She smothered a laugh.
“Playmates, huh? I’d say we excelled at taking naps.
When we got up from our naps, we were lousy together.”
Stephen shoved both hands out and shook his head. “No nap. No, no, no.”
Gavin tousled the boy’s hair and grinned. “No nap for you, buddy. Not yet.”
The toddler went back to his blocks. Gavin’s voice lowered. “You’re wrong.
We focused too much on napping and never gave social play dates a shot.
My fault. I screwed up.”
Tension sizzled in the air, and Miranda raised her chin. Every time her heart softened, she reminded herself he’d do anything to reach his goal. Business was business.
If she allowed herself to be vulnerable, she’d give him the opportunity to hurt her again.
This time she may never recover.
“You talk a good game, Gavin, but in two months you’re back out the door.
What’s in it for me? I’m not looking for a short-term fling. I’m looking to settle down. Get married. Share a life.” She grinned. “Scare ya yet?”
“Nope. Bring it.”
“And what will your excuse be this time? A bigger contract? Another account only you can close? When does it end? I’m done being left behind.”
“Come with me.”
A clatter of blocks banged together and saved her from answering.
Gavin dumped out the rest of the bucket and Stephen dove in. She kept her attention on the toddler and hated the sudden racing of her heart.
“What do you think?”
She sneered and hoped she looked intimidating. “I think you need to nap, bad. Isn’t that when men promise the world?”
A laugh escaped his lips.
“God, you’re stubborn.” He put up a hand when she began to protest. “Wait.
How about I offer a truce?”
He ignored her disbelieving snort and continued. “I won’t make any moves on you. No touching, no flirting, no bringing up the past. I’ll be the perfect gentlemen this evening.”
“What’s the catch?”
His lips twisted. “If I promise not to nap with you on Andy’s carpet, you give me a fair chance. No looking for hidden motives.
No insults or defenses.
Have an open mind tonight. Deal?”
Suspicion laced her tone.
“All you want to do is talk?”
“Talking is a first good step. At least you won’t pounce on my every comment.”
“I don’t pounce. You just keep making arrogant remarks.”
“See, you broke the deal. That’s considered an insult.” He pointed an accusatory finger.
She fought the sudden urge to laugh. Was she crazy to accept his offer? She should throw him out and forget he came back into her life. Still, her curiosity burned with the need to be completely satisfied.
The offer was safe. Her body always got her in trouble. Tonight, he’d only deal with her mind, and there’d be no way to slip through her defenses.
Maybe after tonight she’d be free of him.
“Deal.”
Stephen gurgled and smashed the perfect tower.
Brightly colored blocks flew in different directions and he screamed with glee.
Her ex-lover looked disappointed. “Darn, that was a good one. Is he usually this rambunctious?”
Miranda slid off the couch. “He’ll be up another hour or so. He usually passes out by eight and sleeps all night.”
Gavin scooped up the rest of the blocks. “Okay, buddy, let’s see if we can make Trump Towers and sell them before the market crashes.”
Stephen screeched in agreement.
… Four hours later, Miranda collapsed on the carpet next to Gavin. A groan of pain escaped his lips. “I think I’m going to die.”
“No, you only feel that way because your head is pounding and your legs hurt from racing around the room. Wait till the aspirin kicks in.” Miranda tried to pull herself back up the couch but only managed to move an inch.
One glance at her babysitting partner told her he had the same problem.
They both lay stretched out on their backs and gazed up at the ceiling.
“You lied. You told me he sleeps all night and isn’t any trouble.”
“It’s your fault. You got him excited about those blocks and he couldn’t fall asleep.”
Gavin groaned. “How am I going to explain the crayon marks on the wall? I swear I took my eyes off him for a second.”
“They’re washable.” The image of the successful, smooth tycoon chasing a toddler flashed before her.
A giggle burst from her lips.
“What?”
“You may be able to close a million-dollar deal, but I never saw such a look of fear when Stephen told you he did poop.”
“I think you broke our truce. That was definitely an insult.”
“Just an observation.”
“If I had any strength left I’d kiss you so we’d be even. Did anyone ever tell you how beautiful you look with your hair spread out on the carpet?”
“You’re delusional.”
A comfortable silence settled between them. “I thought Andy had two kids.”
“His daughter is at a slumber party tonight.
She’s at that stage where she thinks she’s too cool for a babysitter.”
“Have Andy and Elaine been married long?”
She turned her head to the right and caught a glimpse of his profile. The thought of his mouth sliding, wet and hot, over hers caused a shiver to race down her spine.
Damn, she was exhausted.
Time to get her mind out of the gutter. “About ten years. I guess Andy was working at another paper and interviewed Elaine for an article on fitness. She managed a health club. He was too shy to ask her out so he ended up writing a different column on her every day for two weeks.
His editor finally dragged him in and made him ask her out. They were married a year later.”
Gavin rolled to the side.
Propping his head on the side of her head, he studied her in thoughtful silence. Her heart stopped, then burst into rapid staccato. He reached out and ran one finger down her cheek, then drew back as if he remembered his promise.
“It was their karma.”
She swallowed. As if his words weaved a spell, she waited for his mouth to take hers.
His quick, indrawn breath cut through the air as he recognized her surrender, and the silence pulsed with electricity. He half closed his eyes. The delicious scents of lemon and spice swarmed her. He leaned in, and she let out a sigh of release. She wouldn’t have to make a choice, because he’d make one for her.
He moved away with a low mutter. “Would Andy mind if I made a fire?” he asked.
She blinked. The air cooled without his body heat near. “No, go ahead.
The room’s a bit chilly.”
She remained silent as he made the fire, and when the quick snap of wood caught flame echoed in the air, she remembered how many times they made love in front of Gavin’s fireplace while they listened to the opera.
“You’re thinking about it, too.”
Miranda closed her eyes and tried to will away the memory. “I don’t want to think about the past.”
“I know.” He settled back on the carpet and stretched jean-clad legs in front of him. “I remember the first night I took you to the Met. You’d never seen the opera before, and I warned you most people found the music boring.
You insisted you’d love it.”
A reluctant laugh escaped her lips. “My grandmother loved the movie Moonstruck.
We used to watch it together.
Cher wore a beautiful red dress to the Metropolitan, and when Nicholas Cage took one look at her, I knew he fell madly in love.
After that, I longed to see an opera.”
“Hmm, at least you didn’t admire Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction . If my memory is correct, she shared her love for Madame Butterfly with her lover. Then she tried to kill the poor guy.”
She sniffed.
“You’re making fun of me.”
Gavin chuckled. “I never saw the movie, but you beat Cher out. You wore green, the exact color of your eyes. The dress had that hood wrap thing, and when you loosened the cloth, all I could see was fiery red curls spilling around your face.”
She caught her breath at the vivid description. “You remember detail well.”
“I remember you.” He paused.
“We saw La Traviata. You gripped my hand so hard I thought I’d be crippled by the finale.”
“I didn’t want her to die.”
He nodded. “During the last scene, you cried. Of course, you used to cry over everything. Songs on the radio.
Television commercials. Those awful Lifetime movies you always watched. You didn’t budge from the chair at the end, and insisted the composer made a terrible mistake.”
“I was a bit emotional. I hoped for a happier ending.”
“Operas never have happy endings. That’s why people always remember them.”
She retreated from the brief flash of pain. “Yes.”
Silence fell over the room.
The steady tick of the clock on the mantle mingled with the snap of wood. Shadows danced against the wall. She heard her name whispered from far away. Too tired to fight the raging swirl of emotions, sleep dragged her down and claimed her, and she welcomed it, knowing it would stop the endless array of emotions slowly torturing her.
The words raked across her ears in a caress and melted into the misty fringes of sleep.
“It was never just sex. I loved you.”
… Gavin stared into the dancing flames and whispered the words to the woman beside him. “It was never just sex. I loved you.” He gave a soft laugh.
“I convinced myself it was only an affair, but every time I held you in my arms, I felt whole. No other woman has been able to make me feel complete. I don’t think any other woman ever will.”
He waited for her response, but only the sounds of snapping logs broke the silence.
He dragged in a lungful of air and decided to turn around. Maybe if he looked into her eyes when he said the words, she’d finally believe him. Maybe he’s see a gleam of surrender and know there was a chance. Maybe— He gazed into her face.
She was asleep.
He blinked. No fucking way. His big confession caused the woman to fall into slumber.
Gavin half groaned at the irony. Why was he surprised? Even sleeping, the woman drove him crazy. He ran a finger down her cheek. Warm, satiny skin.
Her strawberries and cream scent drifted around him and caused an instant erection. He shifted as the primitive need to plunge between her thighs took fierce hold.
God, he wanted her. Wanted to taste every inch of her skin, bring those animal sounds of pleasure to her lips, and bury himself deep inside her tight, clinging heat.
He’d never been able to keep his hands off her.
He’d never had a problem controlling his lust before, or even the basic need to hear her voice and touch her. But nothing could happen until he regained one basic block of foundation.
Trust.
He needed to get his lady to trust him again, and that required keeping his hands off her. At least, for a while.
Two weeks.
Maybe one.
Ah, hell, he’d barely last another twenty-four hours.
