Conditional Offer (19 page)

Then Suzanne. She'd dropped into his life at such an odd time. The way they had hit it off, her easy, breezy manner at first disguising her inner unhappiness. How he had taken the task of making her happy, with him preferably, to heart. How he had, for a while. Until she'd flip out over the whole family or baby thing.
Jesus.
He ran a shaking hand down his face, realized he hadn't eaten since the morning. Groaning, he got to his feet, made his wobbly way back to the towel stand and nearly plowed right over her.

She stood in the shadows, near the small locker room door. Her petite frame seemed even more so, eyes huge, face gaunt. She gripped her elbows, bit her lip. He stumbled, caught himself and stepped away from her. Anger made his jaw ache. "How did you get in here?"

She sucked in a breath and squared her shoulders. His heart started a slow meltdown that made him shiver, and his cock instantly hard. He wrapped a towel around his waist and put more distance between them.

"I miss you." Her words spoke volumes. But he was not about to go there again.

"Really." He crossed his arms over his chest, wincing at the tightness in his swimsuit. "Oh, well." He attempted nonchalance. Her face revealed nothing but unhappiness. He steeled himself against it.

"Don't, Craig. This is hard enough."

He couldn't help himself or hold back the derisive snort. "
You
are telling
me
how hard this is? Priceless."

"Listen," she took a step towards him but he stood, nearly tripped as he kept the chair between them. The hand she'd been using to reach for him shook. A wave of forgiving remorse nearly bowled him over. But he hardened himself against it.
No. He wouldn't cave. Not again.

"Leave my condo key on the table on your way out." He growled, turning away. She moved fast, surprising him, darting around the chair as if they were playing tag and wrapping her arms around his neck, going up on her tiptoes to reach his lips. But he turned his head. "I will not be played Suzanne. I can't. Jesus. That poor bastard Blake. Now I know how he felt."

She jumped back as if he'd struck her. The sadness in her eyes flipped to anger. They stood, fury swirling between them. Then she spoke. "No, Craig. You have no idea how he felt. It's my fault I keep projecting my relationship with him onto us. I…deserved that."

"Yeah, I know. It's why I said it." His teeth ground together. He forced himself to stop. To settle his face into neutral "who gives a shit" lines. It was harder than it looked.

She swallowed hard, looked down, then back up into his eyes, nearly making him fall over with the force of emotion in her next words.  "I realized something this week." She took a seat, leaving just a few inches between them. As a defensive mechanism he sat, increasing the space. For his own good. The need to sweep her into his arms, to quell the increasing agony in her eyes with one kiss very nearly overwhelmed him.

"What's that? You're an emotionally stunted grown woman hiding behind the screen of abuse by a guy, who is not me, to keep from realizing that you actually do love me?" He spoke to the ceiling. Not caring if she heard him or not. Then he met her gaze.

She glared at him then smiled. He mirrored her, unable to stop. "Cut that out," he forced himself to sound pissed.

"Cut what out?"

He leaned back, bringing fresh blood to his already aching cock. "I'm righteously indignant. And I'm not taking you back. So just stop trying." He rose, but she put a hand on his knee. He started to push her away. But with a strength he didn't realize she had, she pushed him down onto his back. She straddled him, propping herself on the lounge chair arms. Her eyes were dark. It took everything he had not to yank her down, to fuck her silly. To not communicate, but connect…just once more.

She thumbed his chin, made him turn and face her. "I need you. Can I get a mulligan? I…." But he pushed her back.

"No. You can't. Seriously, Suzanne. Just get the hell out."

She got to her feet and with a couple of quick movements stood before him utterly naked. He groaned, and put a hand over his eyes, tried to force out the image burned into his retinas--the porcelain flawlessness of her skin, the hard peaks of her dark pink nipples, the red hair she'd let grow, curving around her face, and the light dusting of fire covering her sex. He opened his eyes at the splash. She cut through the water with ease, her lithe form moving the way he'd taught her all those hours they'd spent here together.   He curled his hands into fists. Got to his feet, his head light from lack of blood and cock aching from an overabundance of it.

In a daze, he tugged his suit down, stepped out of it and dove in the deep end, loving the way the cool water caressed his nudity. They passed each other again and again. He focused on moving his body, not grabbing her like he wanted to so very badly. After a while, he lost track of time. There was nothing but the water – the sounds in his ears, the smell in his nose, his muscles trembling with lack of protein and too much exertion. He grabbed the side, leaned on his arms and tried to catch his breath.

Her touch made him shiver but he didn't care. Not anymore. He moved in front of her, braced himself on either side of her, propping her under her arms. "No fair." He exhaled before slanting his mouth over her. Losing himself in her scent, her sounds, hating himself but unable to stop.

Suzanne's entire body hummed, her ears were fuzzy and still half-full of water. When he faced her, stared into her eyes, she had a glimmer of hope. A small corner of maybe that she nestled into needing it so much she wanted to cry. He blew out a puff of air. Closed his eyes as if denying what he was about to do. "No fair," he sighed into her mouth. The touch of his lips to hers was more perfect than it had ever been. In all the many moments of intimacy they'd shared, this one seemed like destiny.

Don't be a hysteric Victorian over dramatizing everything.

 But oh, how much she missed him.

She wrapped her entire body around him. Arms, legs, lips, tongues, teeth, all tangled in an urgent swirl. She gasped, loving the sensation of his length at the sudden tilt and thrust of his hips.  "God." She sighed, pressing against him.

"Still just me, actually," He pulled out slow, teasing her, then shoved in high and hard, never taking his eyes from hers. A tear fell, he kissed it away, his lips soft, in distinct contrast to his lower body which had taken on an edge of urgency. She met him thrust for thrust, dug her fingers into his shoulders.

"Harder," she whispered.

He flipped around so he was leaning against the wall. Put his hands on her hips and ground against her before threading a hand in her hair and yanking her face to his. "Is this it then?" his voice was so rough she barely understood him. His lips were so firm, his tongue so damn delicious. "One last fuck?"

She broke away, lifted up and slid back down onto his shaft. The orgasm hovered, just out of reach. Her brain tried to shut down but she was so happy to be here, back with him. Reasons and motivations be damned. This was where she belonged and she could finally admit it. "I love you. So much Craig. Please. Ah…shit."

She wrapped her arms around his head, held him close as he took one of her nipples between his lips. He sucked hard, dragging that orgasm kicking and screaming out into the light of day. She groaned as her body shuddered and her vision dimmed. The sheer rightness, the utter completeness crawled up her spine, settled in behind her eyes making them leak yet more infernal tears.

"Gonna come. I'm… Jesus." He pushed hard into her, reaching high and she felt him, sensed his cock stiffen, jerk and spill. This time, no image of unattainable baby made her gasp. A different vision spilled into her brain. She and Craig, together. Just the two of them.

His hips kept moving into her. Their bodies stayed intertwined. He met her lips, kissed her but just as she was about to wind her fingers in his hair he lifted her up and off him, then swam away a few feet. She held onto the side a sudden panic in her chest. "Craig," she whispered. "I love you."

He lifted himself out of the water. Giving her a full glimpse of the lean, tone of his body. His silence scared her. She leaned on the side, chin on her hands, watching him. "Did you hear me or are you just – "

He whirled on her, his dark eyes unfathomable, which told her all she needed to know. "Ignoring you? No Suzanne. I'm not ignoring you. But I don't know…." he dropped back into the seat.

She climbed out, the reticence she'd used for so long with him slipping back into place. She frowned at herself.
Stop it Suzanne. Don't hold back. This is your last fucking chance.

She wrapped a towel around herself, stood in front of him. Expecting him to hold out his arms to her, she reminded herself that she deserved this. Every minute of his cold shoulder she had earned, in spades. She slipped onto his lap and buried her nose in his neck. "I know. I do know. But I want this. I want to make it work. I…."

He shoved her to the seat, off his lap, surprising her with his roughness. She frowned at his back, still trying to remain humble, to make amends for her bullshit. So many years of holding him off. Of making his dark eyes hurt. Of disappointing him. She wrapped her arms around her knees, at a loss. "Does it matter that I want this? That I'm sorry? That I love you?"

He shouldered his way into the locker room without a word. She bit her lip. By the time he'd emerged she'd redressed. He put his hands on his now jeans clad hips. She resisted the urge to just go to him. To lick the line of pool water that dripped from his hair onto his neck. "It matters." He kept his voice low. "Just like it mattered to you. How much I loved you. How many times I said it. How much I tried to convince you that you were exactly what I wanted."

She sucked in a breath. But he held up a hand. "Let me finish." He closed the gap between them, gripped her arms and kissed her, bringing light to the edges of her vision. She gasped when he tore his lips away. "But I don't think we can do this. I have to … I need … someone who loves me not because she feels sorry for herself or for me. But because she really, truly loves me."

"I do... I – " he put two fingers over her lips cutting her off.

"No. You don't. But I had fun and all." His dark eyes were cold but it was nothing compared to the moment when he turned and left her there, alone, without another word or even a backward glance.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

One Month Later

Suzanne lay in the bed for nearly a half second too long. She lurched up and stumbled into the bathroom of her small downtown condo. The room spun, the floor seemed to rise and meet her. She clutched at the toilet for dear life and let the contents of her stomach empty. Her gut clenched. She groaned and rinsed her mouth out.

Waiting for the room to settle, she did a mental recount of the booze from the night before. It was no real surprise she'd lost her cookies. She'd sat with Evan and Julie and a bunch of Tap Room regulars, drank way to much beer, then switched to bourbon much too late for grownups. But typically, after a quick hurl she could throw it off. That "quick hurl" happened, like three hours ago. She couldn't seem to stop. "Damn." She gulped water straight from the faucet, trying to ease her severe dry mouth.

The floor of the bathroom had never looked so comfy. She slid down the wall, gathered a towel in her arms and cried. By the time she got past that sudden burst of emotion she hauled herself to her feet. Wobbling her way into the kitchen she choked down some saltines, made some weak tea. Her phone rang, but she ignored it after assessing it was once again, not Craig. He would not return her calls, her emails, anything. She truly had blown it. Their paths never crossed. She worked on autopilot most days, growing the brewery sales, doing her job. Came home and collapsed after sending yet one more unanswered email to him.

The fierce determination that had fueled her was fading. And she hated it. Jack texted her.
"Hey. Can you talk?"

She grabbed the phone in no mood for Gordon drama.
"No."

He called within seconds. "What?" She barked into the device.

"What's wrong?"

"Oh, you know, I just managed to toss away the most amazing man in the universe. Twice. And this one I could get back. But he won't return my calls."

"Ah the esteemed doctor."

"Yeah. So I go to my original question – what?"

"Want me to talk to him?"

"Jesus, Jack, no. Stay out of it. You have your own issues."

"Um, well, okay." He stayed silent.

"Okay." She shut her eyes. "You and Sara are – "

"Working through it. Truly. I nearly got my shit kicked by my good buddy, Rob. We went away for a week. She read me the riot act then had a small nervous breakdown. The usual. But things are better."

His voice sounded steady for the first time in months. She smiled. "Things all set for the memorial weekend, right?"

"Yeah, I have B&B names and –"

"I already know where I can stay." She shut her eyes to block the onrush of memories.

"All right. You and the good doctor, if you want him to be there."

She sighed, rose and had to run to the bathroom as the few bites of food she'd ingested decided to make a sudden reappearance. "I gotta go," She choked out. "I'll be there."

It was a close run thing, but she made it to the toilet just in time.

She brushed her teeth, trying not to gag on toothpaste, and wiped her face. Her eyes were sunk in their sockets, her face pale. She looked like shit and felt just as bad. When the doorbell rang she nearly jumped a mile. Then made her slow way across the living room, and peered through the peephole at an unfamiliar couple standing in the hall. She opened the door, ordering herself to not be sick all over their shoes. "Hi, can I help you?

"Yes, Hi. Sorry to barge in on you but…" the woman held out a hand. "I'm Lillian. Craig's sister-in-law."

Suzanne's shoulders slumped as she took in the tall blonde-haired, dark-eyed man next to her who could be none other than Craig's brother. "Hi, I'm Rick," he said. His lopsided grin looked exactly like Craig's.