Chapter 34

Thirty-Four

TOM

Her hair smelled freshly washedand citrusy, but the intrusion of her scent in my home left a sour taste in my mouth. She caught me completely off guard. I was annoyed, pissed even, Tiffany had showed up unannounced. She knew how particular I felt about visitors, especially women I’d been intimate with. Holding onto the doorknob, I remained like a statue on my front door. I wasn’t certain I wanted to close it. Wasn’t sure I should be under the same roof with this woman.

“I could never get tired of this view, Tom,” she said as she strolled through my foyer, passing the kitchen and walking into the living room. She entered with an air of familiarity, as if she felt she belonged in my house.

With a sigh of resignation, I closed the door and followed behind her.

She laid her purse down on the brown leather couch and stood in the middle of the room. She turned from the ocean views and plastered her wistful gaze on me, eyeing my naked chest with a suggestive smile, pleading with me for a reciprocal response. My spine tightened, the voracious look in her eyes sent me off kilter.

Although we had grown accustomed to volleying flirtatious innuendos, always smiling at secret jokes and even entertaining playful—and perhaps at times inappropriate—touching, it had been a very long time since we’d flirted with true intention, and even longer since we’d acted on impulse. The intensity of her penetrating gaze made me struggle to make eye contact, and with sweat beading down my back, I yearned for a second shower.

She’d suited up in full sensual armor. The flames in her hair were combed into curvy waves, and her white porcelain-like skin glowed against the bold contrast of her turquoise dress. Harder to ignore were her braless breasts jiggling to their own tune as she walked. Luckily for me, I’d mastered the art of noticing without noticing. The old me might have felt my cock rise to the invitation just thinking about her large chest. Tonight, the only fevered blood running through my veins was the one rising to the surface of my face.

I crossed my arms. “I thought I was clear about giving everything work related to Jake.”

“Um, this isn’t about work,” she replied coyly.

I clenched my jaw and swallowed hard. “Then it could have waited ’til tomorrow.”

Her eyes widened with shock. If the brashness of my voice wasn’t enough to warn her of my irritation, the tension in my face and body made it crystal clear her visit wasn’t welcomed.

She frowned then looked away.

If it had nothing to do with work, I could only guess why she was here.

Jake.

Fucking dickhead.

His callous comments earlier in the day probably still percolated in her brain, especially since I’d told her numerous times when we were fucking I would never fall in love. She’d accepted it, resigned to the fact I was damaged goods, and that much to her dismay, she could never fix me.

Then Sara happened. Now, Tiffany wanted answers.

“Tiff,” I said, “coming here wasn’t a good idea.”

She turned, but as soon as we locked eyes, she began to cry.

Ah, fuck.

Thank you, Jake. Much appreciated, buddy.

I didn’t need this melodrama. Then again, I couldn’t ignore the fact it was my fault she was here. I’d screwed with her head and her heart. Even though I presumed we had ended our arrangement before she could get hurt, deep inside I’d known it was too late. She’d been head-over-heels for me, and I, well, I’d simply been a prick.

With a sigh, I dropped my arms and planted my hands on my waist. “Don’t do this.”

She turned to face the beach behind the glass doors. “Tom…why?” she finally asked.

Here we go.

She walked over to the balcony doors and stared out to the frothy ocean. “Why didn’t you ever ask me to stay here with you?”

I said nothing.

“The only time you even invited me here was after you bought the house and you had the team over to celebrate. That night, I sat on the balcony, imagining what it would be like to sit here with you at dusk, holding hands.” She turned to face me once more, but this time, when her eyes met mine, she dug into me, silently demanding an answer she knew she didn’t want to hear. When I said nothing, she continued her reproach. “I don’t understand. I did everything right. Everything you wanted. I only longed to make you happy, but it wasn’t enough.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say. You knew my rules.”

Her eyes narrowed over me, blazing with fury. “Fuck your rules, Tom. What about Sara, hmm? The rules don’t apply to her?”

I swallowed hard. Sara made me break all my rules, and I was still trying to figure out how. “Things are different now.”

Tiffany’s body shook, her hands clenched to her sides. “Different how? What does she have that I don’t?”

I didn’t know how to answer her. Falling in love hadn’t been in my plans. When I broke it off with Tiffany, she’d been cool about it. She’d pretended, at least. Knowing this type of outburst would simply push me further away from her, she’d accepted we were better off as friends—without the benefits. It was clear now that she’d bottled it all up.

I didn’t want to see her cry, so I grabbed her by the shoulders, pressed her to my chest, and hugged her. I cared for Tiffany. She was a great girl and an amazing friend. I should have never dragged her into my mess. I knew it was a mistake from the first night we spent together. Back then, she’d been hard to resist. Tiffany was a drop-dead gorgeous redhead with curves in all the right places. I’d lusted after her cream-colored skin from the moment she stepped into my office for an interview.

The first thing that caught my eyes as she strolled in was her blood-red, heart-shaped lips. She moistened them as she reached over my desk to shake my hand, a glint of satisfaction shone in her eyes as she watched my wide-eyed approval of her beauty. She must have been wearing a figure-hugging dress. I couldn’t even remember. Keeping my eyes focused on her face and away from her perfectly round and naturally large breasts was an arduous task, even for my experienced gaze.

As she’d sat down and crossed her long legs, her hands folded at her lap in a professional manner, waiting for her interview to start, I drew a blank. The last thing on my mind was offering her a job. My primitive instincts already had her undressed and bent over my desk. With my dick throbbing in my pants, concentrating on business was nearly impossible. After a few moments of awkward pleasantries, we got the interview underway. Needless to say, she got the job and became my personal assistant. Tiffany was very confident in her assets and she skillfully used them to her advantage that day.

Her resume was good too, of course.

A week later, she lay naked next to me in a hotel room. She was amazing when it came to fucking, and I indulged my hungry cock to the hilt. Yeah, it was unprofessional, but she didn’t hide her attraction to me and I certainly didn’t intend to ignore it. I wasn’t proud of my ways, but I wasn’t about to make apologies for them either. It was a mutual arrangement, and I’d specifically laid out my rules to her. I simply didn’t do the relationship thing. Then one night, after messing around, she told me she loved me.

It was a slip—so she said—but it was enough to knock some sense into me. I liked Tiffany. We worked well together, had fun when we hung out, and when we fucked, well, we fucked, but that was it. I looked into her green eyes that night, and I felt nothing. I didn’t love her, and it hurt me to know I would crush her heart. Other women, I couldn’t care less what they thought of me when I walked out of their lives. But Tiff?

I couldn’t do that to her. It was the reason I usually tried not to mix business with pleasure. Before Tiffany, I’d never fucked one of my employees. Especially since the women I usually messed with were in an out of my life fairly quickly. I’d gotten to know Tiffany very intimately, not just physically. As my personal assistant, she accompanied me everywhere, including my business trips. I became very familiar with her background, why she’d come to New York from Los Angeles, the money struggles with her family, and her burden with her drug-addicted brother.

If we continued on that path, it was only going to end in heartbreak for her, and she didn’t need any more pain. She agreed and said she’d rather preserve our friendship than end up resentful and hating me. She said she appreciated my honesty, but the gloom in her eyes told me that, despite my efforts to save her heart, I had already shattered it.

Holding her in my arms now, all I felt was guilt. I should have never let our relationship go beyond the office.

I guided her toward the couch and asked her to sit. My chest was wet from her tears. As she looked up at me, she wiped her eyes and sniffed.

“Tiff,” I said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, “what we had was fun while it lasted. I told you then and I’ll tell you now. I wasn’t ready to start a relationship. I couldn’t give you what you needed from me.”

She pinned me with sodden eyes. “And you are ready now?”

“Things are different now.”

“You keep saying that,” she snapped, pushing away. “But I don’t get it. What did I do wrong? I was ready to give you my heart, but you said you could never fall in love. Then Sara comes along and you offer her your home, the one place you said you’d never bring women? I’m confused. I guess it wasn’t that you could never fall in love. You just couldn’t fall in love with me. Is that it?”

“I didn’t plan this.”

“So, what now? You are finally ready to give someone your heart?”

I dropped my gaze, shamefully hoping what I was about to tell her wouldn’t wound her even deeper. “I already have.”

Her lips sucked in a small gasp of air. She held it a few seconds before she breathed again. I knew it wasn’t what she wanted to hear, but it was the truth and I couldn’t lie about it.

Not to Tiffany and not to anybody.

I pulled away and stood.

Eyes damp with tears, she gazed up at me.

“Look,” I said, “no matter what, we’ll always be friends. I was about to make dinner, if you want to join me?”

* * *

I worked on the skillet while Tiffany sat on a barstool watching me cook.

“It smells delicious,” she said, sniffing the air. “You were always such a great chef. I could have lit scented candles in my apartment, but I preferred the smell of garlic and herbs. It always lingered even after dinner and after, well, after you left me in my bed, happy as a kitten full on milk.”

I smiled, knowing she was trying to bait me. If she only knew the memory of us together in bed didn’t summon lewd thoughts of her. It only made me miss Sara. “Hope you’re hungry,” I said as I poured us each a full plate of linguini in clam sauce. Grilled scallops also made the menu for the evening.

“Tom, this looks amazing. Can’t wait to dig in.”

I nodded in the direction of the wine fridge below the kitchen counter as I took our dishes and walked toward the balcony. “Grab some wine and meet me outside.”

Tiffany jumped off the stool, picked up a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc and skipped out behind me.

As I finished my meal, I glanced at Tiffany’s plate.

“Well, I’m stuffed,” she said.

I motioned at her dinner, an eyebrow raised. “You barely ate.”

“I have a small stomach. You know that. It was delish, though. Love your cooking.” She ran her hands through her long red locks several times, cocking her head to the side and flashing me her perfect smile before bursting into an exaggerated laugh. It was the boisterous side of her she wasn’t shy to expose once she’d poured alcohol into her system.

I forced a tight grin and pressed two fingers to my temple. It could have been the wine giving her back some confidence, but I knew her too well, and I had a hard time buying it. I blew out a long breath and tried to avoid making eye contact. The woman shamelessly tried to flirt with me, and I had no patience for it. I was not interested in her advances, and she, more than anyone, should’ve remembered once I was done with something—or someone—there was no going back.

As I stood and gathered the dishes, she leaned forward on the table and rested her chest over her folded arms, practically pushing her breasts out of her low-cut dress. She blinked softly as she brought the glass of wine to her lips and took a shallow drink. “C’mon, we can clean up later,” she uttered in a raspy voice, winking and smiling at me.

I pretended I didn’t notice the desperate cleavage tactic, and completely ignored the hidden message behind her words. The trick might have worked in the past, but these days my cock hardened for another woman. Did she really think she’d get me to drop my pants simply because she showed me some skin? She could have taken off her dress and stood stark naked in front of me, it wouldn’t have mattered. I could control my cock—except when it came to Sara. That woman was a whole different ballgame.

Yawing and rubbing my hands together, I said, “It’s late. Let’s call it a night.”

She blinked quickly and looked away. “Oh…” She stood up, her gaze avoiding mine, and tried to walk back into the house, but stumbled as she knocked into the table.

I grabbed her by the arm to keep her from falling. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she shot back as she yanked her arm away. “I’ll see myself out.” She zigzagged through my living room, trying to make her way to the front door.

Fucking perfect.

I slid a palm down my face. I had a scorned, drunk-off-her-ass woman in my house—because I needed that shit. What was I supposed to do, let her drive back to the hotel when she couldn’t even walk straight? “Tiff, you’re not going anywhere.”

She perked up at the sound of my words and turned around, a gentle smile on her lips. Part of me wondered if this had been her plan all along. “You can sleep off the alcohol in my guest room upstairs.”

I shouldn’t have let her drink so much wine. And I probably should’ve just driven her home and taken a cab back.

* * *

After phoning Sara, I undressed and lay in my bed. A wide smile stretched across my lips. Wanting to surprise her, I didn’t tell her about my plan to come back home early. I couldn’t wait to see the look in her deep chocolate eyes when she saw me.

Unfortunately, having to wait until the following day to fly did mean I’d have to spend one more night sleeping in my bed alone.

Alone.

Shit, this means I might have an episode again.

A few months back, the nightmares started up once more, only showing up sporadically, but always with a vengeance. They had become more intense and vivid. The terror I felt in these dreams was agonizing, violently bolting me awake. Yet, I hadn’t experienced one since I met Sara.

That is until two nights ago when she left.

I closed my eyes and prayed for peace.

How long will the ghosts continue to haunt me?

How long will I have to carry the guilt?

I failed my team. My comrades. My friends. My brothers.

They were all dead now.

Because of me. Because I failed to pull the trigger.

I sat up and planted my feet flat on the floor. Anxiety ripped through my body. I was petrified to relive that moment and see their burning faces, hear the bone-shattering cries. I stretched my neck and rubbed my shoulders as I walked to the bathroom and opened up the medicine cabinet. I hated taking the pills; didn’t want to be a slave to them. My pride drove me to think I could recover on my own, not wanting to admit my own weakness, but it had begun to take a toll.

I wanted to rest.

Needed it.

I opened up the bottle and poured a white pill onto my palm, letting it sit there for a long time before picking it up and holding it between my index finger and thumb.

Shit.

I simply couldn’t do it. A part of me still believed I deserved the nightmares. The pain kept their memory alive. It was my duty to honor it even if it meant losing my sanity.

I flushed the pill down the toilet and went back to bed.