I Speak...Love (A Different Road #3) (13 page)

Eight at night on a Friday evening, and I’m sitting in my office working. I live such an exciting life. My cell phone vibrates next to my hand with an incoming call. I tilt it to me so I can see who is calling. It’s Friday and the expected weekend dinner invitation is overdue. I read the display, and it says,
unknown caller.
I set the phone back down, relieved it’s not Kate or Joss with an invitation to dinner that I’m only going to decline.

The phone stops ringing and I get back to work. Thirty minutes later, it rings again. Again, it says,
unknown caller.
This time, something tells me I should answer it. I swipe my finger across the screen and put it to my ear.

“Hello,” I answer irritated.

“Stephen?” a gentle voice asks.

Chills break out over my arms and chest when instantly I recognize who it is.

It’s Maddy.

“Sweetness,” I breathe.

I hear the hushed intake of her breath from the term of endearment. God, I love doing that to her.

“I hope I’m not calling too late. I wanted to thank you again for the camera,” she says in a sweet, sexy whisper.

“It’s not too late. I’m still at work,” I tell her.

“You’re still at work? Have you eaten dinner?” she asks.

As if on cue, my stomach growls reminding me that no, I haven’t eaten dinner yet and yes, I’m starving.

“I haven’t eaten yet. I was just about to pack up and head home,” I tell her.

“Why don’t you come over for a late dinner? It will take you fifteen-twenty minutes to get here, by then, I can have something ready,” she offers.

A smile immediately forms on my face with the opportunity to see Maddy again today.

No, this has gone on long enough as it is. You need to nip this in the bud before you find yourself addicted and unable to keep away from her.

Too late. Who am I kidding? I’m already addicted to her.

“Are you sure it’s not too late?” I ask.

I know she has that shoot in the morning. I don’t want to keep her up.

“Not at all, I’ll see you in a little bit,” she says.

“See you in a few,” I say and hang up.

I quickly pack up my briefcase for the weekend with all the files I need to work on, then I grab my keys and get in my car. I stop at a store, pick up a bottle of wine, then drive outside of Malibu and pull into Maddy’s driveway in just under twenty minutes without any traffic.

I knock on the door and hear her feet hitting the floor as she quickly walks toward the door. It opens and like a reverse vacuum, the smell of a fresh batch of her famous chocolate chip cookies hits my nose. Shortly after that, my eyes greedily travel over Maddy’s delicious body. She’s wearing a pair of worn shorts that are frayed at the ends and a tank top. Her hair is in a ponytail, but this time, it’s loose at the nape of her neck. Every time I see her, she sends each and every one of my senses into a lustful frenzy.

“Hi,” she says in a breathy whisper, cocking her head to the side as I enjoy the sight of her body.

“Hi,” I reply with a crooked smirk.

“Come in,” she offers, then opens the door all the way.

I walk inside and immediately spot her laptop and the camera sitting on the coffee table. There are two place settings at the counter bar top and the mix of aromas makes my mouth water. Not only for the food, but again for her. She closes the door behind me, and I hand her the bottle of wine. She takes it with a smile, and then heads into the kitchen. I follow behind her and take a seat at one of the high-backed stools at the island. She opens a drawer and removes a wine opener, then with ease, she opens it and places it next to me. She retrieves two wine glasses and sets them next to the bottle. She goes over to the stove and fills two plates, then sets one in front of me and the other next to me. I pour us each a glass of wine, then she walks around and sits next to me.

We sit side by side and eat while I tell her about my day. I’ve never done this before, and I have to say, it feels good to have someone actually want to listen to me talk and tell them all about the day I had. After we’re both done eating, she takes both plates in her hand and stands up.

“I’ll get them,” I tell her and take the plates from her.

“You don’t have to,” she replies.

“I don’t have to, but I want to. You cooked, I’ll clean. It looks like you were working on something; go ahead. I’ll be there in a few minutes,” I tell her, jutting my chin out toward the coffee table.

She smiles, then takes her glass of wine and sits on the couch. She opens her laptop and clicks on a few things while I clean up the little mess there is to clean up. It looks like she cleans as she works because really all there is to do is load the two plates and silverware in the dishwasher. I spot the cookies on a platter on the far counter and pop one in my mouth. Maddy eyes me from the couch and smiles a sexy smile at me, instantly making me hard. She picks up her laptop, crosses her legs underneath her ass, then sits back against the couch.

I walk up behind her and see a picture of food on her laptop, then I take her ponytail in my hand and run my hand down her silky, smooth hair. I gently sweep it off her neck and twirl it around my finger. She cocks her head to the side, revealing the sexy dip in her freckled shoulder. It’s then I see a pink orchid tattooed on her upper left shoulder. I lean down and softly place my tongue on the back of her neck and slide the loose strap of her tank top and bra over the edge of her shoulder, exposing that the orchid isn’t the end of her tattoo. There’s more of it hidden under her tank top. I drag my tongue over to the orchid, then place my lips firmly on her skin. I slowly kiss her upper back and watch as her eyes again roll in the back of her head, then close. Gently, I suck her satin smooth skin between my lips as a soft hum vibrates on her throat. Even as far as her tank top is lowered, I still can’t see the end of her tattoo. I’ve fantasized about playing connect the dots with her freckles on her body. I close my eyes and imagine myself kissing every magnificent freckle and every last drop of ink that covers her entire perfect body.

I open my eyes, then with my other hand, I gently slip the other strap of her tank top and bra down her other shoulder. I push the straps down lower on her arms, exposing the very tips of her pale, supple, pastel pink nipples. My erection swells, and I desperately want to run my tongue up and down her pebbled nipples. Slowly, I move one hand to the front of her chest, then sink downward over her silky smooth, warm breast. Gently firming my grip, I roll her nipple between my finger and thumb. She moans with pleasure and rocks her hips and ass firmly in her seat. She firmly grips her laptop in her hand, pushing a few buttons in the process, changing the picture that’s on the screen. My hand underneath her bra freezes in place when I see it’s one of the pictures I took of her earlier in my office. She looks so happy, so perfect, so beautiful, and so very damned breakable.

You can’t do this to her.

I remove my lips from her skin and stand up. I dig my hand in my pocket and adjust my raging hard on. She turns around and looks at me with lust dripping in her eyes.

You so can’t do this to her

“I should go,” I tell her.

Instantly, her eyes fill with a fraction of the pain I know I can cause her.

“Is it something I did?” she asks, pulling up her shirt.

“No, it’s not you. It’s me,” I tell her the lamest cliché in all of history.

She stands up, then puts her laptop on the coffee table and follows me to the door. I place my hand on the handle, determined to leave before I hurt her, but stop when she places her hand on my shoulder.

How can something that feels so damned right be so wrong?

“Stephen,” she calls.

Don’t turn around. Don’t look in her eyes. Don’t do it. You’ll only hurt her more.

“Maddy, I’m sorry, I can’t do this. I’m not good for you. I’ll only end up hurting you,” I say, telling her the truth.

I turn the handle on the door and leave without another look. I’m pretty sure though that this has hurt me so much more than it hurts her.

Stephen just left and I’m so confused. What did I do? He saw my tattoo. Did it disgust him and turn him off? He saw and touched my side bra chubby rolls. Did that horrify him? When someone gives you the sorry for an excuse,
it’s not you, it’s me—
it’s most definitely not them and absolutely one hundred percent you. It’s probably for the better in the long run anyway. The punishment of losing Stephen after falling in love with him wouldn’t just hurt—it would totally destroy me.

The problem is . . . I’ve already started to fall for him.

I walk over to the couch and bite my thumb between my teeth as I stare at the happy photo of a woman I don’t identify with. I slam the lid closed, walk down the hallway to my bedroom, and flop on the bed with tears in my eyes.

The next morning, I wake up early and start a pot of coffee. I take my cup outside and sit on the patio to enjoy the warm morning sunrise. As I take a sip from my favorite coffee cup, I glance back inside the house at the backpack sitting on the coffee table. It instantly reminds me of the person who gave it to me, and that he walked out on me last night. It also reminds me that I have my very first paid photo shoot in only a few short hours.

I finish my cup of coffee, then grab some comfortable clothes and walk into the bathroom. I strip naked, with the thoughts of last night fresh in my mind, and stare at myself in the mirror. I reach up and pinch the side fat that rests between my arm and my breast and make an ugly face in the mirror. I look at my crazy, wiry red hair and pale complexion marred in ugly brown freckles. It’s no wonder he left. I tip my shoulder to the side and look at the tattoo I once thought was beautiful. I don’t know why I thought it was beautiful. What it represents and the reasons why I got it aren’t beautiful at all.

I get in the shower, then I get dressed and pack up my camera. Just before eleven, I plaster on my perfected chameleon smile and wait for Nina. At eleven on the nose, there’s a knock on my door. I grab my backpack and walk to the door.

I check my chameleon smile, then I open the door. The second it’s open, Nina’s face changes from happy-go-lucky to concern.

“What’s wrong?” she deadpans, taking my hand, leading me back to the couch.

She puts her hands on my shoulders and pushes me down on my ass on the cushion.

“Umm . . . nothing, but we need to get going,” I say, standing back up.

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong,” she insists, pushing me back down on the couch on my ass.

I look her in the eyes, and I know for a fact that she plans on doing just that. I’ll never get to my first photo session if I don’t spill it.

“Stephen,” I say, hoping that one word is enough.

“Ah,” she says. “What did he do?” she asks, not letting my one word answer be enough.

I again look into her eyes to gauge how much of this I really need to get into before we can leave. From the look in her eyes, she want’s every last detail.

“We’ve been . . . I have . . . I think I’m . . .” I start to say, flustered, but I can’t seem to finish a single thought out loud.