An Inconvenient Obsession (13 page)

“I don’t need one,” he said, brutally quashing the need to comfort her. “I have everything I want, and am perfectly content with my life as it is.”

“Then why are you pursuing me?”

He glowered at her in silence.

“If you’re perfectly content, why court the messiness I’m sure to bring?” Her cheeks flared with distressed color as she
pressed her point. “With our history, with all the ugly baggage of our past, why on earth would you choose to seduce me over the dozens of other women you could have without any strings attached?”

“Because.”

“Because?” She huffed out an exasperated exhale. “How is that a reason?”

“I don’t know,” he snapped. “Maybe I want to prove that I’m good enough to claim you.”

The words hung suspended between them, revealing far more than he’d intended to reveal. But it was too late to call them back, too late to stuff them back inside, deep, deep inside where they belonged.

Cate stared at Ethan, the vulnerability beneath his admission making her ache for the man he’d once been, for the man he’d hidden away from the world. From himself, even. “Oh, Ethan,” she said softly, lifting a palm to his face while her eyes searched his. “You were always good enough for me. How could you ever doubt that?”

He lifted his chin from her hand and glared out over their liveried driver’s head. “Spare me your damn pity.”

“What?”

He dismissed her question with a scowl, his jaw bunching in anger.

“It’s not pity,” she insisted. “Why on earth would you think I pity you?”

When he ignored her in favor of the passing city lights leading to the park, she stopped pressing for answers and simply watched him in silence. Tension radiated off of him, knit into his clenched teeth and rigid thighs and arms. His posture alone testified to the emotional walls he’d erected, keeping him guarded and alone. It made her want to pull him close, wrap her arms around him and tuck herself up against
his ribs. She wanted to warm the coldness inside, to comfort him and convince him of his own worth.

“The park is beautiful,” she finally said, once they’d entered the canopy of trees lining the main drive within Central Park.

“It is,” he said in curt agreement.

It wasn’t much, but it was a start. She ran a finger over a seam in the blanket, close to his thigh but not quite touching. “I’d forgotten how good it smells here.”

He didn’t reply and her words died to silence on the cold October breeze. Overhead, trees interlaced their shadowed branches, allowing intermittent views of a star-studded sky. After a while, she reached for his hand, curling her gloved fingers over his clenched fist. He remained stiff and unyielding until, feeling foolish, she moved to withdraw her touch.

“Don’t,” he said, breaking the silence. He turned his hand to claim hers and then dragged their joined fingers to his hard thigh. Despite the cold, he was warm, seeping heat through her long, white glove.

“Ethan—”

“Don’t talk,” he said without looking at her, his hand tightening around hers. “Just enjoy the drive.”

She nodded in mute agreement, a fragile hope winging through her chest. Maybe now, they could move forward. Without any barriers. Without any lies.

As they made their leisurely circuit around the park with their hands joined, her hopes tightened into an unbearable knot of longing. It felt as if they were the only two people in the park, alone in a wooded wonderland while the rest of the world spun crazily around them.

After a few more minutes of silence, broken only by the steady rhythm of the horse’s hooves, Ethan divested Cate of her glove. Their bare hands met, palm against palm beneath the blanket, and she closed her eyes, steeping herself in his
%
nearness. His thumb grazed the edge of hers for a while, ratcheting up the aching need that had settled into her stomach.

Tucked up against him with the scents of fall mingling with his masculine essence, she could almost pretend they were lovers in truth. She could almost pretend that her scars wouldn’t matter and that the past ten years had never happened.

W
HEN
the carriage driver drew to a halt several blocks outside the park, Cate recognized the location and then turned to Ethan with a curious, surprised glance. “What are we doing here?”

“I’m hungry.” His glance grazed her mouth.

“But aren’t they closed?”

“Not to us.” He handed her down from the carriage. “When’s the last time you ate a decent meal?”

Certainly not in the past few days. She hadn’t eaten properly before the auction, as her nerves had been too highly strung. And in the wake of his seduction, she’d been too distracted to think about food. Too nervous and unsettled. “Yesterday?” she said, realizing she was famished.

Ethan pressed his mouth into a grim line of disapproval. Within minutes, he’d escorted her inside Le Bernardin’s elegant dining room.

“There’s no one else here!” Cate gasped, turning to view the restaurant’s interior, empty save for their sole table.

“I met the chef at your auction,” Ethan said, as if he reserved entire restaurants after hours as a matter of course. “He agreed to provide an intimate meal for two at my behest.”

“I’m impressed.” She relinquished her coat and slid into the silk-covered seat before a waiter materialized to drape a linen napkin over her lap.

An hour and a half later, after being spoiled by the flawless French service, an incomparable sommelier, a lovely shrimp ravioli puddled in truffle sauce and two full glasses of wine, Cate realized the heated emotion infusing her was more than mere tipsiness. Ethan had relaxed over dinner, losing much of the hard, defensive edge he’d worn in the park, and it made her harbor hopes she had no business feeling. Hopes that she felt nonetheless.

“Tell me about Europe,” she said, leaning forward to cup her chin within her palm. “Do you have a special project that means more to you than the others?”

“Every businessman remembers his first success,” he said, looking at her over his glass of wine. “That first moment when he starts to believe he can actually catch the dream he’s been chasing.”

“That was your first hotel in London, right?”

He nodded, a small smile flirting with his mouth. “The first one I financed and built all on my own, yes.”

“I read somewhere that you’ve built a hundred since.”

“One hundred and eight.” His eyes flashed with pride and she felt her own heart welling with reciprocal satisfaction.

“But none in the States yet.”

“Not yet,” he said cryptically. “But I’m considering a hotel here, in New York.”

“So you might come back? For more than just this trip?”

His gaze caught hers and held. “Depends,” he said.

A flutter of awareness beat low within her belly. “On what?”

“You.”

She swallowed, the wine in her stomach heating with a surge of longing. Maybe she could snatch a few hours of pleasure before fate ripped Ethan away again. Maybe she could wrest a little joy from the barren future stretched ahead of
her. Didn’t she owe it to herself to glean as much happiness as possible before the truth sent him away again?

Slightly tipsy, more than slightly aroused and starved for another of his bold kisses, Cate fantasized about how the night might unfold. With him. In the dark. In his bed.

What if they could make love without him seeing her scars? Without pity and disgust and regrets about the past rising up between them? She knew she couldn’t postpone the inevitable forever, but maybe, for a couple of idyllic hours, she could forget all the reasons things would never work between them.

They shared a decadent chocolate-chicory dessert and he watched her with burning eyes as she licked the final bit of chocolate
cremeux
from her thumb. Staring over the flickering candlelight on their table, she leaned forward to run her fingers around the base of her wineglass, a mere hairsbreadth from Ethan’s splayed hand. Her eyes drifted halfway shut as the quiet night closed around them, until the only sounds were their unsteady breaths.

He moved his hand so his fingertips brushed the ridge of her knuckles. “Ready?”

“Yes.” Desire hung between them, thick and intoxicating, and she wondered how he’d react, were she to lift her stocking-clad foot between his hard thighs. She wanted, oh, how she wanted, to launch herself onto his lap and feel him against her skin again. “And just so you know … I’ve changed my mind,” she heard herself confess. Emboldened by her own daring, she leaned forward to clarify, “About taking you to my bed.”

His fingers froze atop her hand, the shock of his response hovering in the air. He waited ten heartbeats before he slowly exhaled. “You’re a little drunk,” he finally said, extending his palm and standing. “Aren’t you?”

“Maybe,” she recklessly admitted, lifting her hand to his. “Does that bother you?”

His profile was shadowed as he pulled her to her feet and then directed her toward the small coatroom to collect her wrap. Ethan helped her into her coat and then curled his hands into her lapels before staring intently into her eyes. “It makes me wonder about your judgment.”

A fluttering nervousness beat against her throat. “I’m pretty sure I have none left to wonder about.”

He didn’t reply. Instead, he led her outside, one hand braced at the base of her spine, the other curved gently around her elbow. After reaching the sidewalk, they were soon swallowed by the glittering night lights of the city.

Times Square was still alive despite the late hour, and inebriated Halloween revelers filled the streets. Some sang, some danced dizzily and still others took advantage of the festive atmosphere to indulge in sloppy public kisses. She shivered and Ethan drew her closer, his voice soft and warm against her ear. “Maybe we should walk a bit.”

“Okay,” she told him, leaning close to seek refuge from the cold. His tuxedo jacket carried the scents of fall and wine, coupled with the subtle aroma of a virile, aroused man. She could feel his heat, swallowing her up as fully as the surrounding night. As her eyes adjusted to the scene of revelry, Ethan’s surefooted steps guided her through the intoxicated crowd.

When she stumbled over a ridge of uneven sidewalk, he anchored his arm about her ribs, bracing her shoulder against his side. “Thank you,” she said with a grimace toward her transparent heels. “Cinderella apparently didn’t do much walking about the uneven sidewalks of New York.”

“Certainly not a tipsy Cinderella,” he agreed.

“Then it’s a good thing I have you here to save me, huh?”

Ethan stopped, then turned her to face him with a steadying grip against her upper arms. He waited until she raised
her eyes to his and then said, “I’m no prince, Cate. You best know that now.”

“Oh, I do,” she told him before she licked her lips and lowered her gaze to his mouth. “You’re my wounded knight, hurting and angry at the world.” She leaned forward within his grasp, trying to narrow the distance between them. “You’re closed off and emotionally unavailable and I don’t care. I want you anyway.”

His fingers tightened, his thumbs scant inches from her breasts. The thought of him caressing her there, in all the sensitive places his hands had explored when they were young, made her breath quicken. She stared at him, adrift with longing, until the crests of his cheeks darkened and his nostrils flared. Sure that he’d kiss her again, she swayed toward him and her eyelids fluttered closed.

Instead, he pressed her upright again, dug out his cell phone, dialed and issued a low-voiced order. Snapping it closed, he returned it to his pocket and then guided her into a department store alcove, away from the chilling breeze. The lights of Times Square refracted off the chrome and glass, drawing lines on his lean cheek and casting his profile in shadows. “My car will be here in two minutes.”

“I don’t mind waiting.” She rotated toward his chest and burrowed close, snaking her arms beneath his tuxedo jacket.

Ethan allowed her embrace, gradually relaxing as his breath skimmed the top of her head. They stood in silence for several beats as he scanned the street for his car until it arrived, gliding to a smooth, silent stop. With a subtle press of his palm against her spine, Ethan assisted her into the limousine. The shadowed interior smelled like him, and she inhaled sharply as she slid over the soft, heated leather.

After he’d joined her and the car rejoined the traffic, Cate gathered her courage and twisted until her knee pressed
against his hard thigh. Leaning forward, her gaze traced his harsh profile while the lights of the city created moving strips of visibility along his silhouette. Trembling with a mix of fear and daring, she reached for his rigid shoulder. “Will you stay tonight?” she asked. “Once you take me home?”

When he didn’t move away, she slid her free hand into the gap between his lapels, beneath the warm weight of wool, and skimmed her fingers down the shirt and vest of his tuxedo. The muscles of his chest flexed beneath her palm.

“I’d like you to,” she told him. She shifted her hand until the insistent clubbing of his heart abraded her palm. “I’d like to spend a night with you.”

Ethan remained still, his fists knotted against his thighs. “Cate.”

“Please,” she urged. “I want to …” Cate slid closer to him, both hands shoving the sleek tuxedo jacket aside so she could work on the buttons of his vest and shirt. He did nothing to help her, as she quickly worked from his throat down to the waistband of his pants. Shaking with nervousness, she sucked in a hot breath when her fingertips finally came into contact with his fever-hot skin.

Excitement seared her as she pulled his shirt free and then spread it wide to her greedy fingers. Her palms itched to explore the shadowed textures, and she succumbed to the desire, dragging her sensitive palms down the scented, tantalizing stretch of taut skin and springy hair. Fervent determination fired her blood as she found his flat nipple with her fingertip. Expecting him to push her back at any moment, she leaned forward to graze it with her tongue.

Ethan groaned and his chest heaved beneath her questing mouth. He tunneled his fingers along her scalp and wrenched her head away from his skin, hauling her up until his mouth caught hers in a voracious, drugging kiss. Hard shivers wracked Cate’s body while his hands moved from
her head to her hips. Lifting her, he positioned her buttocks over his spraddled thighs before he returned his attentions to her mouth. Several long moments later, his breath choppy and raw, he withdrew enough to stare at the stiff corset of her Cinderella costume.