I sat cross-legged on the bed, typing yet another email to yet another contact in hopes that somebody, anybody, would be able to help us. I couldn’t pretend I didn’t love the feeling of having something to work toward, something good and real. Helping the little guy. Just what had been missing from my life.

The bedroom door was open, and I couldn’t help but notice Dawson as he walked back and forth. He was emptying out the junk room; the only room still left to be cleared out and one which Craig and his parents had filled with enough random junk to classify as a disaster area. He had just as much nervous energy as I did, I guessed. He needed to do something, or he would explode.

I noticed at one point, after he came back upstairs, that his shirt was off. “Oh, are we getting that casual now?” I called out.

“Yeah. You should take off your shirt, too.” He winked before going back in for more.

“Maybe later,” I promised. “Work calls.”

“That’s why we should do it now and get it over with, so we can concentrate better after.” The next thing I knew, he came in and sat behind me on the bed before pulling me into his lap. As busy as I was, the feel of his body was like magic. His hands were on my waist and his chest pressed against my back. His breath was hot on my neck. I sighed and let myself melt against him. My butt pushed up against his crotch, where something was clearly growing.

I giggled, laptop forgotten for the time being. “I’m trying to save our skins, you know,” I managed to sputter between kisses.

“And you deserve a reward for that.” His hands slid up my sides, then around to cup my breasts. He found my nipples and stroked them into tight peaks.

“No fair,” I groaned. I closed my eyes and focused on what he was doing to me even though I knew it wasn’t the time.

“Just a shower, then,” he whispered as his hands roamed all over me.

“We should take a shower together right now.” He looked around the room. “There’s not much left there that I can’t run downstairs. I cleaned out almost all of it.” He slid his hand down from my chin to my throat, where my breath caught. My resolve dissolved when he touched me the way he was doing just then—slowly, teasingly soft. Enough to make my nerve endings sing and my pulse race. “And you can finish sending your emails in a little while, right? Nobody knows how important they are better than I do, but trust me…” he took my hand and placed it over the obvious bulge at his crotch, “…this won’t take long.”

I couldn’t help but giggle. He stroked my throat, then drew a line from there to the neckline of my t-shirt until his finger sat between my breasts. I couldn’t breathe and didn’t dare move. He froze me in place.

A smile played over his lips. He loved knowing he had me on the hook, waiting with bated breath to see what he would do next. It was maddening. I wouldn’t have changed it for anything, either. My entire existence depended on what he did next.

He leaned in slowly, so slowly. I waited for the taste of his lips on mine, and when they finally touched I was sure I saw fireworks go off in my head. Tight, pulsing heat started building in my core as the kiss deepened and Dawson’s hands made their slow, sensual journey over my body. I wrapped my arms around his neck and held on as he fondled me through my jeans, then slid up under my shirt and bra to massage my breasts in his big, rough hands. But his touch wasn’t rough. It was teasing and knowing and full of want. He wanted me. I groaned when his mouth broke free of mine and worked its way down my throat.

“Bathroom,” I gasped. If he wanted to take a shower, I wanted to take a shower. And once we were clean, we could get dirty again.

He led me down the hall and started stripping down as I turned on the water in the old-fashioned tub. It was more than big enough for the two of us to take a bath if we’d wanted to, and I made a mental note to suggest we do just that before I left. Then I stood up and began shucking my clothes. He helped once he was finished, getting down on one knee to peel off my panties. He kissed my stomach, my hips, swirling his tongue around the inside of my navel. I groaned in approval, and he did it again.

“You’re already so wet,” he observed in a voice thick with desire.

“Let’s clean up first,” I suggested between gasps for breath. I got into the tub, and he followed, and in seconds we were both dripping from the hot spray. He poured soap into his hands and lathered it up, then began sliding them over my body. I did the same, and for a few minutes, we had fun, tickling and teasing and playing with each other.

“You worked so hard today,” I reminded him. “You’re very, very dirty.”

“I can think of one part, in particular, that’s dirty,” he groaned as my hand slid down his chest, over his abs…then lower.

“Oh, yeah?” I took his hard, hot length in one hand and began to stroke. “Then I’d better be thorough, huh? What about these?” I fondled his balls with my other hand and loved seeing the way I drove him crazy, just the way he did to me. It was nice to see that I had a little bit of power, too. He wasn’t the one holding all the cards. And knowing that I could bring a man like him to his knees was a turn-on, too.

The steam billowed around us as I kissed my way down Dawson’s chest. My tongue danced over the ridges of his abs, the perfection that was the chiseled V ending at his erect dick. I rinsed him well before replacing my hand with my mouth.

“Oh, shit!” he hissed when I took him all in, my lips closed around the base. He pulsed in my mouth, and a slight jerking of his hips gave away his eagerness to fuck my mouth. I had always loved giving head, especially when the guy in question was into it and not half-comatose. Dawson’s hands found the back of my head and dug into my hair. “That’s so good, baby.” He moaned his approval when I began sliding up and down his length.

My tongue pressed hard against the underside of his shaft while I twisted my head from side to side, bobbing steadily. He started thrusting against me—he couldn’t stay still. I groaned to show him how much I loved it, and his thrusts went deeper. He started grunting with every thrust, moving faster. He held my head in place and took over. All I could do was increase the pressure of my sucking until he groaned louder than ever. He wanted to pull out, but I held him in place and flicked my tongue across the bottom of the head until he exploded in my mouth.

“Oh, fuck,” he grunted, thrusting once, then again as he came. I swallowed it straight back, then carefully slid him from my mouth when he was finished. I stood and rinsed my mouth while he fought for breath, leaning against the tile.

“Where did that come from?” he asked with a shaky laugh.

“What do you mean?” He pulled me close to him and nuzzled my neck. Goosebumps popped up all over despite the hot water.

“I mean what’s with the treatment? I didn’t expect to come that soon. And in your mouth?”

I shrugged. “I’m not some porn star who wants you to come on her tits. And I wanted you to feel good.”

“But I fully intend to fuck you senseless,” he murmured, while his hands roamed my butt, then the cleft between my legs. I spread my thighs to give him room.

“And I intend to get fucked. This way, you’ll last longer.” I giggled when he nipped my neck in reply, a giggle that turned into a groan when he found my clit. I lost all sense of time and space as he took me.

Work could wait. Nobody would answer my emails that late at night, anyway.

* * *

“You’re sure about this?” His voice was barely a whisper in the darkness.

“What are you talking about? Us? Or what we’re doing?”

“Both. But mainly what we’re doing.”

I ran my leg over his while my hand glided over his chest. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

“You’re giving up so much.” His hand was warm and solid on my hip, the other on my hair. I closed my eyes and wished I could be as solid as he felt.

“Nothing worthwhile,” I reminded him. “Nothing that matters a damn bit. This is what I care about. This is what I wanted, remember? To feel like I was doing something to help other people. What better people to help than the ones I care about?”

I pushed up on one elbow to look down at him. He was just as beautiful as ever in the faint moonlight streaming through the bedroom window.

Still, he looked troubled. “Do we know everything about each other now? I mean, is it all cleared up?”

“For the most part—at least, on my end. What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You’ve still never told me what happened to make you push me away—and I haven’t pressed you, have I?” I blurted when his forehead creased in a frown. “We’re together right now, which tells me there was more than nothing between us at some time. But that’s not what you told me that night.”

He shook his head. “Not now. Please. We can talk about it, but not just now. Okay? Later. When this is all over.” His arms tightened around me, pulling me close. I rested my head on his chest again and told myself to have a little patience. It wasn’t going to be that easy.

* * *

The knock at the door the next morning didn’t surprise me. He must’ve been waiting for Dawson to leave.

I opened the door on my ex-husband, standing on the porch with a smile on his face and flowers in one hand. “How the hell do you have the nerve to show up here?” I asked in lieu of a hello. He looked the same as always. Well-tailored. The coat I’d bought for him as a Christmas present three years earlier still looked great on him. He took care of his things. Wool scarf around his neck even though it wasn’t really cold enough outside for a scarf. It was all about the look.

His expression didn’t change—at least, the part of his face I could see. His sunglasses covered a lot. “When there’s a death, people come with flowers and sympathy. That’s what I’m bringing. I heard about Craig, and I’m sorry. I know how much he meant to you.”

I folded my arms. “So you thought you would use that to your advantage. What a surprise.”

“I wanted to do something that I knew would get your attention. I didn’t think just showing up with flowers would be enough.”

“So, what? You thought you would show up with paperwork that will ruin the lives of the people I care about? You snake. You did a little digging and put everything together and decided to screw things up. Sorry, but if this is all part of your plan to get me back, you have another thing coming.”

He sniffed the air in that condescending way of his, like he smelled something foul. “If it’s that rundown little diner you’re talking about, I’m doing the town a favor. I talked to the owner; he wants out. I talked Jim into taking him on as a client. That’s what we do. We make money for people.” He smirked. “Or don’t you remember that?”

“You had no right to do that. You have no right to be here.”

“No right?” he asked. “I have no right to go after my wife when she disappears?”

“I’m not your wife anymore, Michael, and I didn’t disappear. I came here because Craig wanted me here. And it’s my life. I can do what I want without checking on whether it’s okay with you.”

“Who says?”

“The State of New York, for one, or did you forget the divorce was finalized two months ago?”

“You’re still my wife.”

I shook my head. “No, see, that’s exactly what I’m not. That’s the point of a divorce. It means we’re not married anymore.”

“That doesn’t mean the feelings I have for you just magically disappeared, Amanda.”

“Maybe you should’ve thought about those feelings before you slept with Lisa. And Marcie. And Kim…”

“I know,” he muttered. “I made a mistake.”

“You made a lot of mistakes, over and over. Don’t stand there and tell me I’m still your wife when I wasn’t your wife when it counted. You don’t get to pick and choose when you want to be a husband.” Just seeing him, just the sound of his voice, left a sour taste in my mouth. I couldn’t get rid of it no matter how many times I swallowed. My nose wrinkled like I smelled something rotten.

“I was hoping this would be the start of something new for us,” he murmured. “I want us to start over. I heard about Craig and saw it as a sign.”

“What, the death of my best friend? You thought you could use that to your advantage?” Typical. He had a way of turning situations that had nothing to do with him into a way to get what he wanted. I used to love that about him, didn’t I? Or I’d told myself I did. He was always thinking, always clever. Ambitious. I wanted a man with ambition. Or so I’d told myself.

He sighed in frustration. “It’s things like this that remind people of what’s really important, you know? I heard about Craig when I called your office, and I was upset, of course, and I thought about how upset you must be. I couldn’t let you go through it on your own.”

“Why were you even calling my office in the first place? No, forget it, don’t bother making up an answer. But you’re right about one thing. It’s times like this that remind people of what’s really important.”

“You’re what’s really important to me.”

“You’re not important to me anymore. You’ve never really known me—you have no idea what matters.”

“I know your career matters more than anything to you. You’ve worked so hard. But here you are, hanging around in Mayberry, a nowhere town you used to make jokes about all the time. You’ll come back to your senses.”

“I’ve already come to my senses, starting with our divorce and ending with quitting my job at the firm.”

His jaw dropped. Oh, it was even more rewarding than I imagined. “You what?”

“That’s right. I’m working pro bono with the town to keep the diner as-is. Sorry if you thought you could ruin all these lives just because you can’t stand the thought of me being happy somewhere else, without you.”

“You would do that? Quit a job where you were a breath away from a partnership?”

“That’s right. For once, I feel like I’m doing the right thing for me.” And I wouldn’t have to see him, either. That was another plus.

He shook his head with a sneer I had come to recognize since announcing I was leaving him. “You’re deluded.”

“No, I’m right. And I want you to leave now.” I fought to meet his eyes—well, his glasses. I wondered what he looked like underneath them. It was better if I couldn’t see his eyes. I didn’t need to see the fake concern there, or the hurt he wanted me to believe he felt. Hell, maybe he genuinely felt pain. I almost hoped he did. It would be just a tiny fraction of what he’d put me through.

“Amanda—“

“I mean it. Get out. I don’t want you here, and I don’t want to see you if I come back to town.”

“If?”

I nodded. I hadn’t dared say it out loud until just that moment. The thought of never going back to that city and all the people in it.

“Where do you plan on going?” he asked, still sneering.

“Anywhere else. Maybe I’ll stay here in town.” I braced myself for what I knew was coming.

He laughed. Damn him, he laughed.

“Get out,” I demanded. “Before I call the police.”

“Oh, I’m sure they’re a real threat.” But he did leave, still laughing in that vile way of his. I wondered what I had ever seen in him.

I remembered how happy we were when we were first together. He was dazzling, a city boy. He knew all the maître d’s at all the restaurants. He could get us a table no matter where, no matter how tough it was for normal people to get in. He knew guys who could get us tickets to sold-out shows, too. Whatever I wanted. But then, that was all I thought I wanted in those days. A nice dinner and an endless bar tab and good seats to a hot new show. A limo to take us back and forth. Spending nights in his penthouse, which became our penthouse once we got married. That was the lifestyle I had always dreamed of.

And him. He had been the man of my dreams. Gorgeous, educated, well-dressed, respected. From a blue-blood New York family. He had it all. And the fact that he wanted me made him even more attractive. He had all of New York at his feet, and he wanted me. It was intoxicating, every last bit of it.

Until it wasn’t.

I wished Craig were there. We would’ve laughed together over how I had denied the great Michael Hudson what he wanted. A big, dramatic reconciliation. Forgiveness. A wife on track for partnership at the biggest firm in Manhattan, somebody he could take to parties and banquets while he screwed everything in sight behind my back.

I told myself I should feel proud, and I did feel proud. But I also felt pain—though it wasn’t pain for him, or what we’d lost. We never really had anything, so it wasn’t possible to lose anything. Maybe my childhood dreams had died, but not much else. The most shocking part of my divorce was the realization that I had never really loved him. It was an immature love, something based on awe. Awe at him, at the idea of somebody like him wanting a nobody like me.