Her body shook like it was in the grip of a fever. Fireworks went off in her brain, short-circuiting, and she tore apart in two. Half of her sobbed in relief and surrendered. The other half cringed in bone-gripping fear of the unknown and unrealistic.
Marriage and relationships were about compromise. Communication. Likability. Not this crazy hormonal ride, and soul-ripping, raw need. It couldn’t be.
So Riley stood in his arms, frozen, not able to say a word. His hands stroked her cheek, the truth shattering them both, and then he kissed her.
Pure. Oh, his kiss gave everything she’d always wanted, sweet and gentle and humbling. She kissed him back, savoring every last moment, and when he pulled away she knew what she had to do.
“It’ll never work,” she whispered. She closed her eyes, trembling with the force of her need, and the iron-will control she had to stay strong. “You and I together will never . . . fit.”
“That fucking box again.” He stepped back, releasing her. He quickly turned, but she already caught the agony on his face, making a moan emit from her throat. He fisted his hands, cursing viciously under his breath. Finally, he spoke, but kept his back turned.
“I guess you’ve made your decision. I can’t force you to take a chance. I can’t force you to have feelings you may not. And I’m sorry, too.”
He moved toward the door. “I’ll call the tow truck to get you out of here and give you a lift home. Help yourself to coffee.”
He left. Riley shuddered, slumping down to rest in the chair and catch her shaking legs. She knew he had done more than left her in the kitchen. He’d respected her very rational, logical decision and let her go completely.
Too bad the win suddenly felt like the biggest loss in her life.
chapter 9
Two weeks later, Riley slumped in her office chair. Usually, her work schedule energized her, revving her up. Goals and deadlines were her happy place. But since she left Dylan, everything seemed . . . flat. Uninspired. Even the chocolate chips she’d put in her bran muffins didn’t make her happy.
Now, that was just plain scary.
Holding back a sigh, she tapped the pen against her blotter and tried to think. She’d told Kate to schedule her as many dates as possible with partners who complemented her list. She’d gone on four dates. A lawyer, accountant, teacher, and doctor. They’d been intelligent, low key, and respectable. They wanted children. She had a good time. But God, they were so dull.
Dylan had ruined her.
She’d reached for the phone to call him a hundred times during the past two weeks. He’d probably hang up on her. Riley ached that she’d been the one to hurt him, when all he had done was be brave and confess his true feelings. The same exact feelings she had for him, but was too chickenshit to follow. What a mess.
The unstoppable truth haunted her night after night. Dylan McCray was the man she was meant for. He may not be the type she imagined, but he completed her. Got her. He didn’t allow for her bullshit, respected her career, knew her past, ravished her body and soul with a hunger never matched. Life may be calmer without him. More reasonable. But it would be empty and lonely and dark.
What was she going to do?
How could she get him back?
The red light flashed on her phone. “Ms. Fox, you have a visitor. He’s not on your schedule but insisted you’d see him. Dylan McCray.”
Her mouth fell open. After trying to talk several times, she finally managed a squeak. “Yes, thanks, Cindy, you can send him in.”
She scrambled to neaten her desk, stood up, sat back down, then stood up again. Sweat dampened her palms. What did he want? Was he still angry? Would he try to get her back? What if he laughed and said her leaving was the best thing that ever happened to him? He strolled through the door thirty seconds later in a navy blue pin-striped suit, red tie, and leather loafers. He was the symbol of the gorgeous, successful American man, powerful and commanding with every move, the sharp fabric creased perfectly and a tangy aftershave floating from his skin that made her want to keep sucking in air.
“Dylan.” Her voice ripped from her throat. “I’m surprised to see you.”
“Riley.” He nodded, but his eyes gleamed with a mysterious intent. “I’m surprised I’m here myself. But after the two weeks I had, I realized I had no choice.”
She stumbled forward. The space between them yawned with emptiness. His body heat hummed from across the room. “Do—do you want to sit?”
“No, thank you. This shouldn’t take long.”
Riley fought a shudder and tried to look calm. She shifted on her high heels, glad she’d worn her smart pink plaid Jones suit. She needed all the confidence possible. “Why are you here?”