Temptation’s Edge (20 page)

Connor swung his duffel bag onto his shoulder and walked down the long ramp to his gate at Sea-Tac airport. He pulled his boarding pass from his shirt pocket and checked it one more time. Gate B 11. He could stop by the Starbucks and grab a coffee.

He hadn’t eaten yet, but he wasn’t hungry. He’d spent the late morning after he’d left Mischa’s place—Dylan’s apartment—and the early part of the afternoon running on pure adrenaline: making a few business calls to one of the gaming companies he did work for down in the San Francisco Bay Area, booking the flight, the hotel in San Jose. All of it with his heart working like a small jackhammer in his chest, his head spinning.

Whatever you want, darlin’.

He’d said it. What’s worse was, he’d meant it.

He couldn’t feel this way about a woman.
Couldn’t
. He hadn’t even really been in love with Ginny and look what he’d done to her! Oh, he’d never hit her, but a few fists through the wall was
every bit as unacceptable. His surly attitude. All of it too reminiscent of his father. Emotion brought it out in him. Which was why, after Ginny had left, he’d made the very conscious decision never to put himself in that position again. And now, apparently, here he was. Feeling things he shouldn’t be feeling. He had no
right
.

The way he felt about Mischa…it had disaster spelled all over it. He couldn’t stand the idea of her seeing him for what he was—a man incapable of love. A man incapable of restraining his inner rage without the strength of the walls he’d built so carefully around his emotions.

No, emotion equaled that loss of control he couldn’t afford to risk again. He needed some time away to get things back into perspective.

He reached his gate, dropped his bag on the floor, settled his computer case a little more gently and sat in one of the long row of chairs. Outside the wide windows the late-afternoon sun was breaking through the clouds, the rays silhouetting the planes on the runway. He didn’t know why it seemed odd to him that the sun would be shining with him feeling so dark inside. It wasn’t as if the damn universe had to be in accord with his moods.

He was in one hell of a mood. Which was why he was getting the hell out of town.

His cell phone rang and he pulled it out of his jeans pocket and squinted at the caller ID. Alec. He answered.

“Hey.”

“Hey, Connor. You up for dinner with Dante and me? Dylan’s meeting with Mischa, Lucie and Kara at his place. More wedding stuff. Mischa may have told you about it.”

He didn’t like to admit even in his own head that it was like a small stab in his belly to hear her name. “Can’t make it. I’m headed down to San Jose for work. I’m at the airport.”

“Right now?” Alec asked.

“Yeah. Right now.”

“You didn’t mention you were going out of town.”

“Must have slipped my mind.”

“It must have.” Alec was quiet for a beat. “You want to tell me what else is going on?”

“What do you mean?” He hadn’t meant to be so sharp with him; it had just come out that way.

“Come on, Connor. We’ve known each other long enough. You’re grouchy as hell. There must be a reason why.”

He sighed, ran a hand across his chin. He’d forgotten to shave that morning. He’d woken up with Mischa snuggled up naked against him, his heart dissolving in his chest, just melting away. Because of the way her warm body felt in his arms. Because of the driving
need
to protect her. From everything. The world. Him.

Mostly him.

How could he hurt her after all she’d been through as a kid? After the way she’d been let down? He couldn’t do that to her. He had to get out before…before what?

He
would
hurt her if he stuck around feeling the way he did. Of that he was certain. There was no way he could give her all she deserved to have from a relationship. Letting Mischa think she could have that with him…it would be cruel.

“I can hear the gears turning, Connor. They sound rusty.”

“Ha. Thanks.”

“So?”

Alec waited patiently.

“So…The girl is…She’s under my skin, you know?”

“I’m familiar with the feeling.”

“Yeah, well…” Christ, why couldn’t he finish a sentence? “I don’t like it.”

“We usually don’t, guys like us.”

“You mean guys like
me
.
You’re
getting fucking married.” He
paused, blew out a long breath. “Sorry. I don’t mean that the way it sounded. I’m happy for you and Dylan.”

“I was that guy, too, Connor,” Alec said. “Or have you forgotten already?”

“Things changed for you.”

“Yes, they have.” Alec’s tone was low, certain.

He wasn’t saying the rest, but Connor got the implication that it was possible he could change, too. He simply didn’t agree with it.

“Okay,” Alec said after a few silent moments. “Go work, take some time to get your head sorted out. Whatever you need. I won’t give you a hard time about it. Did you at least say good-bye to her?”

Anger rose, the skin at the back of his neck prickling with heat. “Of course. Who do you take me for? I’m no oaf, Alec.”

“I’m just checking. Mischa’s a tough cookie, but she deserves that much.”

“You don’t have to lecture me about what she deserves, my friend. I know it damn well. Why do you think I’m taking off like this?” He stopped, ran a hand through his hair. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I’m being an ass.”

“You are. But I can let it go. Call me when you get back. When you’re in a better mood. Or when you’re in a worse mood. If you need to talk.”

“I will. Thanks, Alec.”

“Any time.”

They hung up, and Connor stared out the window at the planes gliding down the tarmac, the sun reflecting off the tiny port windows.

This woman had really shaken him up. Shaken him to the core.

He felt like a damn coward, running like this. He
was
a damn
coward. But it would be better this way. He needed time, some distance, to get his head together. To forget the sleek, pale polish that was her bare skin. The generous curve of her breast in his hand. The blue of her eyes…The way that blue had pierced him right through to the heart when they’d filled with tears.

He shook his head.

Leaving for a while was best. He’d cool off. Regain the control he’d always counted on, and which Mischa had, bit by bit, chipped away at. He couldn’t stay in San Jose forever. A few days was all he’d need. He’d be fine. Just fine.

Why, then, had it pained him to leave her? To walk out the door knowing he was going to get on a plane as fast as he could? Why did it hurt to know the only way to continue with her was to shut down the part of himself that felt so fucking amazing because of
her
?

He massaged his chest, as if he could rub away the ache there.

He cared for the girl. That was it. Wasn’t it? Caring for her didn’t mean…anything else. It didn’t
have
to. He simply had to get back in control of his ranging emotions.

Control was key, he reminded himself.

He had a feeling that phrase was going to be a necessary mantra in his foreseeable future.

It was Thursday evening and Mischa was in a cab on her way to Kara and Dante’s place on the waterfront, just south of where Dylan lived, to go over wedding plans.

It had been a seemingly endless day alone in Dylan’s apartment. She and Connor had slept until almost ten, then he’d gotten up and left in a rush, telling her he’d forgotten he was going out of town that afternoon for a few days on business. He’d apologized, asked her over and over if she would be okay. She’d assured
him she would be, of course. But she wasn’t certain that was true.

She’d holed up in bed, watching movies while she worked on some drawings, her sketchpad in her lap, napping on and off until it was time to get ready to leave. Which was totally unlike her. It was a rare day that went by when she wasn’t working. At the shop. Drawing. Writing. Creating new business plans. Hibernating had felt strange, but necessary. She didn’t understand it. It surprised her that she’d given herself over to it. And now being out in the world felt a little like some sort of culture shock.

She was still trying to tell herself that everything was fine—that Connor just had to work—when the cab arrived at Kara and Dante’s building, a soaring structure seemingly made of glass overlooking Elliott Bay. She paid the driver, got out and took the elevator to the twenty-second floor, found their apartment and knocked. Kara opened the door, a smile on her face. Her long, light brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail, a pair of reading glasses pushed up onto her head.

“Mischa, come on in.” Kara stepped back to let her through the door. “Let me get your coat.”

Mischa looked around the loft apartment as she slid her trench coat off and handed it to Kara. “Wow. This place is amazing.”

“I still can’t believe I live here, sometimes.” Kara was grinning. “God, sorry. I don’t mean to sound snooty.”

“You’re not, don’t be silly,” Mischa assured her, giving her arm a squeeze.

“She
is
silly,” Dylan called out as she came in from the kitchen area. “Silly in love.”

“You’re the one getting married, Dylan. You’re in no position to tease
me
about being in love,” Kara answered.

“Excellent point.” Dylan smiled.

Mischa just shook her head, turning to explore the art on the
living room walls. To get away from all this…happiness, for a moment.

“This is some great photography,” she said, gesturing to a grouping of architectural prints on one wall over the sleek cream-colored sofa piled with brocade pillows.

“Thanks,” Kara answered. “I’ve been collecting for a few years. By the way, are you guys okay with eating as soon as Lucie gets here? I’m starving. Mischa, we ordered Chinese. Dylan said you liked curries, so we got some Singapore street noodles for you. And…too much of everything. I hope you’re hungry.”

“A little,” Mischa answered, although that wasn’t quite true. She’d hardly been able to eat all day, drinking tea and nibbling on toast. Trying not to question why Connor had somehow overlooked the fact that he was going to have to leave town today until they woke up this morning. Until the day after they’d had some of the best sex of her life.

It was more than great sex. It was soul-baring, gut-wrenching conversation about things she’d only ever confided with Dylan.

The door buzzed and Kara let Lucie in. The petite blonde gave everyone a hug, including Mischa. She had a sweetness about her; Mischa had liked her on sight when they’d met at the engagement party.

Where she’d met Connor.

Why did every thought circle back around to Connor?

“The food’s already out. Let’s eat,” Dylan said, leading them all into the dining area at one end of the loft apartment. White take-out boxes were lined up along the center of the enormous table that looked as if it was made of reclaimed wood. Italian dishware in looping patterns of blue, terra cotta and yellow were set at four places.

They all picked a place and sat while Kara poured water into tall glasses from a pitcher.

“I have Tsingtao beer, too, in honor of our Chinese cuisine, or sake, if anyone wants it. Or I can make tea.”

“I think I need some alcohol to get through this,” Dylan said with a small sigh.

“Don’t worry,” Lucie assured her, “we’ll be fine. All that’s left to figure out is the music and the menu. Have you guys decided if you’re writing your own vows?”

Dylan groaned, pushing her abundant red curls from her face with both hands. “I’d forgotten about the vows.”

“Luckily I have my books with me.”

“Books?” Mischa asked.

Lucie twisted to pull several paperbacks from the large tote bag she’d hung on the back of her chair, making a small pile on the table. “I have a few books with wedding ceremonies and readings. I got them when I started making wedding cakes. Weddings can be overwhelming—people are always forgetting some small detail.”

“Ah, don’t say that,” Dylan said. “Kara, I think I need that beer.”

“Coming right up. Lucie? Mischa?”

“A beer sounds just about perfect,” Mischa answered.

“Beer is good,” Lucie said. “Let me help.”

Kara went to the kitchen and Lucie followed her to help carry the drinks back.

Dylan leaned over and asked quietly, “You okay?”

Mischa flipped the linen napkin into her lap, fiddled with the edge of it. “Fine.”

“Don’t make me fight you for it, Misch. They’ll only be gone a minute.”

Mischa bit her lip. “A minute isn’t long enough to talk about it.”

“Okay. Why don’t we hang out at my place after and we can talk before I head back to Alec’s?”

Mischa nodded as Kara and Lucie came back into the room, their hands full of beer bottles.

“That would be great. If you don’t mind.”

“Of course not.” Dylan gave her hand a quick squeeze under the table.

The evening was a long one, with detailed discussion about the pros and cons of hiring a band or a DJ. Kara argued for the DJ, Lucie argued for a live band, and Mischa was somewhere in between. Dylan finally settled on a string quartet for the ceremony and a band who specialized in big band–era swing for the reception. The issue of writing their own vows was left for another day. Still, it was after eleven when they all decided they’d done enough, and Dylan and Mischa said their good-byes.

Dylan was mostly quiet as she drove them back to her apartment. The stereo was playing, and she chatted about wedding details as she navigated the now-rainy streets. She parked and they got out, running through the rain to the building. Inside the apartment they got out of their wet coats and Dylan moved automatically into the kitchen to make tea.

“So, talk to me, Misch,” she said, pouring hot water into a pair of mugs and handing one to Mischa, who was sitting at the counter.

She shrugged. Now that it was time to hash it out she didn’t know where to begin.

“Connor left town today.”

“Did he?”

Dylan was trying to look as if this didn’t concern her, but Mischa could see it did.

“Alec didn’t know about this, either?”

“I don’t think so. He told me he was going to ask him to have dinner with him and Dante while we monopolized the apartment tonight. He didn’t tell you in advance that he was leaving town?”