Prologue-3
1192 Words
“Thanks, but no. I need a few minutes alone to think.” She focused on buttoning up her jacket so he wouldn’t see the lie in her eyes. “Much as I understand, this is a lot to absorb. Besides, I’m parked right down the street.”
“It’s awfully late.” He looked helplessly at the line in front of the cash register and the waitresses rushing to clean up after the crowd. “I’d be more comfortable if you’d—”
“This isn’t Montreal. You’re more dangerous than anyone I’ll meet outside—Hey!” She giggled when he made a grab for her. For a second, things seemed lighter, brighter, their familiar playfulness a splash of yellow paint all over reality.
He caught her and wrapped her up in his great big arms, holding her close. Surrounded by his warmth, his strength, she felt her knees grow weak. She peeked up at him.
His eyes twinkled with mischief. He bent low and his lips brushed her earlobe as he spoke, letting his accent thicken his tone. “So you think I’m dangerous?”
Hell, yes. When he talked to her, in that smooth, rich voice—damn, the things he could have made her do. Thankfully, he didn’t let the Southern playboy out often—with her anyway—but even without the vocal seductiveness and the face and the body, he played havoc with her concept of reality. He made her smile and laugh, made her believe in silly things like love at first sight.
But she was a Delgado. The responsible sister.
And he’d just proved he wasn’t the man for her.
“You really shouldn’t—” She squirmed out of his arms and the pain inside returned, even harder to swallow than before. “I have a boyfriend, Max.”
His lips drew together in a thin, hard line. “After last time, I thought you were ready to end things with him. You kissed me.”
Another blush flared up on her cheeks. She smacked his arm. “That’s not fair. You gave me chocolate—and it was a kiss on the cheek. A friendly kiss.”
“Ah, I see.” He bent over and pressed a light kiss on her forehead. “Well, then, here’s another.” His cheek brushed hers. “And if things are going well between you and Paul, I’m happy for you, honestly. But I hope you’ve made it clear you won’t tolerate him making you feel like s**t about yourself whenever he’s having a bad day.”
She rested her head on his solid chest, breathing in his fresh scent, lightly tainted with beer. As she drew away, the overpowering aroma of freshly ground coffee beans took over, clearing her head.
“Of course.” She hooked her purse over her arm and nodded at the waitress waiting nearby. “You sure you don’t want me to pay for myself?”
“I’m sure.” He patted her cheek. “Might make a dent in my savings, but you’re worth it.”
“All right, then I guess I’ll see you around,” she said, even though she knew she wouldn’t. She swallowed when he let her go and started to turn away. “Thank you for . . . everything.”
“Yeah, well, take care. And don’t you worry.” His jaw worked as he paused, head down, and shoved his hand into his pocket for his wallet. “I’ll be here when . . . whenever.”
The bells over the door tinkled as she hurried out, desperate to get to her car before his sweet acceptance of her choices ripped apart her resolve. Before she’d reached the end of the block, the bells sounded again. She glanced over her shoulder and saw him, standing there. The gentle weight of his eyes on her back remained until she’d reached the safety of her car.
Once inside, she eyed him through the rearview mirror. Her heart beat hard between her ears when he didn’t move. Finally, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and took off in the other direction.
Make a U-turn! Go tell him the truth!
Shaking her head, she started the car, then pulled out. All the way home, her decision dragged her down. When she trampled up the front steps, she felt like all her bones were made of lead. The porch light blinded her as she fumbled in her pockets for her keys.
The door swung open. Paul sighed and gestured her inside. “Let’s get this over with.”
She closed the door softly behind her, then pulled off her jacket and went to hang it in the closet. “Get what over with?”
“You’re sorry, you’ll never do it again—”
Her shoulders stiffened as she turned to face him. “I’m not sorry.”
His dark brown brows creased in confusion. “But you’re back.”
“Yeah. I’m back.” She strode across the living room, kicked off her shoes, then plunked down on the stiff, white leather sofa. “And I’ll be sleeping here tonight.”
The grandfather clock in the hall ticked off the seconds in the silence. Paul’s shadow wisped over her as he crossed the room.
“Hey, I’m giving the guys a break tomorrow.” He scuffed his socks on the carpet and cleared his throat. “Maybe we can go visit your dad?”
Damn him, he always knows just what to say. Visits with her dad were . . . pleasant when Paul was around.
“I’d like that.” Curling up on her side, she wrapped her arms around her chest. The dull ache wouldn’t go away. Almost felt like something inside had been surgically removed. Maybe her heart.
“Okay.” Paul bent down and kissed her cheek. “We’ll talk more in the morning. I was a little rough on you . . . I like that you’re so into the game, but this is my job. I see things differently than you do.”
“I know.” The wet spot where he’d pressed his lips felt cold. But for some reason, the spot on her forehead where Max had kissed her still burned. So not right. “But a win’s a win. You’ve gotta give the guys more credit. The goaltender was off his game. If the first line hadn’t pushed so hard—”
“That’s what you don’t get. If they’d focused on defense like I’d told them to—they deserved to lose after that performance.”
“The first line worked their asses off.”
Paul pushed away from the sofa. “You mean Max.”
“Not only him.” But he was probably the main reason for the fight. Maybe Paul sensed something between them. And if he did, this was all her fault. She reached out to touch the back of his hand. “I really hate when you call me stupid, Paul. Just because I can’t understand why you’d get so upset about your team winning—”
“And you never will.” He shook his head. “We’ll talk more tomorrow, Oriana. Get some sleep.”
Lying perfectly still, Oriana listened to the sound of Paul ascending the steps to their bedroom. She stared at the front door for a while, feeling trapped. If only she had the guts to get up and leave again. For good.
But this was her life. What she’d chosen. What she wanted. Normal. Stable. Things would get easier once she accepted all her dreams of some great romance were just that. Dreams.
But for now . . . she closed her eyes and drifted away into a place where reality didn’t matter. Where Max waited with his teasing smile and warm embrace.
- Writer
