The Bachelor Contract(63)
“You’re…something.” She grinned and then held open her right hand. “Okay, champagne.”
“Ah, so now she’s excited.”
“Aw, was I not excited enough when we were talking about you feeling me up?”
“I’d prefer you throw a parade next time or at least jump into the air, but I’ll take whatever I can get.”
She laughed and then laughed harder before sobering. “I miss this.”
“Nope.” He cupped her face. “We aren’t going to do that, okay? Let’s just focus on the good, maybe if we do that…” God, he hoped he was right. “Maybe the bad won’t seem as bad if we remember the good.”
“Brant.” Her voice was sad. “Friends talk. We need to have that talk otherwise none of this is going to work.”
“I know,” he admitted. “Just…not yet.”
Tears filled her eyes. “Okay.”
Thank God. He wasn’t ready for it yet, ready for the talk that could send her out of his life for good. Because once they traveled that road, Pandora’s box would be ripped wide open—and what if she couldn’t move past it?
What if he couldn’t? What if all they had was now?
“Hey, Brant?”
Damn thing was impenetrable. He twisted the wire off and covered the cork with a towel. “Kinda busy saving the day here, Nik.”
“By opening a bottle?”
“I’m a man, it’s what we do. Well, it’s what I do. Son of a bitch, this thing won’t come off!”
“Brant.” She warned.
“Fine. Sorry.” The cork finally came loose. “You were saying?”
“It rained.”
He glanced behind him, more like a torrential downpour. “Yeah?”
“How can you tell me about the stars if you can’t see them?”
“The same way you recognize things without seeing them, I guess.” He wanted to touch her again, to kiss her. “I did it from memory, and when that failed, I just looked into your eyes.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
She was overwhelmed.
So overwhelmed.
He’d kissed her good night on the cheek and then walked her all the way across the street to her apartment, only to kiss her again, ask if she needed anything, and walk away.
Or she assumed he walked away. He could still be standing out in the front of her apartment building, and she’d have no idea.
Sometimes not seeing sucked.
She bit her lip, then smiled. But tonight? Tonight it didn’t suck, because Brant had told her about the stars, because his voice had been like coming home. They’d teased. They’d laughed.
No yelling. No breaking things. Just the Brant she remembered.
Moisture burned in her eyes before she wiped the angry tears away. In theory, she understood what he was doing, but it was still confusing as hell. Did he really want her? Or was he doing this out of guilt? And what happened when, at the end of everything, she fell for him all over again only to have him walk away again—or worse, decide that she wasn’t worth it.
She shook the thought away. She wanted to trust him. But trust had to be earned.
Look at her—one date in and she was already falling for him all over again. Who was she kidding? Even when he was angry she never really stopped wanting him, at least the old him, the one she knew was trapped in an angry prison of their own making.
Brant Wellington, player, millionaire, sex god—ex-husband—was wooing her. She’d have to be an idiot to turn him down—even though she had a sinking feeling it wasn’t going to end well. How could it? With so much damage still done? So many things left unsaid between them, and then tonight when she’d mentioned talking he’d said, Later.
Putting it off wasn’t going to make it any less painful. So she’d agreed. What other choice did she have? When faced with the one man she still ached for?
Nikki went through the motions of getting ready for bed only to blink up at the swirls of grays and blacks above her. Thinking of his hands. And the way they felt against her skin.
She shivered and then imagined she was in his bed; he was holding her and promising to never let go. Focus on the good, he’d said. The before, the after, not the in between that had destroyed them.
* * *
Nikki was woken up by what sounded like knocking. What time was it? Where the hell was she?
The pounding came again, only this time it sounded like urgent knocking. Softness surrounded her.
Bed…she was in bed. Oh God, she hadn’t set her alarm last night.
More knocking. She shot out of bed.
“Crap!” Her knee hit her nightstand as she bolted away from the mattress and made a mad dash to the door. “I’m late. I’m sorry!”