Dangerous Flirt(Laytons Book 2)(32)

“Need help?”

A childish part of her wanted to say no, but who was she trying to fool? She needed Hank for more than just the zipper. “Yes, thank you.”

Beth turned her back to give him access to the trouble spot. Goose bumps prickled her skin when his hands touched the small of her back, his thumb resting against the curve of her ass. Unable to stop herself, she shivered.

He didn't say a word.

She couldn't, even if she were able to form a single thought at the moment.

Instead, she closed her eyes when he tried to pull the stubborn zipper higher, only to have the smooth material of her dress slide up her bare thighs.

He cleared his throat. “Um…looks like I…uh…need to pull it down first.”

She peeked at his reflection in the mirror. He concentrated on the zipper as if the fate of the world were at stake. His hands shook as he lowered the zipper to the middle of her back and hesitated, staring at the expanse of skin on display, before sliding it ever so slowly upward. When he reached the top, he took a step back, flexing his hand as if it had been stung. His gaze met hers in the mirror and neither moved.

Possibilities hung heavy in the electrified air, constricting her chest and scaring her down to her hot-pink toenails. Hank looked at her as if she could be the best thing to ever happen to him. Like she was perfect. Like he loved her.

“Beth.” He whispered her name, his tone a combination of plea and promise.

Staring at the reflection of his hazel eyes in the mirror and seeing the hope they held sent reality crashing down on her.

Amanda had twisted him into knots promising they'd start a family, after they bought the boat or the house or the dream vacation. But she'd always changed her mind. He'd confessed to Claire that not having a family wasn't the only reason for the divorce, but it was a big one.

She loved him too much to put him through that again.

The realization hit her like a slap to the face. How she'd called love lust for so long, she had no idea. She loved him. Always had. Her throat tightened with regret for all the things lost before they were realized.

If they ever got serious, she'd have to tell him she couldn't have kids, make him choose between her and family. Family meant everything to both of them and she was destined not to have one—at least not one of her own blood. She wouldn't force that fate on him when she knew just how much his family line meant to him. Blinking away the tears flooding her eyes, she swallowed past the lump in her throat.

Doing the right thing hurt like a bitch.

“Thanks for your help.” She smiled weakly at his reflection. “We'd better get a move on.”

Confusion and hurt flashed across his face before he squared his jaw and nodded at her. “Yeah, of course. I'll wait for you in the lobby.”

Without pausing for a response, he spun on his heel and strode out the door. A second later the hotel room door clicked shut.

Beth sank down on the edge of the tub. Shaking like a loose roof shingle in a tornado, she gasped for breath as her heart exploded into a million sharp, jagged pieces.



Fifteen minutes later, Beth had to fight the urge to sneak back into the elevator when she saw Hank standing alone by the hotel's rotating front door. Her body ached like she had the twenty-four hour flu and she had the nausea to go with it. Nothing like realizing you loved the wrong man to make you wish you could curl up into a ball and never get out of bed.

A woman tugging a screaming toddler stopped next to her at the elevator bank. The bawling child's misery drew Hank's attention her way. The ice in his gaze did nothing to melt the heat flooding her body at the mere sight of him. Sighing, she trudged toward him. This was the path she'd chosen, she'd just have to push her way through it. Maybe in a few days, it wouldn't hurt so much.

Hell, she might as well admit it would more likely be decades before that happened.

The Nebraska football fight song blaring out of his jeans pocket saved her from having to make small talk. Without acknowledging her, he pushed his way through the rotating door, obviously assuming, correctly as it turned out, that she'd follow.

Back ramrod straight, he stood perfectly still and didn't even make a flicker of a movement toward his phone when it started ringing again. For as long as she'd known him, he'd been unable to let a phone ring. The Layton family curiosity would drive him to pick it up, but not this time. The vein near his temple bulged as he ground his teeth throughout the thirty-second jingle. If he kept this up, he wasn't going to have any molars left. Pissed off didn't begin to describe him.

As for her, she felt like shit. It had taken ten minutes of deep breathing and pacing before she could get her emotions under control. Now they were waiting in the taxi line and her gut twisted with anxiety. She yearned to say something to make him feel better, let him know that it wasn't him, but before she could open her mouth, the fight song went off in his pants again.