Chapter Sixteen
Garrett always wrote when he was frustrated or when he was suffering. And as much as he hated to admit it, Kendra Davis was making him suffer – much more so than if she had simply bitch slapped him. But then again, it wasn’t all about him, was it? And whatever had happened at the table, whatever had started out as a simple discussion about why he wrote romance, had turned inward to a place that Kendra was clearly not willing to share, a place that clearly caused her pain.
Outside, he could still hear the shuffling and mumbling of the press, now spurred on by the scent of a hot story about Tess Delaney’s stalker. Christ, he wished he knew how word had gotten out. Even more, he wished he knew if there was any truth to it or if the email from Razor Sharp was just a prank. He’d certainly been happy to believe that, until Kendra came into the picture. He couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to her because of him. Perhaps he should just come clean, just confront the press while she was still in the bathtub and tell them that he was the real Tess Delaney and Kendra only worked for him. He could be finished and the whole thing over with before she even finished her bath.
And he’d do it in a heartbeat if he could only be certain that it really would be over, that Kendra could walk away clear and clean and safe. OK, he had to admit he didn’t like the idea of her walking away from him. But that didn’t matter as long as she was safe.
He kept writing. Battling with the problems of Jessie and Amanda, who were now huddled together under a blanket in the boathouse, kept his mind off his own problems, off sharing the tight confines of his house with a woman he could barely keep his hands off of. Writing had always been Garrett’s way of dealing with his emotions, and at the moment if he didn’t write, he feared he’d shove his way into the bathroom, drag Kendra out, and make her finish what she started. She ran away, damn her! She ran away, and he wasn’t finished with her. How could he let her walk away believing romance wasn’t for her, believing love wasn’t for her? If it was ever for anyone, it was for her. How could she not see that? He wanted to prove it to her, he wanted her to feel it, experience it for herself, understand how much it mattered. And yes, if he were honest, he wanted to be the one to take her there.
He found his balance in front of his laptop, and even he had to admit the story seemed to be flowing much better since Kendra had arrived, since he knew she was in the very next room. And now, strangely, the Amanda in his head looked like Kendra and Jessie, well, clearly that was him. And when Jessie wrestled Amanda down onto the floor of the boathouse, when he positioned himself and pushed into her, and when she wrapped her legs around him and met him thrust for thrust, Garrett knew that it was really himself with Kendra he was writing. As the scene unfolded it felt as though there was some nearly mystical connection between the woman lounging in his bathtub and the creative process going on in his head, a process that suddenly seemed to be going on in his body in equal measure.
Jesus, why did he torture himself this way? And even as the story flowed, even as it gained momentum and power that it hadn’t had since he began it, it was no less torture. He didn’t really want to lock himself in his bedroom and rub one out. What he wanted was Kendra, but he wanted more than just to be inside her body again, and he wanted to give her more than just sex.
He heard the bathroom door open and felt his shoulders tense and his pulse accelerate, knowing that she was so close. But then he heard the door to the guestroom close, and there was silence. Was she still thinking and planning? Was she sleeping? Or was she simply trying to avoid him?
Kendra slipped into Garrett’s robe, the one she had worn – was it just this morning? It seemed a long time ago. It smelled like Garrett, and the scent of him caused little tremors low in her belly. How could she have gotten so used to his smell, almost addicted to it, in such a short time? She jerked the sash tight around her waist and slipped out of the bathroom. In the hall, she could still hear the press outside. Now that Barker Blessing and the web reporter had given them the scent of fresh blood, they weren’t going anywhere until there was a new and better story to pry them away. Just down the hall, she could hear the tap-tapping of Garrett’s laptop, and she resisted the urge to see if he was in Tess Delaney mode, to watch Tess at work. No doubt that would only muddy the waters further, and they were already muddy enough.
Instead, she moved quietly down the hall to the guestroom. She had some work to do and some research of her own. But even if she didn’t, she still needed a bit of space before she faced Garrett again. She needed time for him to forget about their ill-fated conversation, time for her to feel a little less exposed. And even though a huge part of her wanted to linger, wanted to be close to him, she went into the guest room and closed the door behind her.