Broken (13 page)

She scoffed at that explanation.

“What? She's a doctor.”

“She's a cardiologist. Unless she was checkin' his heart, why'd she be examinin' him?”

“Cardiologists can practice general medicine, too, so it's possible.” I was willing to give Adam the benefit of the doubt. He'd said nothing had happened and he wasn't interested in her, so what choice did I have?

Angie was quiet for a while, her legs swinging from the edge of the rock.

“You really like this guy, don't ya? I mean, don't get me wrong, he's hot as hell, and that accent is to die for.” She turned to face me. “I just don't want my bestie gettin' hurt.”

“He's the most carin' and thoughtful man I've ever met. He swept into my life like a hurricane but instead of turnin' my life upside down and swirlin' it ‘round, he's somehow calmed me down. Everythin' just seems to make sense.” I tried to find the words to make her understand how differently I was seeing the world now that Adam was in it. “It's made me realize how beige my life was with Charles, how what we had was really no life at all. I just existed day to day—there was no excitement, no butterflies or laughter.”

Angie smiled, and I knew she was getting it.

“A simple pizza dinner with Adam is an event. We talk, Ang, like really talk, and he wants to know what I think and how I feel about different things. I never had that with Charles. Every conversation with Charles was like listenin' to a sermon where he held court and preached to me while I sat there like his loyal subject.”

“Y'all weren't equals. He never saw ya as his equal, did he?”

I shook my head. “He was never interested in my opinion. Adam makes me feel like what I have to say is worthwhile and fascinatin'.”

“Your opinions are worthwhile and fascinatin'.”

“But it ain't just that. He gets my heart racin'. There are fireworks and there's passion. He is sooo good-lookin' and sexy.” I giggled, and Angie joined in.

“Well, if there are fireworks from a kiss, just imagine the blaze there'll be when y'all have sex.” She rubbed her hands together excitedly.

Laughing at her reaction, I said, “He's waitin' for me to give the signal. I just need to find the right time.”

“So you ain't gonna catch up with Charles?”

Frowning, I shook my head. “No way. Why'd you ask?”

“Because ya called him last night and agreed to meet up soon.” She wiggled her eyebrows at me. “You were considerin' reconcilin'.”

My smile dropped instantly as a vague recollection of the phone call pushed to the front of my mind. What exactly had I said to Charles? With my head resting in hands, I tried to recall the details of the conversation. I'd told Charles I was in the Hamptons. We had agreed to catch up for lunch and I would eventually have to face him to finalize our pending divorce. I breathed a sigh of relief; there was nothing that I could remember that would lead him to think I wanted him back. Thank goodness I hadn't invited him to come visit me.

Confident that I was all right again now that Adam and I had worked out our misunderstanding, Angie made the drive home to Manhattan, leaving us to settle back into our routine, with one exception. We now knew how we felt about each other, so there were more hugs, more chaste kisses. In fact, we couldn't walk past each other without touching, whether it was a playful slap on the ass or a more obvious caress. We touched whenever possible.

Adam had spent most of the day in the bedroom painting, while I had finished drafting the remainder of my novel. It wasn't ready to show anyone, just a load of bullet points and abstract notes, but at least I now had a clear outline and knew where the story was going to end.

I stretched the kinks from my neck, rolling my shoulders forward and back, then reclined in my chair and removed my glasses. This called for celebration, and this time I was going to be the one cooking for Adam.

Not wanting to disturb Adam's creative flow, I quietly stuck my head into the bedroom. From this angle, I could see the canvas Adam was working on, and it was breathtaking. He always turned the easel to the corner when he wasn't painting, self-conscious about his “‘little hobby',” so this was the first time I'd had the chance to really see his work. But what was even better was watching him, deep in concentration, while he painted.

As usual, he was dressed in his painting jeans and nothing else. The tears and frayed edges of the fabric made them look even sexier as they afforded me little glimpses of his skin. I watched enthralled as each light brush stroke turned the white canvas into a masterpiece bursting with color. I could see the outcrop of rocks, the ocean, and the beginnings of the lighthouse. After nearly ten minutes of my watching the master at work, Adam turned to reach for more paint and saw me.

“It's not finished yet. There's still a load to do,” he explained, as if his beautiful creation needed an excuse. “I'm just messing around with it really.” He shrugged at me, then put the brush and palette down. I knew what was coming; he was going to turn it around to face the window.

“I think it's beautiful.” I walked slowly toward him. “And I think you're extremely talented.”

He shook his head, no.

“We're always our own toughest critics. We also seem to think we should be able to do more, be better. We expect ourselves to be faultless and are so hard on ourselves for not bein' perfect.” I had reached the painting. “
This
is wonderful. And what makes it so wonderful is not only your talent as an artist, but also the heart you've put into it.” My eyes scanned every inch of the canvas, trying to take it all in. “If you don't have any plans for this piece, I'd love to keep it.”

He laughed, but I could tell by the gleam in his eye that he was delighted.

“In fact, I'd like to buy it from you.”

“You don't have to do that, Buttercup. I'd happily give it to you, but I don't know why you would want it.”

“Because every time I look at it it'll remind me of this winter we've shared together, this amazin' time where our paths crossed, and it will make me smile, and probably make me cry. But mostly it will make me smile to think of how much you've helped me grow, and how much you've made me laugh, and feel for the first time in what seems like forever. It'll remind me of you.”

Adam brushed a stray hair from my face before running the backs of his fingers down my cheek tenderly. “I wish I'd met you years ago.”

“You wouldn't have liked me back then. I was a dork.”

“I'm serious, baby. I wish…I wish we'd had a lifetime together. I feel like I've wasted my life with all the wrong people.”

I held his hand to my cheek. “Me too. If I'd met you in college, my life would've been so different.”

I probably didn't truly fathom how different it would have been. To have a first love like Adam instead of Charles would have changed so many aspects of my life. To be with someone who encouraged me to write and valued me for me—I would have been confident and felt nurtured and cherished.

“Can you imagine it?” He smiled, as if he was picturing it in his mind. “I would have followed you around all over campus just to see that beautiful smile of yours.”

My heart skipped in my chest, and my vision blurred. “You wouldn't have had to follow me, Adam. I would've wanted you right by my side. You would've been the one makin' me smile.”

He pulled me in close until my head rested against his bare chest and I wrapped my arms tightly around his waist.

“Well, I'm going to treasure every moment we spend together while we're here, because every moment with you is precious. I want every second to count.”

I wanted to ask him why he only spoke of our time here. Would there really be nothing once we left the Hamptons? I could write anywhere. I could move to Philadelphia to be with him; all he had to do was ask.

His glassy eyes gazed down at me with so much warmth and affection that I couldn't raise my concerns. Instead, I rose up onto my tiptoes and kissed him softly on the lips.

“You may not think our time here is so precious after you've tasted my cookin' tonight.”

Instead of laughing, his eyes grew dark as one hand moved to hold the nape of my neck and his lips came down to mine. It felt desperate, wanting, and I willingly surrendered to his touch. As the pressure rose and our kiss became more urgent, I stepped into him, not wanting any space between us. His arm held me firmly, my fingers tangling in the belt loops of his jeans. I could feel how hard he was as he rubbed against my hip, pulling me ever closer for more friction.

“Touch me, please,” he murmured against my lips. “I want you, so much.”

Inching back, I slid my hand slowly down the front of his jeans to feel the bulge straining against the fabric. He groaned into my mouth as I stroked his length, sucking his bottom lip into my mouth.

Pulling me toward him, my foot caught on the drop sheet that had bunched on the floor, and my hand automatically shot out to catch my balance. There was a God almighty crash as the palette and brushes in water went smashing to the floor, spilling over onto the lime-washed wood.

It took a moment for my lust-filled brain to realize what had happened before we were both down on our hands and knees trying to tend to the mess.

“Don't worry, I've got it,” Adam said, noticing the panicked expression on my face. “It should wash off without a trace.” He raced into the laundry, returning a moment later with a bucket of soapy water and scrubbing brush.

I tried to calm my racing heart at the sight of the multicolored floor. It was supposed to be white, not blue and green and brown. But Adam had it under control, so I sat back on my butt, legs crossed, and watched as he carefully scrubbed the boards.

“I'm so sorry, baby. I'll clean it up, I promise. You won't even know anything was there.”

“I know ya will. I trust you.” I couldn't help chuckling as the paint seemed to be spreading instead of lessening.

Adam looked at me in surprise. “What about this do you find so amusing?” he asked as a broad grin graced his handsome face.

“See what happens when I touch your cock?”

“Yeah, all hell breaks loose.” He crawled over to me through the paint. “So technically, this is your fault.”

Before I could get away, he ran a paint-covered finger down the length of my nose. “I don't know why I should be the only one in a mess.”

“Oh, really?” Reaching over, I scooped up a blob of green paint from the boards and smeared Adam's bare chest with it.

It was on. Paint was thrown, splattered, and swirled over both of us until there was more on our bodies than on the floor.

“I'd like to paint you,” Adam declared, admiring his handiwork.

“I reckon you just did.”

He chuckled. “I mean your portrait. I usually stick to landscapes, but a seductive portrait is one of the things on my bucket list that's yet to be crossed off. Would you consider sitting for me?”

Wow, that was out of the blue, and I was so honored that he would want to immortalize me on canvas. “I'd love to.”

He nodded approvingly. “Excellent! And next time I physically paint you, I want it to be with something I can lick off.”

My face flushed, making him grin at my embarrassment. “Can you do me a favor?”

“Anything.” I could tell by his face that he meant it.

“Can you grow your beard back?”

His brow shot up in surprise.

Reaching out, I ran my hand down his smooth cheek and around his strong jaw. “I love this clean-cut Adam, but I'd like to experience everything with you, even a wicked beard rash that's so bad I can't walk for a few days, and that can't happen if ya keep shavin'.”

“Can I take a shower here?” Adam called from the bedroom.

I'd already taken my shower and thrown on a robe, not feeling comfortable enough to dress while Adam was in the bedroom. I knew it shouldn't have bothered me—he had seen me almost naked and enjoyed touching my body when we'd taken our morning swim—but being so exposed in the bedroom with him was taking it to a whole other level.

I stopped chopping the vegetables and went in to see the result of the cleanup. The floor was spotless, every trace of color removed. The same couldn't be said for Adam.

I couldn't help giggling. “Oh my goodness, Sugar, look at you. It looks like someone dumped a rainbow on your head and it ran down your body.”

“Keep laughing, my little Southern belle, and I'll come over there and give you a big hug.” He held his arms out and took a step forward. I squealed and made a dash for the door.

“Sure, you can shower here but you don't have any clean clothes.”

He gave me the most seductive smile. It was a smile that promised so much. “I don't think I'll need them.”

The rush of water through the pipes made it hard to concentrate on dinner. It wasn't anything fancy, just a thrown together casserole that was simmering away, but being the kind of person who burns toast, it was still a challenge for me. But I couldn't keep my mind on the food. Instead, all I could see was Adam's smile, and all I could think about was that he was naked in my shower right at that very second.

I was just debating whether to go in there on the pretense of providing a clean towel when he came out. Seemed he'd found a towel and it was now wrapped around his hips. His hair was wet and finger-combed so it sat messily and was tucked behind his ears.

The fire blazed, warming the entire room. Adam went and stood on the rug in front of it, giving Max a rough pat with his foot.

“How's dinner coming along?” he asked, still focusing on the dog.

“It's a little ways off, but there's wine if you'd like to pour a glass and relax.”