No, there wasn’t any need. God knew she didn’t want her brother poking his nose in her business. Especially considering the third degree he’d given her upstairs. Protective older brother mode was not helpful.
That was all beside the point. “There’s nothing going on between us.”
“Sure, Jude. And nothing’s the reason there were tears in your eyes just before. “
So he’d seen her vulnerability. Crap. “I wasn’t crying.”
“We can’t keep doing this, darling.” His voice softened. “You know that, right?”
Damn. Of course he was right. They had to deal with this. Sort it out because she couldn’t afford to lose it again like she had in front of Joseph.
She swallowed. “Okay. As long as we don’t do it in the lobby.”
The double meaning of the words were not lost on her, though thank God, he only said, “There’s a bar round the corner. Let’s grab a drink.”
Ten minutes later, at a quiet table in the back of the bar, Judith nursed the glass of red wine Caleb had ordered for her, while he sat opposite, leaning against the back of the booth, arms folded across his chest, watching her.
“So,” he said. “Are you going to tell me why you were crying just now?”
“I wasn’t crying. I just…teared up.”
“Judith.”
She looked down at her wine. The ache inside her pulled tight but the words wouldn’t come. It felt too risky, as if she was revealing too much. Making herself too vulnerable.
An awkward silence fell.
Then Caleb said softly, “You know what I’ve been doing the past couple of days? Thinking about you.”
A small shock went through her. “Me?”
“Yes, you. In fact you’re all I’ve been able to think about all damn week.”
She lifted her head from her wine study and stared at him. “Why?”
“Why do you think? Making love to you in your studio was just about the best sex I’ve had since…well, since eight years ago.”
The words took a couple of seconds to sink in. She couldn’t stop staring at him. “W-what?”
He leaned forward suddenly and the hunger in his gaze held her pinned to the spot. “I think you heard me. It was good. So damn good. Tell me you felt it, too.”
Her mouth opened. Shut. And she knew she must look like a landed fish gasping uselessly for air but she couldn’t seem to pull herself together. “I…Caleb…”
“You felt it, didn’t you? It was special, wasn’t it?”
There were a number of different things she could say here. A thousand different reasons to give him. They would all be excuses, ways to protect herself. Because her instinct had always been to protect herself, ever since her mother had left her, walking out without an explanation. Without a good-bye. Just gone and had never returned. The loss had made it difficult for her to trust, and Caleb’s betrayal when she’d been eighteen had compounded it. Being vulnerable to other people was just something she found very difficult and it was hard to open up again. Especially to someone who’d already hurt her once before.
Yet Caleb had given her something. Revealed something of himself. And to keep offering him excuses was not only petty but childish to boot.
Judith clutched her wine glass and took a small sip for courage. “Yes.” Her voice had gone all hoarse. “Of course it was special.”
There was a pause, his gaze fixed on her. “So why were you crying?”
She swallowed. “Because seeing you hurt. I just…don’t know what to do. I’ve been telling myself for the last few days that us together is impossible. That I can’t do it, can’t get past that reputation of yours. That I can’t trust you again. And then I saw you in Joe’s office and I…” Her throat tightened. “I wanted you so much.”
“Jude…”
“I’m afraid, Cal. I don’t want to be hurt like that again.”
He moved, reaching across the table, warm fingers closing around hers where they rested on the base of her wine glass. “You remember what I said in the studio? That I promised not to hurt you?”
“I remember.”
“And what if I also promised that I’d be around? That I’d stay in Auckland permanently? That it wouldn’t just be a few weekends here and there?”
Fear was a hard knot inside her chest yet she had to start somewhere. She couldn’t keep holding the past over Caleb’s head or blaming him for the lifestyle he’d led. Or making him responsible for the behavior of the press. He was right, he couldn’t change that.
It was up to her to take the next step, to learn to trust him again.