What Happens Between Friends (22 page)

Tears stung her eyes. She didn’t understand. It should have been the best moment of her life so far, a magical moment, one she could look back on with a fond smile. The first kiss with the man she loved, the man she planned on spending the rest of her life with. But it wasn’t.

Because he wasn’t kissing her back.

He grasped her upper arms and pushed her away from him. Panic and confusion suffused her.

Holding her at arm’s length, he watched her. She wanted to see longing in his eyes, wanted to imagine he was being noble and honorable, not wanting to take advantage of her despite his feelings, his attraction to her.

But it wasn’t attraction she saw in his eyes, it was regret. Affection, yes, but not burning desire or love.

“Charlotte,” he said in his lovely, deep voice, “I...” He shook his head.

Humiliation washed over her, coated her mouth and throat with a bitter taste. Oh, God. She didn’t understand. What had she done wrong? It should have been perfect. Hadn’t she done everything to make sure it was? She’d set the scene, had planned it all out. This was supposed to be the night when everything changed between them, when he realized he couldn’t live without her.

When he realized how much he loved her.

“I...I don’t understand,” she said, trying to smile, because surely she could still turn this around. “Don’t you find me attractive?”

“You’re beautiful.”

But he didn’t sound like a man in the throes of passion. He sounded like a big brother assuring his awkward sister that someday the boys were going to be lining up for her. Just like he had all those years ago.

She couldn’t give up. Not when she was this close to getting what she wanted. “Look, I know what you’re thinking. There’s the age difference and the fact that you and Sadie are friends, but none of that matters to me. It doesn’t,” she insisted as he cursed under his breath and let her go to start pacing. She twisted her hands together. “We would be so good together. We’ll take it slow, of course, to start. It’ll be a shock to some people, us getting together, but once they see how we’re meant to be—”

“Charlotte,” he said with a sigh.

“No,” she rushed on. “They will. We both want the same things. Marriage and kids and life right here in Shady Grove. It’ll be perfect. Perfect,” she repeated, sounding more irrational than she would have liked.

“Both of us wanting that isn’t enough to make a relationship work,” he said carefully. “It doesn’t take the place of real feelings, the kind that will last a lifetime.”

Her feelings were real, damn it. They had to be.

“Couldn’t we—” She swallowed. “Couldn’t we at least try? We could date, get to know each other better.” That had been her mistake, she realized. She’d gone too fast. Hadn’t taken enough time for him to know her as an adult, as a person other than simply his best friend’s little sister.

Once he did, he would realize he should be with her.

He swiped up his clipboard. “It wouldn’t work.”

“Is there someone else?”

His gaze flicked to the floor before he met her eyes again. “No.”

Her shoulders sagged in relief. “Then there’s no reason we can’t—”

“Charlotte, I care about you,” he said.

She shook her head, hugged her arms around herself as if that alone could protect her from what she clearly saw coming. “Don’t,” she whispered, her throat painfully tight. “Please—”

“I’m sorry,” he said, whether in response to her plea or a preemptive apology for how he was about to rip her heart out, she wasn’t sure. “But I don’t think of you that way.” His voice was low. Compassionate. Kind. “I don’t feel that way about you.”

And, oh, God, but that kindness, that compassion made it worse, so much worse.

“I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression,” he said, reaching out as if to touch her, to pat her on the head like a child.

She lurched back blindly, kicked the glasses with enough force to have them airborne before crashing to the floor. Champagne sprayed her bare ankles, shards of crystal flew.

“Careful,” James said, tugging her away from the mess.

She stared pointedly at his hand until he dropped her arm. “I need to clean this up,” she said, but instead of coming across as strong, angry, she sounded hollow. Broken.

He opened his mouth, but then nodded. Slapping his clipboard against his thigh, he walked to the doorway. Stopped and faced her. “I really am sorry, Charlotte.”

She didn’t look at him. Could never face him again. He’d been so damned nice about it, so sympathetic. She would have preferred him laughing at her.

Unmoving, she stared at the burning candles until she heard the front door close. Until the flames wavered through her blurred vision. Until she slid to the floor, curled her knees to her chest, laid her head down and cried.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“W
HAT
THE
HELL
are you doing here?”

Sadie looked up with a start, her heart racing to see James standing in the doorway to the Montesano office, looking like some thundercloud. “James. God, you scared me.” She glared at Elvis, who was lying next to her, his head on his front paws, his tail swinging back and forth. “Some watchdog you’re turning out to be.”

Scowling, James stepped into the office. “Damn it, you’re not supposed to be here.”

She stiffened at his angry tone. “I wanted to finish typing up these estimates for Eddie.” Plus, ever since her mother had refused to give her the money to leave town, she avoided being at the house as much as possible. “What is your issue?” she asked, her own irritation growing. He had no right to come in and interrupt her, to growl at her this way.

He paced the short length of the room. “Nothing.”

“Fine,” she said, standing. “I’ll just get out of—”

He was already storming into the kitchenette. Sadie rolled her eyes. She shut down the computer and grabbed her purse while James muttered to himself, opening and slamming cupboard doors.

“Where is it?” he demanded.

Putting her sweater on, she barely glanced at him. “Where’s what?”

“My mug.” He stormed over, glared at her desk where the blue mug she’d sent him from Texas a few years ago sat, complete with the remains of her afternoon tea and a lipstick smudge. “Goddamn it,” he said, grabbing it and shaking it at her, “this is my mug.”

“I realize that, seeing as how I gave it to you.”

“Mine,” he repeated, getting closer, stalking her until she backed up a step. Then another. “Don’t you ever use it again.”

“You,” she said pointedly, “have lost your ever-loving mind.”

He whirled around, threw the mug across the room. Tea arced out, splashed onto the floor, splattered the metal filing cabinet. The cup hit the wall, the ceramic exploding into dozens of pieces that rained to the floor.

Eyes wide enough to pop right out of her head, Sadie could only stare at James.

“You were right,” he said, his body vibrating. “Damn it, you were completely right. I saw it, too late, but I did see it. I tried to stop it...”

“Jamie, what has gotten into you?”

“Charlotte. She kissed me. Told me we were meant to be together.”

Oh, poor Charlotte. And poor James. Even more upsetting was the jealousy gnawing at Sadie’s gut, the urge she had to go to her little sister and tell her, in no uncertain terms, to keep away from James.

He plopped down on the chair near the filing cabinet, laid his head in his hands. “Why me? I’m ten years older. She’s surrounded by doctors and firefighters and police officers...why the hell did she have to pick me?”

Sadie kneeled next to him, the cold concrete seeping through the thin material of her skirt. “Oh, James,” she said softly, laying her hand on his thigh. “How could she not? You’re honest, hardworking and so damned good.”

He was perfect. The perfect man for someone like Charlotte, someone who wanted nothing more than to stay in her small hometown, who wanted to make a family there, live the rest of her life with the same hills for a view, surrounded by the same people she’d known since she was born.

“I messed up,” he admitted on a soft exhale, his eyes bleak. “I thought I could handle it, could handle her. That it would be better to ignore it, but I walked right into it, like an idiot. She had a picnic set up, a romantic picnic, with champagne and candles. I could’ve stopped it, tonight, days ago, but I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. But I did. I hurt her. I embarrassed her.”

And both of those would weigh heavily on James, with his kind heart. Be the cause of his anger. His frustration. “I’m sorry, James. But you can’t be too hard on yourself. She’s young. She’ll get over it.”

“I kept telling myself that as I walked out. I know you’re right. It’s just...” He shook his head. “I let it go on too long. I told myself it was because I didn’t want to jump to conclusions or hurt her feelings, but part of it was that I didn’t want to face it. She’s Charlotte, your little sister, the girl we used to babysit, for Christ’s sake.”

“She’s a grown woman. One with her own mind, her own feelings, who makes her own choices. She chose to try something, to go after something with no guarantees of how it would end. I think that’s incredibly brave.”

He nodded. “I’m not deluding myself that I’m her great love and she’ll never get over me, but I feel guilty for not putting a stop to it earlier.”

“Like you said, you didn’t want to hurt her.”

“Is that why you kissed me back?” he asked, his gaze intense. “That night at my house. Is that why you made love to me, because you didn’t want to hurt my feelings?”

“The two situations are totally different,” she said.

“Are they?”

“Yes. For one thing, you and I were friends. You and Charlotte were more...friends by proxy. For another, her feelings for you were remnants of a childhood crush. She took it too far, that’s all.”

“Maybe that’s what I did,” he said, as if to himself. “That night. Maybe I took old feelings too far. Made them too important.”

She was too stunned to speak, too scared to move. What was this fear building inside of her? Why did it feel as if he was trying to make what had happened between them meaningless? Why couldn’t she let him? She should. It would be better for them both if she did.

Easier for them both to move on.

This might even be the way for her to salvage her friendship with him, a way to guarantee he’d always be in her life. Always be there for her.

But he was looking for the truth from her now. He needed her.

He. Needed. Her.

For the first time, he was turning to her. This was her chance to give back when before, she’d always taken.

He started to stand, but she shifted so that she kneeled in front of him, pressed her hands on his legs to keep him seated. “No. I wasn’t pretending. Not that night. Not when I came to your house last weekend and kissed you. I wish I was.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve already done so much to screw this up. I don’t want to hurt you, Jamie. It’s the last thing I’d ever want to do. But when you kissed me on your birthday...it wasn’t one-sided.” She admitted what she’d kept from even herself. She slid her hands up his thighs, felt his muscles tighten under her fingers. “This isn’t one-sided,” she whispered, leaning forward.

Their gazes held, the air charged around them until all she could hear was their harsh breathing, all she could feel was the erratic thumping of her own heart, the warmth of James under her hands.

They came together at the same time, their mouths voracious, the kiss heated and hungry and desperate. He yanked her onto his lap, shoved her skirt up to her hips. His jeans were rough against her bare inner thighs, his hands hard and seeking as they roamed over her body. She latched onto his shoulders, felt the hard ridge of his arousal at her center. Rolled her hips.

He moaned, his fingers tightening on her waist.

Feminine power rushed through her, made her light-headed that she could make this strong man, this good man, the best she’d ever known, moan and tremble. He didn’t touch her like he had when they’d made love before. Gone was the careful, reverent lover. In his place was a man starving for her. Desperate. Needy.

He shoved her shirt up, did the same with her bra, freeing her breasts. His mouth on her was hot and wet as he sucked on her nipple, his tongue swirling, driving her mad, his beard scraping her skin, heightening her pleasure.

His passion, his need for her, inflamed her own and she squirmed, trying to get closer, trying to ease the ache in her core. Lifting his head, he slipped his hand between them, rubbed his thumb over her. She gasped.

“That’s it,” he murmured in his familiar voice. “I’m going to watch you come, Sadie. Come for me.”

She couldn’t tear her gaze from his, couldn’t ignore his commanding tone, the heat and pressure building inside of her until she thought she’d go mad if he didn’t stop. That she’d go mad if he did. He shifted slightly, tugged her underwear aside and slid his finger inside of her. She bucked against his hand, her orgasm spiraling through her.

He was watching her so she left herself open to him, let him see what he did to her. Let him see in her eyes what she truly felt for him.

Let him see what she was afraid to admit, even to herself.

* * *

J
AMES
HAD
NEVER
seen anything as beautiful as Sadie, her face flushed from her orgasm, her gaze holding his, pleasure darkening the blue of her eyes. He slid his hand from her, felt her heat on his fingers, smelled her sex, the scent making him even harder.

He wouldn’t push her, wanted this to be her choice. He wanted...he needed...this to be her idea. What she truly wanted.

She leaned forward, her bare breasts brushing his chest. Somewhere in the back of his mind he heard the dog whine, didn’t even bother glancing over to see what had happened to Elvis. How could he think of anything when Sadie was kissing him, her soft hands cupping his face?

Her tongue flicked over his lips and he opened his mouth for her; when her hands went to his jeans, he lifted his hips so she could unbutton them, slide the zipper down. She straightened and took off her panties while he shoved his pants and underwear to his knees. He grabbed a condom from his pocket and sheathed himself.

Holding his gaze, she settled on him, her eyes shutting on a soft groan as she took him into her body. His heart stopped. She took his breath. She’d stolen his heart years ago and he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that no matter what happened between them, he’d never get it back.

He’d never love anyone the way he loved her.

But he had to keep his words, his feelings, to himself so he didn’t scare her off again. So he didn’t push too hard, too fast and send her running.

Her back bowed and she kept her hands on his shoulders as she moved, taking him higher and higher. He gripped her waist, his fingers digging into her skin, his breathing growing ragged. Sweat coated their skin, her bare breasts swayed with her movements, the delicate skin pink from his beard.

She was so tight and hot and wet, and he slid into her deeper. Harder. Faster. She moaned, one long pull that seemed to wrap around him, pushed him into sliding to the edge of the chair and quickening the pace. She braced her feet on the back of the chair, taking him in to the hilt.

It wasn’t enough, not nearly enough. He stood, lifting her easily. Her eyes widened, her grip on his shoulder tightened.

“Wrap your legs around me,” he ordered roughly, walking the two steps to the desk.

As she did as he commanded, he swept a hand over the desk, clearing enough room to set her ass down on the edge. He stood, pumping into her, her ankles digging into his lower back, her weight resting on her elbows, her head thrown back.

She tightened around him, her body growing even hotter. She shuddered as she came, her body milking his until he went over the edge and emptied himself, giving her everything he had, everything he was.

As always, loving her more than was wise.

* * *

“I
THINK
WE
’
VE
traumatized the dog,” he muttered later—it could have been five minutes or five hours. Who knew? He was boneless and weightless, his muscles relaxed.

Sadie glanced over at Elvis, who was lying in the corner, facing away from them. She laughed. “Poor baby. Guess his previous owners did these things behind closed doors.”

James forced himself to straighten, then, because he wanted to hold on to her, quickly dropped his hands after helping her to her feet. “I’m pretty sure it’s the first time it’s been done behind this particular door.”

“I doubt that. I’ve seen your parents. They still act like newlyweds. Remember that one time we walked in on them making out in the kitchen? Your dad had his hand on your mom’s—”

“I’ve spent all these years trying to forget,” James muttered, pulling his pants up as she readjusted her clothes.

“I’m just saying they’ve probably already broken this room in. So to speak.”

He went cold all over, stared horrified at the desk, the chair. “I may never have sex again.”

“Now that would be a real shame,” she said with a small, shy smile.

She was adorably mussed, her hair a tangled, golden mass around her face, her cheeks flushed, her shirt wrinkled. His heart ached with longing. He wanted to ask her to come home with him, to spend the night in his bed. He wanted to make love to her again. And again.

Most of all, he wanted to make her his. Forever.

Keeping his words inside, his feelings to himself, he turned his back on her then crouched and scooped up a pile of papers from the floor, chagrined to realize his hands were unsteady. He felt her watching him, her gaze boring a hole into the back of his head, trying to dig into his thoughts. Trying to figure out where they stood now.

He wished he knew.

Holding his breath, he kept focused on his task, exhaling only when he heard her footsteps retreat into the kitchen. He shut his eyes, hung his head. By the time she returned, a roll of paper towels in her hand, he was in control again. In control of his body and, more importantly, of his emotions.

“Sorry about the mess,” he said, setting the papers on the desk.

“That’s okay.” She wiped the tea from the filing cabinet then tossed the soggy towels into the trash before ripping several more from the roll and using them to sweep up the chunks of broken mug. Elvis, finally over the trauma, crossed over to sniff at the floor by Sadie’s feet. “I’m sorry I used your cup.”

James’s face warmed. He scratched his chin. “That may have been a little overkill.”

“You think?” She straightened. “I’ve never seen you that angry. I didn’t think you could
get
that angry.”

“Right. Because I’m usually such a Boy Scout.”

“Nothing wrong with being a Scout.”

“Maybe not, but being a good guy hasn’t exactly gotten me anywhere. I thought I’d try something different.”