shut.

Gripping the hair on the top of my head, I yank hard, leaving the roots sore as I punish myself for allowing him to have control over me.

Fuck you, Sean. My ex-husband has no power over me. None I remind myself relentlessly. I’d given him enough years of my life; I won’t give him a second more.

My legs carry me as I pace the place I now call home while I proceed to have a conversation with myself. Andrew is going to think I’m some nut job. I open and close the refrigerator. But he shouldn’t have kissed me. I search around for my cell phone, debating whether or not to call him. Maybe I led him on by suggesting we watch a movie in my bedroom.

A black screen greets me when I swipe my finger across the glass. I rush to the front window when I hear the sound of a car’s engine. I make it there just in time to see the red taillights turn out of the driveway.

I stand there, wondering where in the world Andrew could’ve gone at one o’clock in the morning. Sitting in the lone chair across from the couch while waiting for Andrew’s return, I fall asleep with moisture in my eyes, swollen lips and an unsettled heart.

The hard and heavy slamming sound of a car door jolts me wide awake and I jump to my feet. My eyes are laser focused on Andrew as he walks slowly from the Hummer to the main house in the rain. With rapt attention, I hold my breath when he stops suddenly and turns in the direction of the pool house.

What am I going to say? How will I explain the meltdown he witnessed? I ask myself. Thankfully, the opportunity never presents itself because he turns back and enters his parents’ home through the back door which leads to the kitchen.

Continuing my observation with a curious eye, I watch the light in one room illuminate then darken about fifteen minutes later. Scanning the back of the house, I look for any sign of Andrew on the second story but find none. Then for a fleeting moment, I see a fragment of his cell phone’s blue glow in the darkness.

Guilt consumes me that I allowed Sean to penetrate my mind and push Andrew away, driving him back to the lonely and barren house. The fact that Andrew voiced his wariness about being in his parents’ home pinches my heart as empathy sets in.

Even as a child, I recollect that for almost a year, no one was allowed to go into my brother’s room. My mother didn’t make his bed. She set a dish for him at every meal until my father nearly lost his mind and confronted her, demanding that she come to terms with the fact that their beloved son was gone, never to return.

While part of my body still fizzes with desire, another part of me settles with relief. In a way, I’m grateful for the interruption. God only knows what would’ve happened between us. Had it really only been a few days before that we agreed to be friends and business partners? How did we allow our undeniable attraction to trump our agreement?

I don’t need to be Andrew Darling’s lover; I need to be his friend.

Grabbing my umbrella, I trek across the lawn as my flip flops squish against the wet grass.

Be his friend. Be his friend. This silent pep talk provides the courage I need to turn the knob and push the door open. Covering my nose with the hem of my sleeve, I navigate through the kitchen and up the stairs, following the mental map of where I saw the light. My steps freeze when I reach a door which is slightly ajar, allowing the glow to filter into the hallway.

God, please let me be doing the right thing.

“Andrew,” I whisper his name.

“What?” he hisses, setting his phone face down on the bed, extinguishing the faint light.

Suddenly shrouded in darkness, I ask permission to proceed then offer soft words in an attempt to explain what transpired earlier.

Andrew sits up in the king-sized bed but says nothing. The slight silhouette of his body reveals the lack of a T-shirt and my mind immediately wonders if any material covers the rest of his body. The scent of fresh soap wafts in the air as he runs his hands through his hair.

Detecting hesitancy on his part, I sigh. “If you want, we can talk when I get back from Lake George on Sunday.”

“But you asked me to go with you,” he retorts sharply.

“I did,” I stammer, feeling unease settle in my throat. “I didn’t know if you still wanted to come along.”

“I could use a little time away...from here.”

The strain in his voice forces my legs to move, bringing me closer to his bed. “May I sit down?”

A deep breath is pushed from his lungs. “Morgan, it’s late and if we want to make it to upstate New York—”

I stiffen. “Oh, sorry! You’re right.” I take a small step backward as my mood plunges into the dark abyss of rejection.

The comforter is pulled back, exposing the vacancy in his bed. I hear Andrew release a heavy sigh as he pats the sheet twice, beckoning me to join him. Two little words are added.

“Come here."

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure...as long as you don’t try to seduce me again.” I hear the hint of humor in his voice as I climb onto the plush bed and settle down beside him.

The sheer joy of lying in his bed is short lived.

“Turn on your side,” he directs brusquely.

I do as he instructs and then adjust the goose down pillow, grateful for the darkness to shield the sadness creeping up on my face because it's obvious he can’t even face me. As if we are two islands disconnected from one another, surrounded by a sea of water, Andrew and I lie together but separately.

My breathing regulates and deepens as I slowly drift to sleep.

“I’m sorry if I said the wrong thing to you earlier,” Andrew whispers into my hair as he lays his hand on my hip, molding his body against mine. “Just stay with me.”

My eyelids droop and I mumble a quiet, groggy reply. “I won’t leave you.” Sighing contently as sleep finally takes my hand and leads me away to a place of pleasure where this intimacy, shared in the dark between the beautiful, broken man and me, is allowed, where it’s welcomed, where it’s cherished.