Chapter 12

His concern had escalated to anxiety when he did not hear from her by six. He had told her he wanted a week to sort things through, but not hearing from her would change that.

Calling the front desk of her building, he identified himself. "I need to get in touch with one of your residents." He said without preamble.

"Of course, Mr. Braithwaite." The concierge on duty said respectfully. "What's the name of the resident?"

"Celeste Campbell. I have been calling her phone and not getting her. Could you find out what's going on?"

There was a slight hesitation before the woman responded. "She put a ‘no disturb' sign on her door. I just checked, and it's still there."

Rylan ignored the impatience and realized the woman was just doing her job. "That's because she was not feeling well. I need to know if she is not passed out on the floor unconscious. I'll wait."

"Yes, sir."

Tapping his fingers on his desk, he waited impatiently. The women came back on the line, sounding a little breathless. "I sent one of the staff to check on her, and she said she was sleeping and would call you right away."

"Thank you." He hung up immediately, and his phone did not take long to ring.

"Rylan?" The sound of her voice had him going weak with relief.

"Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" He asked her mildly.

"I am sorry. I was sicker than I originally thought and doubled up on the medication. I am afraid I slept the day away. I threw up almost as soon as I took the medication this afternoon and had to take some more. You were worried about me?"

"What do you think?"

"I think that's incredibly sweet. Care to come over and cuddle?"

His heart skittered inside his chest, and he was sorely tempted to do that. "I have a business dinner that I would blow off if I had not heard from you."

"And?"

"Now that I know you are on the mend, I am afraid we are back to the arrangement."

"A week."

"Yes."

He smiled at her deep sigh. "I am asking you to understand."

"How can I say no?" She asked lightly. "I am in the wrong, and I promised to do anything to make things right."

"I wish you wouldn't look at it like that." He glanced at his watch. "I am running late. May I call you when I get home?"

"I will probably be wide awake after sleeping almost the entire day. Please call."

"Eat something."

"I intend to."

"Talk later." He hung up before he could say anything else, something that had been on the tip of his tongue. Leaning back, he closed his eyes. He wanted to throw caution to the wind and just jump right in, but something was holding him back. And he was going with his instinct. Pushing back from the desk, he went to get his jacket.

*****

Her appetite was nonexistent. She had ordered takeout and gone to the French restaurant just a few blocks away, but the Coq au Vin was not doing it for her. Neither was the excellent bottle of Cabernet she had chosen to go with the meal. She was listless and teary, and her head felt as if it was stuffed with cotton.

She could not stop thinking or wondering if Rylan had lied to her. Was he really going to a business dinner, or was he going to see her? She had no right to be jealous—oh yes, she had!

Pushing away from the table, she started pacing the elegant length of her living room. She had taken a much-needed shower and dragged on a pair of leggings and an old sweater.

The conversation with her brother was messing with her head. He had called, hadn't he? When he could not hear from her, he had gone to the trouble of calling the front desk and getting them to send someone up to check on her. There was bound to be gossip by now, and surely, he would be aware of that. But he had still called to check-in.

Shaking her head, she poured herself a glass of wine and took it over to the window. Both Leesa and Kelly had called to invite her to dinner, but she had declined with the excuse that she was not feeling well.

But she felt trapped, locked inside a box without any way out. Last night had been magical—the entire experience had been more than she expected. Draining the glass, she put it away and marched upstairs.

*****

He should have gone over to see her. He had sat in that restaurant listening to some business associates talk about profit and the viability of investing in an oil well. He had barely contributed anything to the conversation.

The meal had been tasteless, at least to him. Now he was going home to an empty apartment. Tomorrow, he was going to have to face Madeline. He had invited her to lunch instead of dinner because he wanted to get it over and done with and was not looking forward to it one bit.

Oh, but he wanted to see her. Driving into the parking lot, he slid the car to a stop when he saw the woman leaning against the hood of her car.

His heart slowly rolled inside his chest and picked up the unsteady tempo. He had been thinking of her, and here she was. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he parked the car in his reserved space and took his time exiting the vehicle. Figuring that he had managed to compose himself somewhat, he approached her.

"Fancy seeing you here."

Her eyes searched his face for some sign that she was not welcome. "Funny thing." Folding her hands under her breasts, she struck a nonchalant pose. "There I was inside my apartment where I ordered something delicious from the French restaurant-"

"Mignon?"

"Yep." he had made no move to come closer, and she was trying not to let that bother her.

"The same. Anyway, I told you I slept most of the day and was restless."

"So you decided to go for a drive?" He offered helpfully.

"Something like that."

"And your vehicle pointed to this area."

"Amazing, isn't it?" She was peeking at him through her lashes.

"I agree."

‘So, what do you think?"

"I think that I should thank your vehicle."

"Why?"

"I was thinking that I had a yearning to see you."

"Is that so?" She could not keep the huskiness out of her voice.

"Shall we?" He reached out a hand and waited for her to take it. Putting her hand in his, she almost sighed aloud as his fingers closed over hers. He did not let go of her, not even when they were heading up in the elevator. She would have wanted to feel his arms around her, but this was good enough.

Sitting in her car and waiting for him, she had agonized over what she would do if he came home with her, which would have proven that he had been lying to her about a business dinner. Pushing the door open, he ushered her and closed it behind them.

"Want a drink?"

"No." She shook her head.

"How is the head?"

"A little weird, but at least it's not pounding like a jackhammer."

"That bad, huh?" Putting his key fob into a crystal vase, he reached for her hand again.

"It was." They climbed the stairs together, and she waited until they were inside his bedroom. "How was the meeting?"

"Boring as hell." Letting go of her hand, he moved towards the tan leather sofa and undressed. "You did not bring extra clothing."

"I was afraid to," she admitted. Toeing off her tennis shoes, she wriggled out of her sweats and thin sweater before walking up the steps and getting into bed. She watched as he slowly took off his tie and unbuttoned his shirt. "I had an agonizing time wondering if I was going against your wishes in coming here. You did ask for a week."

"I did." With his eyes holding hers, he shrugged off the shirt and then dragged the undershirt over his head. Next came his ash gray trousers and then his shoes. Sitting on the sofa, he took off his socks.

Pushing off the sofa, he peeled off his underwear, and her mouth went dry as she stared at the magnificent male in front of her. His shoulders were broad, tapering to a muscular chest. His stomach was flat, and his sex very impressive, especially seeing as he was now aroused.

"Come here." She whispered.

He walked over and climbed the steps, sitting on the edge of the bed. "What now?" His voice was thick, green eyes darkened.

"I am going to need you to come closer."

"How about this?" He climbed next to her and lay there, just out of reach.

"Closer." One hand spread over his chest; her fingers splayed over the smooth expanse of muscles that quivered as she continued to explore. "Mr. Braithwaite, I am impressed with the package."

"Is that so?" He growled. He was doing his exploration, his hand shaping her breast, watching as the nipple rose proudly. "Are you sure you are up to this? We could just cuddle."

"Shut up and kiss me," she whispered, moving into him. Hauling her on top of him, he took her mouth with barely concealed savagery.

*****

He had fallen asleep with his head on her breast. A tender smile touched her lips as she gently combed her fingers through his thick honey-blonde hair. He had made love to her twice before succumbing to sleep.

His arms were wrapped loosely around her waist, his leg imprisoning both of hers. He had banished the nagging fear that had pounded inside her head for most of the day.

He had not said the words she was longing to hear, but there was no way he was not in love with her. She had seen the unguarded pleasure on his handsome face before he hid it.

She would do her best to make things right between them. If he still insisted on the week, she would allow it because she owed him that.

Even now, she was hoping that his seed was growing inside her womb. Yes, she had a contract with Romano's, but with her slender build, it would take months before she started to show. And even then, she could persuade Monique to go with a ‘sexy pregnant mother campaign.'

Nothing was as important as being with the man she loved with all her heart. And making babies with him.

He had not said anything about marriage, and she hated to admit that was also a worry. He had proposed to her when she was sixteen, and she felt that it would take a lot for him to make that offer again.

She told herself firmly that it didn't matter. They would take the time to get to know each other, go places, have dinner, fly to Paris and the Caribbean, and just enjoy each other. Everything else could come after.

She was willing to wait. She shifted slightly and carefully so she would not wake him and studied his face. A tiny frown pleased his brow, and she wondered what was going through his head. His brows were thick and slightly darker than the hair on his head.

His nose was straight, his mouth firm with a sensuous tilt. She felt her heart turning over as she continued to stare at him.

Even as a teen, he had been the hottest boy at school, and the girls were all over him. She had stayed away because she told herself that she had no intention of getting involved with what she thought of as a rich, entitled teenager with too much money and used to getting whatever he wanted.

But he had pursued her, making a nuisance of himself until she had finally agreed to go for a drive in his Corvette. She had commented on that.

"I know you think you are impressing me with the luxury car, but that is far from the truth. Your parents made a mistake giving you something so expensive you have not worked for. It's not going to do you a world of good."

She had criticized his expensive and preppy clothing, the cut of his hair, and the fact that he had girls falling over themselves to be with him.

But nothing she said had turned him off. When they first made love, she was shocked to realize that despite his extreme popularity, his wealth, and his looks, he was a virgin. She had been his first. It had her demanding answers, and he had simply smiled and told her poignantly that he had been waiting for her.

It had overwhelmed her; at first, she had no idea what to do about it. This incredibly wealthy and handsome boy had kept himself pure. He had avoided all the temptations of girls throwing themselves at him.

His friends had been ‘dogs'. She knew they had used their positions to nail every female who looked their way and extended an invitation, but not Rylan. She had been his first, which had done something to her then, and it still managed to make an impression on her now.

Yes, she did not doubt that he had been with several women to try and get over her. But he had stayed in love with her despite fighting to forget. And that humbled her. She had a long way to go to gain his trust and have him openly express his love for her, but she was willing to wait.

She had tortured herself with doubts and fears after the conversation at lunch with her brother and wondered if she was making a mistake coming here, but he had proven she had not.

He was pleased that she had taken the initiative to just drop by. She wanted to marry him so much but would have to wait.

She was hoping that they would tie the knot in the summer. He suggested they go out on dates and get to know each other, which was a very good idea. But she did not want to wait too long. Oh please, God, let it be a short courtship.

*****

He watched her rub cream into her skin as he shrugged on the shirt he had chosen to wear. His heart had jumped inside his chest when he opened his eyes to see her curled into him.

The shower they had taken together had stretched out several minutes more because he had insisted on soaping her up, and that had led to him taking her against the tiles.

"You came prepared," he noted.

"What?" She looked at him in confusion and noticed he was looking at her, creaming her skin. "I did." She nodded to the large tote she had left on the leather sofa. "I am going straight to the photo shoot."

"How is it going?"

"Good." Capping the bottle, she rose gracefully and stood before him. Brushing his hands away, she swiftly knotted the herringbone tie around his collar. "It's a bit tiresome, with long hours doing the same pose. Bob - the photographer-" She explained at his curious look.

"He is a perfectionist, but he gets great results. He is also a nosy asshole who gossips a hell of a lot for a guy." Her fingers wandered over his cheek and touched the tiny area where he had nicked himself shaving. ‘Was this my fault?"

"Completely." he felt the shudder racking her body as she pressed her lips to it.

"I am sorry." She whispered.

His arms came around her narrow waist as he breathed in her scent. "I have to go."

"I know. Duty calls."

"Yes." His hands moved up and down her back restlessly. He was falling into the same pattern of being addicted to her. Even when he was not with her, he could smell her exotic perfume and the taste of her lips on his. He knew the shape of her, the curves of her body that fit him so well.

"I have to go."

"You said that before." Cupping his cheeks, she pressed her lips to his, and he was helpless to resist. The kiss deepened until he was crushing her mouth, his fingers digging into her back. Reluctantly, he tore his mouth from hers, his breathing harsh, and took a step back, trying to regain control.

"Are you happy?"

She was startled at the sudden change in his tone and expression.

"What-"

"You can turn me on like a switch. I bet that makes you feel powerful. I just fall back in your arms like a ripe plum. It must make you feel so powerful."

Taking a deep breath, Celeste realized that he was projecting. He was angry at himself and was taking it out on her.

"You do the same for me." She told him quietly, refusing to accommodate him.

Turning away, he went to get his jacket. When he remained silent, she picked up her bag and slung it over her shoulder, not knowing what to say.

"I asked you for a week. I would appreciate you sticking to the arrangement and staying away for that period." His voice was taut, his expression grim. "Am I clear?"

"As crystal," she snapped, her patience at an end. "Let's do it this way—" she turned around just as they got to the doorway. No calls, no messages, no anything. We both take the week, and you do whatever the hell you think you should do during that time. I will be doing the same."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that I am sick and tired of having the past and my mistakes thrown at me. I have apologized, and I am trying here. Well, to hell with you, Rylan. You feel comfortable living in the past and holding it up as a shield." Passing a hand over her forehead, she huffed out a breath. "Take the week."

With that, she spun around and headed out of the living room and down the stairs. He stood where he was for a minute, wondering what to do. He was indeed angry that she could turn him on without the slightest effort, and he was scared that he was heading down the familiar path.

Perhaps they need space from each other. Taking a deep breath, he headed after her, his briefcase slung over one shoulder. He had intended to make them coffee before they left, but that would not happen. They were both upset, and she was already standing by the door, waiting for him to disengage the alarm.

Brushing past her, he did so and waited for her to precede him. They took the elevator in silence, with her focused on her phone. As soon as they got to the parking lot, she got into her vehicle and, without a word of goodbye, drove away, leaving him standing and looking after it.

The morning was crisp and clear, the air redolent with flowers blooming nearby. His loft was private, something he had insisted on. Pressing the alarm, he got in and just sat there. She had accused him of holding onto the past, but he had a right, did he not?

She had hurt him unbearably. And during that time of suffering, he had sworn that he would never allow anyone to hurt him that way again. His hands tightened on the steering wheel as he recalled how he had humiliated himself by going to her after he read her damning letter with the idea of begging her to reconsider.

And he had begged. He had fallen on his knees and pleaded with tears in his eyes. He had told her he would do anything if she would stay. Anything she wanted, and still she had turned him away. The words she had said to him were still wedged inside his brain, and it would take time. She was damn well going to have to understand and accept that!