Again?
Madeline pushed up on her elbows and turned her head. Through her tangled hair, she could see Luke lying beside her, his body as magnificent in the morning light as in the murky darkness of a storm. He was sleeping soundly, one arm draped across his chest, the other above his head. He was gorgeous, magnificent. Trudi would drool if she saw him.
Madeline moved slowly, carefully disentangling herself from the bedsheets. When she stood beside the bed—a little sore and a little light-headed—she grabbed his shirt and slipped it on, and quietly made her way out. She darted down the small hall to the living area. There was her bag, her phone still on top. Madeline picked them up and stepped into the hall bath, locking the door behind her.
She sank down onto the edge of the tub, ran her fingers through her hair as she stared at the black-and-white tiles of the bathroom floor. She felt a little queasy. She wanted to believe it was hunger, but she knew herself too well. She had exposed herself, had lost control, and what she was feeling was anxiety, full-blown anxiety, that would lead to cracks in her fa?ade and leaks in her foundation. It was unsteadiness and fear that came from letting any light in through those cracks, any light that could warm her, strengthen her, and ultimately destroy her if it was extinguished without warning.
Intimacy made Madeline feel ragged and chopped up on the inside, like a bunch of tiny nicks that were liberally salted when she was least expecting it. But this anxiety felt like a thousand knives dragging through her. She’d had bouts of anxiety, but she’d never felt it quite like this. It felt as if there was so much of her internal wiring at risk! It made no sense, she recognized that. She only knew that she couldn’t control this. She couldn’t organize herself out of attachment to him, or keep from getting hurt. She couldn’t keep from being rejected and left behind.
This was why she didn’t have casual sex, Trudi’s advocacy of it notwithstanding. Sex was never casual for Madeline. That wasn’t to say she regretted a moment of last night, God no, quite the opposite. It had been surreal, and she’d felt… she’d felt so happy. So damn free from all the rules and expectations she put on herself.
Which only meant the cuts would go deeper, and the fall would be that much harder. Because now she had to deal with the inevitable aftermath of last night. In spite of the feelings she had for Luke Kendrick, nothing had changed: Her life was still in Orlando. She’d spent time yesterday meeting with the realtor who would give her a valuation of the ranch and bring them clients, just so that she could go back to Orlando.
Luke’s life was here, and his heart was still attached, in part, to someone else. It was true—Madeline had seen the look on his face last night when he realized Julie’s picture was there. There was something about that woman that was still rattling around in him.
The trick, Madeline told herself, was to detach from an extraordinary night calmly, rationally, and without bothersome emotions. And she was the last woman who knew how to do that with any finesse.
TWENTY-TWO
When Luke awoke, he stretched long, ran his hand alongside him.
The bed was empty.
He lay there, his eyes closed and a lazy smile as memories of a very special night drifted back to him.
Madeline’s voice filtered into his consciousness, trailing down the hallway to him like a ribbon of smoke.
Luke sat up, rubbed his eyes, ran his fingers through his hair. Last night had been beyond excellent, because something about Madeline had shifted off center. He’d always thought her pretty, but she’d been alluring on a whole other level. She’d let herself go, had let herself exist entirely in the moment, and it had been incredibly sexy. It had made Luke forget an otherwise awful day, forget everything but her.
He loved the charming vulnerabilities in her, but last night, he’d seen a glimpse, however brief, of a wounded little girl still lurking somewhere deep inside. It didn’t take a degree in psychology to get that Grant’s absence in her life had done a number on her.
Luke empathized with her. He guessed he had some issues of his own, because her vulnerability had made him want her something fierce. That first kiss had knocked him to his knees. Madeline had stoked an unholy yearning in him and then had responded so openly and passionately that he’d been completely undone by it. Completely.