She was overwhelmed.
So overwhelmed.
He’d kissed her good night on the cheek and then walked her all the way across the street to her apartment, only to kiss her again, ask if she needed anything, and walk away.
Or she assumed he walked away. He could still be standing out in the front of her apartment building, and she’d have no idea.
Sometimes not seeing sucked.
She bit her lip, then smiled. But tonight? Tonight it didn’t suck, because Brant had told her about the stars, because his voice had been like coming home. They’d teased. They’d laughed.
No yelling. No breaking things. Just the Brant she remembered.
Moisture burned in her eyes before she wiped the angry tears away. In theory, she understood what he was doing, but it was still confusing as hell. Did he really want her? Or was he doing this out of guilt? And what happened when, at the end of everything, she fell for him all over again only to have him walk away again—or worse, decide that she wasn’t worth it.
She shook the thought away. She wanted to trust him. But trust had to be earned.
Look at her—one date in and she was already falling for him all over again. Who was she kidding? Even when he was angry she never really stopped wanting him, at least the old him, the one she knew was trapped in an angry prison of their own making.
Brant Wellington, player, millionaire, sex god—ex-husband—was wooing her. She’d have to be an idiot to turn him down—even though she had a sinking feeling it wasn’t going to end well. How could it? With so much damage still done? So many things left unsaid between them, and then tonight when she’d mentioned talking he’d said, Later.
Putting it off wasn’t going to make it any less painful. So she’d agreed. What other choice did she have? When faced with the one man she still ached for?
Nikki went through the motions of getting ready for bed only to blink up at the swirls of grays and blacks above her. Thinking of his hands. And the way they felt against her skin.
She shivered and then imagined she was in his bed; he was holding her and promising to never let go. Focus on the good, he’d said. The before, the after, not the in between that had destroyed them.
* * *
Nikki was woken up by what sounded like knocking. What time was it? Where the hell was she?
The pounding came again, only this time it sounded like urgent knocking. Softness surrounded her.
Bed…she was in bed. Oh God, she hadn’t set her alarm last night.
More knocking. She shot out of bed.
“Crap!” Her knee hit her nightstand as she bolted away from the mattress and made a mad dash to the door. “I’m late. I’m sorry!”
Cole’s blurry figure stood before her. “Don’t be.” Was he laughing? “I wrongly assumed you slept with Brant last night and woke him up at the ass crack of dawn. He was not pleased. And I couldn’t hold back the shit-eating grin on my face.”
“What? Why?” Nikki bumped into a chair and scooted it away as she went to the fridge.
“Because he didn’t get laid and I know it. Happiest day of my life.”
She groaned. “I thought you wanted me to try with him.”
“Oh, I do. I just find great satisfaction from you making him work for it. Hey, how about tonight you put on something sexy, rub all over him, and then walk away? Only take a picture of his expression right before you do. I want it as a screensaver.”
“Very funny.”
“Or, wait.” The sound of him snapping his fingers echoed through the small one-bedroom unit. “Tell him to wait for you naked, blindfold him, then leave him with an ungodly amount of roses around his body for the maids to find.”
Nikki tipped back some orange juice and wiped her mouth. “You done?”
“I’ll think of more later, I’m sure,” Cole said cheerfully. “Also, lucky you, the very first appointment of the day is in less than an hour and it’s Nadine Titus.”
Nikki froze. “Do you think she’ll…be picky?”
“Last night the woman was tossing shots back with George and Mr. Wellington like they were water. My guess, she’s going to be snoring through the whole thing or nursing a hangover.”
“Good.” Nikki nodded as her palms started to sweat. She knew Nadine was going to pry; she couldn’t help herself. She was like a shark when it came to matchmaking—relentless.
And part of Nikki just wanted to keep what was happening between her and Brant—at least, the details.
Cole interrupted her thoughts. “You need help with anything?”
“Nah, I’ll be ready in fifteen.”
True to her word, Nikki was knocking on the door to her massage room about twenty minutes later.
“Mrs. Titus?”
“I think by now you can just call me Nadine or Grandma.” Her soft voice piped up. “Sounds weird being a missus when you’ve spent half your life being a mistress.”
Nikki smirked and made her way around the table, placing her hands on the sheet. “Sounds good, Grandma.” Her own grandma was dead; her parents had rejected her marriage to Brant right off the bat, and they had been estranged ever since. Which meant she really didn’t have much of a family outside of Cole and the staff.
“I have to ask.” Nadine stretched her arms above her head then tucked them back under the sheet. “What’s best? The angry kiss or the makeup kiss?”
Nikki froze. “I’m sorry?”
“Well, he’s such an angry one, that Brant. Does he kiss that way? Or does he kiss you tenderly? Or maybe he does both?”
“Um…” How the hell did she answer that?
“Oh, how nice, he does both.” The woman wouldn’t stop talking. “You know, back in my day we never labeled kisses. Kissing was kissing. These days there’s tongue, there’s…well, I won’t go there, but there’s this thing you do to a man that can—”
“All right!” Nikki found herself shouting. “How about we try a deep-tissue relaxation massage. You can even fall asleep.” Please, God, make her fall asleep.
Nadine yawned. “Oh, okay, dear. Thank you for giving him a chance again.”
“You sound so positive that I am.”
“Well, you are standing straighter. Your smile’s brighter. Last night when you were under the stars—”
“Wait, weren’t you at dinner?”
“Never mind that. You looked like you were home. It was a good feeling. Just give him a chance. That man has a lot of love to give.”
Nikki shivered as memories she’d kept locked down seemed to break free. His hands. His body. Their kisses. Shower sex. Elevator sex. So really, just sex everywhere all the time—which was probably what led to getting pregnant.
Not that they hadn’t been trying. Because Brant really had wanted a big family. And so had she.
Tears welled in her eyes when she thought of all of their moments, their love, the way he always made her feel like the most beautiful woman in the world, the way he’d tried so damn hard to be perfect.
Only to fail. When she’d needed him the most. Because she had pushed him away. Because she had said hurtful things.
“Nikki?” Nadine interrupted her. “Are you okay? You’ve been rubbing my bunion for a good two minutes.”
Nikki jerked back. Bunion? “Really?”
“No, no bunion, I just don’t want to be rubbed raw. If you need me to reschedule…”
“Sorry. I was thinking.”
“Of Brant?”
It was hopeless, the woman was going to be a talker. “Yeah.”
“I love a good story. Tell me about Brant’s hands.”
Nikki froze. “What? What do you mean, his hands?”
“Or better yet, his body. Explain him through your eyes.”
“But I can’t really see.”
“Exactly. What do you feel?”
Nikki spent the next hour telling Nadine everything: The way his cheeks were rough at night because his beard always grew in too fast. The smell of his skin after a shower. The feel of his chest under the palm of her hand. The way he held her in his arms, gentle, firm, all the ways he held her hand.
And slowly, it was as if she were falling in love with him all over again.
“All right.” Nadine yawned. “I think our time is up. Thank you for the lovely story.”
Nikki blinked and then whispered, “Thank you for helping me remember.”
“Sometimes, we repress the things that hurt most. I know there’s more in there, more hurt, but that’s for you two to work through.”
Nikki wasn’t sure she was going to be able to work the rest of the day; she was emotionally spent.
“Oh!” Nadine clapped her hands together. “Brant told me to give you this.”
“Brant? Brant sent you here?”
“For a massage, yes, but mainly to give you this.”
It was in Braille. Nikki’s fingers trembled as they ran over the card stock. “It’s an invitation.”
“To an early Thanksgiving dinner.”
“Right, but it’s…summer.”
“Brant has it in his head to re-create Thanksgiving dinner, so we’re going to re-create it.”
And suddenly, Nikki realized she wouldn’t survive this seduction, not at all. Because the only Thanksgiving they had ever spent with his family was the day they had told them they were pregnant.
There had been a food fight. Yelling. It had been horrible. She’d left in tears. Brant had sworn to never talk to his grandfather again. And Bentley, his own twin, had taken his grandfather’s side.
Thanksgiving dinner was a reminder of all she’d lost—and it was hard not to struggle with the choking fear that history was about to repeat itself.
“Be brave,” Grandma Nadine whispered.
“Brave,” she repeated.
“You have it in you. All women do. Especially those of us who have lost.”