Dirty Little Secret(43)

Cailin’s senses were drunk on Alex; there was no need to visit one of the many bars that waited at the end of the tour. Instead a rushed good-bye and “thank you so much” for their guide, and they were hurrying back to the hotel, anxious for each other and nothing else. No one else. Just the two of them, lost in a world of their own making. Lost in the hunger they had for each other, a hunger the “real world” would have them deny.

* * * *

Sunday morning, the sun brought reality home to Cailin. She woke, safe and warm, the heavy weight of Alex’s arm and leg thrown over her body. She snuggled against him, the feel of his crisp chest hair abrading her back evoking a tenderness she’d never experienced before. Evoking something else she wanted to deny but couldn’t: love.

She loved him. The thought struck like lightning there in the quiet of a perfect, peaceful new day. It stunned her. It overwhelmed her. And as amazing as it was, as quick as it had been, it just felt right.

In the short two months since they’d first met, she knew Alex better—his body, his emotions, the way his mind worked—than she’d ever known her ex-husband. Tears pooled. Though she’d tried, there had been nothing she could do to save her marriage. You couldn’t know someone who didn’t want you to know them, or to know you. Alex shared himself wholeheartedly, both in bed and out. He healed her; loving him healed her. She felt whole. Happy.

Hungry.

But reality hit when she sat up. The first thing she saw turned out to be her suitcase, waiting on the luggage rack. Today she would fill it, pack up the clothes and memories and happiness, and head back to Atlanta, where Alex didn’t belong to her but to Sara Beth. Where their relationship hid in the shadows and every kiss, every touch was furtive. Alex had told her that living with the secret would be hard; she hadn’t understood exactly how hard it would be until now, until she’d tasted the freedom of living without it and realized how she truly felt about him.

It was the love she now recognized that would help her do whatever it took to stay with him, secrets or not. Amid that alphabet of sins, she had to have some good traits, right? Well, strength was one of them. Determination. They would make it. They’d figure out something.

“We will, I promise.” Alex’s breath hit her shoulder a moment before his lips.

“Will what?”

“Figure something out.”

“Oh.” She hadn’t realized she’d spoken aloud. “I guess…”

Alex rubbed his chin lightly along her shoulder. “I know Sara Beth and I didn’t exactly think this thing through, but that doesn’t mean we can’t figure it out.” Tugging her around, he looked solemnly into her eyes. “I want to be with you, Cailin. Only you. Just be patient, please.”

Cailin nodded, but already the heaviness had settled over her. The next few months, possibly years, would be hard. She just prayed she had the strength and determination she thought she did.





Chapter Eleven

Alex rushed into the office early Monday morning, anxious to see Cailin after their night apart, only to be brought up short at the sight that greeted him.

“About time you showed up,” John Keane stated sourly as he stood at the window opposite Cailin’s desk, the backlight giving his military-cut white hair a totally inappropriate halo. One glance showed Cailin pale and trembling. Shit. John had obviously been his usual charming self, and there was no way to comfort her. John would notice. The man didn’t miss anything.

“John, what are you doing in Atlanta?”

“Working, unlike you. Heard you took the weekend off. What the hell were you thinking, gallivanting off for the weekend with the consortium less than four weeks away? If you weren’t my son-in-law, I’d fire your ass.”

Alex forced himself not to do anything disrespectful like roll his eyes. Instead he ushered the older man into his office, returning to give Cailin a frantic request to call Sara Beth in and a look of sympathy that was far too short before returning to contain the problem as best he could.

“So where were you?” John asked.

Alex bit his tongue, forcing himself to silence.

“Hmm.” John’s gaze could level entire armies, but Alex stood firm against it. Then, “It’s not a woman, is it?”

“God, John. Sara Beth is your daughter. I love her.”

John harrumphed again, his expression skeptical. “And you’ve had her far more than the six months you’ve been married. A man has needs; I know. I am one. But you’ve never disappointed me, Alex. Don’t start now, especially not over a hot piece of ass.”

Choking on the need to strangle his father-in-law, Alex counted slowly to ten; then, when he could get the words out without the urge to kill being obvious, he said, “John, you’re going to keep talking, and we’re going to have words. You’ve been like a father to me”— a really bad one—“so for both our sakes, shut up.”