Breathe for Me

chapter Thirteen





Xander stayed in Chelsea’s bed the entire night. Usually he crawled out at some point, dragging himself back to his apartment for the remainder of the night. After he’d had sex with her again. But this time he failed to summon the energy or will to leave. He was finally breaking through her defenses. She’d taken action last night—played with the toy as he’d wanted her to. She’d decided. She’d teased, laughed, talked dirty right back at him. Having her watch waterpolo had been good, the restaurant better, their bed play after—brilliant.

Only now he wanted yet more—to have her truly take the lead. To open right up to him and tease him hard out the way he suspected she would if she could let herself go. He couldn’t walk away until he’d achieved that.

But more than that, he wanted to know her. Not just physically.

He woke before she did. He watched her sleeping deeply and dreamlessly. No nightmare. He drew in a satisfied breath. She was curled, facing towards him. Beautiful, warm and snugly. He ached for her to wake, but didn’t want to disturb her rest. Lazily he reached for his phone and checked some emails. He hoped she’d stir soon. But then her phone vibrated and emitted that tinkling tune.

“Oh hell,” she mumbled, reluctantly rolling to her back. “Sorry.” She didn’t even look at him as she turned away to grab the phone and get out of bed. “Hey Mom. Yeah. No. I’m good.”

Her voice faded as she wandered into the other room. “I just slept in.”

He lay in bed a few minutes longer, giving her the privacy to take her call. It was clear she wanted that space. Interesting that her mother called so often—that Chelsea was constantly required to assert her wellness. And yet close as they were, she wasn’t telling her mother everything.

He smothered a snort. It shouldn’t bother him that she hadn’t told her mom she was with a guy. What did he expect her to say—‘don’t call so early Mom, I’m tired from having so much sex’?

So not gonna happen. Not from more-private-than-a-porcupine Chelsea Greene. She was all about keeping her life compartmentalized, that was clear.

So getting to know all of her wasn’t going to be easy. Good thing he knew how to work hard.

He didn’t get the wake-up sex he’d craved—couldn’t take advantage of the ground he’d gained the night before. Her call took too long, he had meetings to get to. But halfway through the day he found he couldn’t concentrate on work any more. He’d had a call from his engineer to go back and help him out on the independent cinema project in Houston.

Xander didn’t want to go. He frowned at his own reaction. That was a first. He never let anything distract him from work, certainly not a woman. He pushed back from his desk and went outside for some fresh air. Ended up catching a cab on a whim.

He got out of the cab. A brightly colored coffee cart was parked to one side of the entrance of the equally vibrant building. Xander read the sign in the lobby and took the elevator to the fourth floor.

“Can you tell me where I might find Chelsea Greene?” He asked the receptionist.

“Sure, follow me.”

Xander followed, glancing round the small open plan office as she led him through it. No sign of the one he wanted. The girl paused and frowned. “This is her desk, she shouldn’t be far—”

“You just missed her. She’s just gone down to grab coffee.” A guy came over. “I’m Steve.”

Xander nodded, trying not to glare at the hippie dude with shoulder length hair and collection of leather ties round his wrists. Doubtless he was another intern, and Xander couldn’t possibly be jealous of him getting to spend his workdays with Chelsea. He turned to study the drawings pinned on the chest-high partition around Chelsea’s desk. Some were plans, some were ‘artist impressions’ and some were just art. Wow. He bent to study one closer. He’d not seen any of these in her apartment, but then that place was crazy full of small herbs. But her work was something else. The woman could really draw.

“She’s so talented.” The Steve guy commented. “Really creative.”

Xander tensed. Yeah, he wanted to see more of her ‘creativity.’ Damn, he needed to stop constantly thinking about sex. Except it wasn’t really sex he was thinking about. It was Chelsea. All about Chelsea.

Discomfort flared in his chest. He really shouldn’t be here. He turned.

“Oh.”

She was right there, steaming keep-cup in hand.

“What are you doing here?” She asked. She blushed and sent a quick sideways glance towards Steve. But Xander knew she was pleased to see him, he caught the spark in her eyes. That tight feeling in his chest eased.

“Checking out what you do all day.” He shrugged, aiming to lighten his own mood further. “Whether you really are going to do something with all that greenery in your apartment.”

“Really?” She laughed. “You really want to see?”

He nodded, genuinely interested. With an almost shy smile she showed him some of the projects she’d been studying. Examples of temporary installations and structures in cities where some kind of catastrophe had occurred. Earthquakes, floods, storms.

“People do interesting things in the spaces left after destruction. It can lead to regeneration, growth,” she said. “And I think people have a need for something beautiful too see them through the interim, right? Before the rebuild really begins. Because that can take so long.”

“Sure,” he nodded. “Maybe.”

“Better to grow some wildflowers than weeds,” she said softly.

“You could leave the land barren.” Why put something in if it was only for a short time?

She shook her head. “Nature will always fill a space. She’ll always reclaim what was once hers. So let’s work with her and make it nice in the meantime.”

That was Chelsea, he mused. She’d been—partly—destroyed. And now she was filling the space the way she wanted—with her work, her desire to live alone. And her call to be an independent, sexually satisfied woman without the need for a long term, intimate relationship. But nature—natural instinct—would reclaim the space eventually. This was only her transition phase. She’d want a family eventually, most people did.

Except not him. He was too damaged. Wild flowers couldn’t grow when the weeds were this thick.

“So.” He looked at the plans for her project. “You’re going sell pizza from a temporary takeout parlour made from basil plants.”

“That’s pretty much the deal, yeah.” She smiled at him.

“It seems a really big effort for something so temporary.” He looked at her bright eyed, beautiful face.

“Everything is only temporary.” She repinned one of her design pictures that was hung crooked. “Nothing lasts.”

“Some of our buildings have been around since the dinosaurs.”

“You exaggerate,” she half snorted. “And you know, most of these buildings won’t be standing in another thousand years. Temporary is the whole point.”

Xander frowned at the way that slipped so easily from her tongue. “You’re going to need some kind of security set-up.”

Now she frowned. “No I won’t.”

“What about the middle of the night?”

“New York never sleeps, right?”

“You’ll get people ripping off all your salad leaves. Or worse, some drunk idiot will decide to use the pots as a pee vessel.”

“Gross.”

“Exactly.”

“I can’t afford security for it.”

He grinned. “I can help you out there.”

Chelsea hesitated, trying to think of an answer, but amused by the direction of his thoughts. He came across so wholesome, totally looked the all-round good guy. A lifeguard of all things, and with his wicked arrogant humor, he was all sunshine and success. And yet there was this dark side. She’d noticed the way he religiously checked her door. Surreptitiously but reliably he assessed for danger, seeking the spaces where a thief, an intruder could enter, always glanced around at exits when entering places. Why was he always on the alert for something not being right?

“What, you don’t want to accept my help?” he prompted at her silence.

“No.” She shook her head. She didn’t want his help on this. “But thank you anyway.”

He didn’t look pleased. “If I was an anonymous donor to the institute, would you accept the help then?” he folded his arms across his chest.

“That would be different.”

“So it’s because you know me that you don’t want my help?” he asked, his voice dropping in volume but sharpening. “Is it because I’m sleeping with you?”

“I just don’t want this to become complicated.” She looked away from his piercing gaze.

Why was he here right now? Why had she felt that rush of pleasure at seeing him here—showing him?

Because his eyes had lit up as he turned and seen her. That tantalizing smile had twitched at the corners of his way too kissable mouth.

Maybe he was right. Maybe she had turned into a nympho. She thought about him too much—always about what they’d done the night before. It flashed into her mind now, and unable to resist, she looked at him again.

His smile reappeared the second she did, chasing away the somber look in his eyes. “There’s no time,” he muttered into her ear. “I have a meeting to get to.”

Her thoughts had been written all over her face? Burning with embarrassment, she glanced over Steve, but he was busy back in front of his computer screen.

“Why are you here—really?” She turned back to Xander.

“I wanted to tell you I’m not coming to see you tonight. I’m on my way to the airport. I’ll be away a few days.”

Chelsea’s stomach lurched. “Oh. Okay.” Disappointment slammed into her like a bus hitting a bug. She was going to miss him. Not just the sex. But him. She turned to walk him back to the elevator, trying not to panic at the deep emotion roiling inside.

“Well, safe travels then, huh?” She dragged out a smile.

His hand too-briefly clasped hers. “I’ll see you when I get back.”

She bit her lip to stop from asking when—to the second—that would be.

So much for not complicated.