She hadn’t agreed, but she had gone. And now he was alone in the house and missing her already.
He may have suggested that he was going into the city to work, but that was utter bullshit. He was too ripped up to be around other people. Better to stay in, go through some loose ends for Deliverance. Maybe watch five or six hours of mindless television so he wouldn’t have to think about how maybe he’d just made the biggest mistake of his life by sending her away.
It was all true—he needed to think. He needed time. He needed to figure out what he wanted, what he needed.
Because right now, he only knew one thing—he needed her. He just didn’t know how to have her without hurting her. Without dragging her down to a place she said she was willing to go, but he knew damn well she didn’t belong.
Dammit all to hell. He was a fucking mess.
A fucking mess, and at loose ends.
He’d meant it when he said he needed to clear his head, and the best way he knew to do that was to take a walk on the beach. He was back in his bedroom, and now he looked for his headphones, finally finding them on the bedside table. He pulled up a playlist on his phone, then started toward the door.
He paused, then stripped off the slacks he’d pulled on to go meet Bill. He crumpled the damn things, tossed them in a corner, and then searched out the jeans he’d worn at the party. He picked them up, then breathed in the scent of her, grateful that Archie hadn’t come through to gather up the laundry.
After telling himself he was being ridiculous but not much caring, he pulled on the jeans. Because, dammit, if he couldn’t have the woman, he at least wanted the memory.
He hurried downstairs, then out the French doors to the pool deck—then stopped short when he saw the woman on one of the deck chairs.
Not Jane—Adele.
“Adele,” he said, forcing himself not to frown as he crossed to her. “I didn’t know you were here.”
She tilted the brim of her hat back and smiled up at him, still stunning even past fifty. “Didn’t Archie tell you?” Her mouth pulled down into a frown. “He must still be looking for you.”
“So what’s up? Why are you here?”
“I’m meeting a real estate agent in forty minutes—there was hardly any traffic coming in and I got here so early I thought I’d drive over and see you and Jane.” She turned to sit up. Her dress was short, and hitched up as she shifted, revealing a glimpse of pink lace. Dallas looked away, certain the casual reveal had been intentional.
“Buying?”
“Considering.” She glanced around. “Isn’t Jane around?”
He shook his head, trying to look casual. “Why would she be?”
“She was here when I called,” Adele reminded him.
“Oh, that. She just came to gawk at the party,” he said, copying Jane’s earlier story to Bill. “She left well before it ran its course.”
“Did she?” She took a step toward him, and he saw the small beads of sweat in her cleavage. She reached for him, taking his hand in hers before he could pull away. “Did that upset you?” Her voice was low. Soothing. “Had you fantasized that she would stay? Maybe sneak into your room late at night?”
He tugged his hand free and stepped back. “Don’t even go there.”
She lifted a brow. “So that would be a yes, then. Poor little rich boy, can’t have the girl he wants.”
He clenched his mouth closed so tight it almost hurt. Adele knew he wanted Jane. But wanting and having were two different things, and no way was he telling her that he and Jane had crossed that line. She might keep it confidential—hell, the woman was a therapist, so she was trained to keep secrets—but she might also tell Colin. After all, she wasn’t Dallas’s therapist, but she’d once been his lover. If she learned about Jane … if she turned out to be jealous …
The thought made him frown. At one point, he’d actually considered that Adele might be his letter writer. But he’d dismissed the idea quickly enough. The timing was wrong, for one thing. He’d finally and fully broken off with Adele about four months ago, but the letters had started long before that.
Besides, Adele was hardly obsessed with him. She had a long string of lovers, including her ex-husband, Colin.
“Must have been hard.” She tilted her head to one side as she studied him.
“What’s that?”
“Having her in your house. Being civil to her. And not having her the way you want to.”
He kept his face passive. The woman had no idea how much she spoke the truth.
“I could ease some of that tension.” She stepped closer. “I’m sure that agent won’t mind if I’m a few minutes late.”
He had to chuckle. “I don’t think so, Adele. I don’t want fucked up. Not today.”
“No? What do you want?”