The Bachelor Contract(33)

The music shifted from classical to “Close” by Nick Jonas. Great, Cole, good choice.

She was dizzy, overwhelmed, hot.

“He’s watching you,” Cole whispered. “He’s angry.”

She snorted. “He’s always angry. It’s kind of his thing.”

“Not the type of angry where he wants to fire me. If I didn’t know any better I’d say he’s jealous.”

“Impossible.” She ignored the little spring of hope that threatened to burst through her chest.

“Very possible.” Cole sighed and spun her around. The heat from his chest pressed against her breasts, and it felt all wrong. Because it was Cole, and she was lying to herself when she thought it would be possible—especially after Brant’s kisses—to feel anything for anyone but him, even if his horrible personality came right along with that body.

So did his past.

So did the memories.

And her treacherous brain kept trying to remind her why they’d been so perfect before, why they’d laughed so much, why it had been everything.

Until they lost all of it.

“I should go…” She pulled out of Cole’s embrace.

Cole grabbed her by the arm. “Wait.”

And then he left her.





Chapter Fourteen



Does the damsel need rescuing?” came Brant’s rough voice.

She licked her lips, imagined his mouth, then mentally slapped herself for being so weak. He brought nothing but pain, and no matter how good it felt to touch him, he was still the same Brant who’d abandoned her, who’d refused to fight. He had no right trying to rescue anyone when he couldn’t even rescue himself.

White-hot anger surged through her. Yes. That was what she needed, to remember how much he’d destroyed her.

She hated him. Right?

Right. She nodded, like an idiot.

“Was that a yes?”

“Why are you offering?” she countered. “I wasn’t aware I looked like I needed saving.”

“You looked”—his hands wrapped around her waist—“lost.”

Too close to the truth, so close she almost tripped over her feet and slammed against his chest—which would have been bad, since his body had a way of forcing her to forget all the reasons why he was a horrible human being.

Hell, he was about to find out really soon who she was if he kept plowing her through people and objects that she couldn’t see! Why? Why not just this once? Could she be that girl again, the innocent girl getting swept off her feet by one of the most attractive men she’d ever seen? If she closed her eyes she could still see the arrogant smile he’d worn right along with his stunned expression when his pick-up lines hadn’t worked.

Brant stopped and twirled her once, then began dancing with her. “One dance.”

One dance.

She knew it wouldn’t be just one dance, not with Brant. Brant was never satisfied with one of anything.

“But—”

“You know,” he interrupted, his lips caressing her ear as they moved back and forth. “My ego’s taken a bit of a hit, since you seem to want to run in the opposite direction. The least you can do is dance to one song.”

She swallowed past the swelling in her throat; the need to sob against his shoulder and ask him why he left warred with the desire to slap his perfect face and scream at him for abandoning her.

“One song,” she finally said, surprising herself as she closed her eyes and allowed her body to sway to the music. Maybe if she closed her eyes tight enough, she could imagine this was a normal work party, she was still his wife, he was still her doting husband.

She could still see. She still had a baby. Maybe two by then.

Her stomach clenched as her heart flipped so painfully that she let out a rough exhale. And then the damn man started to hum.

Every cell in her body went on high alert as her skin prickled with awareness. Every inch of him was perfect, from his just-shaved chin as it brushed against her neck, to the way his hands embraced hers with such intensity that if she were any other woman she’d think he was swearing never to let go.

Tears filled her eyes.

Please don’t let go. Not again.

Life was cruel—fine, take her sight, take her baby, take her soul mate, but don’t tease her with what it felt like to have everything feel so right again, so perfect, only to have it ripped from her fingertips. The magic of the moment was going to shatter; she waited for the inevitable, for him to realize who he was dancing with. She braced herself for a fight when the smooth-talking guy would go from Jekyll to Hyde.

The last time she’d danced had been at her wedding. With her cheap store-bought dress and the simple white daisies that decorated each table. They served homemade cupcakes.