Deep Focus (16 page)

“I’ll give it some thought. Thanks for worrying about me.” She appreciated it, but she wasn’t sure she had a lot of options.

Hunter brushed his thumb over her bottom lip, and she leaned closer to him. “I think we are dating, aren’t we?” he asked. “I mean, I think every day we’ve been inching in that direction.”

“I agree. I think we are dating.”

“We’re insane.”

Determined not to let that be a deterrent for either of them, she nudged his leg with hers. “No. Insane would be me pushing you off this cliff.”

He laughed. “That would be a twist no one saw coming.”

Melanie wrapped her arms around his neck. “I think I’ve had enough twists for one week. I think I’d like to just hold on to you for a while, if that’s okay.”

“It’s more than okay.”

14

“I
CAN
’
T
BELIEVE
we’re going back to reality,” Melanie said, fingering her dolphin necklace as she and Hunter sat in the airport in Cancún waiting for their flight to board. She was feeling a multitude of emotions. Gratitude to Hunter for saving her vacation from disaster. Satisfaction that she had genuinely relaxed, let go, enjoyed herself. But also fear that once she got home it was all going to evaporate in the grind of the everyday. Fear, too, of having to go to Bainbridge Studios and face Ian’s nonchalance.

Hunter was playing with his phone and didn’t even glance up at her. He had put on his suit for the flight home, and it was an intriguing juxtaposition of day one and the intervening days. Now they were full circle, but back to what?

“Every day can’t be a holiday,” he said.

Thanks, Captain Obvious. Melanie mentally rolled her eyes. Of course she knew that. But she was seeking a little bit of reassurance. Men never seemed to understand that she had an internal dialogue going on in her head. She knew how she wanted a man to respond before he even spoke. Which was irrational and unfair, she realized, but that didn’t stop her from wanting Hunter to understand what she was asking.

“Where do you live?” she asked. It had suddenly occurred to her that they might be an hour apart. Not that she supposed it mattered. They were probably only going to see each other occasionally.

“Lincoln Park. You?”

“Wrigleyville.”

He was still studying his phone. She told herself to shut up. Just be quiet and worry in silence. Because this was her issue, not his. Hunter had been up front with her. He had been solicitous, sexy, kind. She didn’t want to ruin the tail end of a fabulous week with her own neuroses when she was the one who had suggested they continue seeing each other. But the problem with being a control freak was she wanted to efficiently cross items off her checklist. Dating Hunter—check. But relationships didn’t work like that. She needed to calm the hell down and let it roll. See where it went.

Hunter rolled his shoulder, raising his arm up and down a few times to loosen it up. “I’m going to get a beer. You want anything?”

“No, I’m good.” She was just going to sit there and chew her manicure off.

After he stood up, he leaned back down and gave her a soft kiss. “Stop worrying. There isn’t anything you can’t handle when you get back.”

Hunter had a way of forcing her out of herself and making her relax. She actually felt her shoulders release at his words. “Thanks. You’re right.”

When he walked away in pursuit of beer, she watched him. His gait was strong, confident. Sexy. He was gorgeous and thoughtful. She had seen and touched every inch of him, and he’d done the same to her. She wasn’t ready to let go of him. There was more fun to be had, and she hoped he genuinely felt the same way.

They had spent their last few days on the beach, body surfing, lying in the sun, reading. Making love at night for hours until they were both exhausted and satisfied on every level. Melanie wondered if she had become too attached. If she was expecting something from Hunter that he couldn’t give her, like he had suggested.

What did she want, exactly?

Her phone dinged in her bag, and she pulled it out. Hunter had forwarded her the hammock pictures from a couple nights earlier. It amazed her how flushed and glassy eyed she looked in them. As if she was content on every level.

But even more startling was the one where Hunter was gazing at her.

That one took her breath away.

His lips were turned up in a soft smile, and he leaned toward her, as though he couldn’t possibly get close enough.

Was this what casual sex looked like?

Somehow she didn’t think so.

She wasn’t just getting attached to Hunter—she was falling in love with him.

The realization robbed her of her breath. She’d gone and fallen in love with her bodyguard turned temporary lover.

But she couldn’t help it. They had spent over six straight days together, in each other’s company almost every minute. They had talked, laughed; he had reassured her, comforted her, encouraged her. She had done things she wouldn’t have been able to do without him, from zip-lining to really exploring her sexual freedom.

She had opened herself up to him, and what had sprung from that were feelings she in no way expected. It was nuts to fall in love with a man she had only known for a week. But maybe when you stripped the real world away and spent time with someone in close proximity, you stopped playing games. You stopped shielding yourself from disappointment. You let down all your defenses and really got to know the person. The real him.

It was that Hunter that had captured her heart.

It was the Hunter that, despite her saying she didn’t want anything, brought a banana back with him.

“They don’t feed us on the plane,” he said by way of explanation as he handed her the fruit. He winked. “And I know what you can do to a banana. If it’s not your favorite, it’s certainly mine.”

That made her laugh, worries temporarily eased. He was good for her. There was no doubt about it.

“Thanks.” She put the banana in her lap.

He eyed her crotch and raised his eyebrows up and down.

Hunter would think she was insane if she told him she was in love with him. He’d run for the hills. Refuse to board the plane with her.

Or maybe he would say he felt the same way.

Their boarding call was announced, and Hunter held his hand out to her with a smile. “Let’s go,” he said.

She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t tell him.

Apparently, she hadn’t entirely learned how to let go on this vacation. She couldn’t make herself that vulnerable and risk having him recoil from her. At least not before a three-hour flight home.

So she took his hand and smiled, but stayed silent. It was all about timing. She’d know when it was right to tell him more about how she felt. This wasn’t a cop-out. It was playing the game strategically.

After takeoff, Hunter encouraged her to lay her head down on his lap so she could stretch out. Staring up at him, she smiled. “What are your plans for the rest of the weekend?” she asked, as a not-so-subtle attempt to have him suggest they do something together.

The corner of his mouth tilted up as though he knew exactly what she was getting at. “Whatever you’re doing.”

That worked for her. It was a little late to play coy, but she still teased, “Oh. I was just planning to do some laundry.”

“What do you need clothes for?” Then his eyes widened and his nostrils flared, which she recognized as his shift into sexy thoughts. “You can open the door for me wearing high-heeled boots and a winter coat and nothing else.”

Oh, yeah, he was going there. She felt the evidence of it growing right next to her ear. Melanie sat up, flustered in a good way. “I’m sure that can be arranged. How about dinner, tomorrow night, my place?”

She’d ply him with risotto and merlot and Melly moves, and then months from now, if they were still dating, she would reinvestigate the whole issue of whether or not she was truly in love with him.

Having a plan made her feel better.

Everything was easier with a plan.

It completely defeated the purpose of letting go on vacation, putting her emotions in the same lockbox they’d occupied for the past decade, but it was forward progress of some sort. In a manner of speaking.

Melanie turned on her phone after they’d landed. It was the first time she’d checked it in a week, and she found dozens of emails along with a number of texts, including one from Ian sent several days earlier.

I’m sorry.

That was it. Just a generic apology.

As she parted ways with Hunter at the taxi queue with a brief kiss, she wondered grimly if playing it safe was going to land her in the same position all over again. Nothing had changed in her life, and it was deflating.

It was sleeting outside. Cold, icy water along with a winter wind pelted her in the face as she climbed out of the cab in front of her apartment building.

Melanie suddenly wasn’t sure about anything. She kept asking herself what she wanted, and she honest to God didn’t know the answer. And she didn’t know how to find out.

* * *

I
F
H
UNTER
HAD
known he wasn’t going to see Melanie for five days, he would have given her a better kiss as they parted ways at the airport. He had been expecting a full weekend with her, but en route to his apartment he’d gotten a call from his boss. He had put him on a job for Saturday and Sunday, which Hunter wasn’t in any position to refuse, and then once the workweek had started Melanie had been occupied with other plans—something with a girlfriend Monday evening and a work event on Tuesday. So here it was Wednesday at eight o’clock at night, and he was just taking the stairs to her apartment to see her for the first time.

He wasn’t going to lie. He felt both excited to see her and uncomfortable. It was different being back home. There was no mariachi band, no bikinis, no fruity cocktails. There was just work, a relentless winter and no real knowledge of each other beyond vacation time. They hadn’t even talked on the phone. Just texts. Hunter felt with each day that passed there was a distance growing between them, removing bit by bit the ease they’d felt together. There had been a lot of thinking time, and in those days he had wondered yet again if dating Melanie now was a mistake. Shouldn’t she be taking some time and making sure this was what she wanted instead of diving into dating him a hot minute after her breakup?

When Melanie opened her door to him, she looked as uneasy as he felt. “Hi,” she said softly, her smile tentative. “Come on in. Do you want some wine?”

“Um, sure.” He didn’t want wine, but what the hell? He kicked off his slushy boots and followed her down the narrow hallway. Her apartment was small and cozy, but lacking in personality in a way he hadn’t expected. It was very beige and neutral. “I can open the bottle for you.”

“I’ve got it.” She gave a little laugh as she moved into the tiny kitchen. “I’ve already been into it, to be honest. I just poured my second glass.”

It didn’t seem right—Hunter felt as though he knew Melanie so well, yet here he was seeing where she lived for the very first time. She had dish towels with apples on them, which struck him as odd. He wouldn’t have pegged her as a kitschy kitchen kind of girl.

The hell with this tiptoeing-around-each-other crap. Hunter had touched and tasted every single inch of her. She stood with her back to him and he slid in behind her, lifting her hair to kiss the back of her neck. She jumped with such a jerk her wineglass skittered across the countertop and spilled.

“Damn!” she said, still not looking at him as she scooted past to tear a paper towel off the roll and mop up the mess.

“I’m sorry,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets. He was still wearing his coat over his jeans and thermal shirt, and he peeled the outer layer off and tossed it on the back of a chair, needing something to do. He felt restless. “How has work been?”

“Fine.” She finally stopped fussing and turned to hand him a glass of wine. “You?”

They were doing this. The whole polite conversation crap. Like two total strangers. “It’s a job,” he said with a shrug. “Now come here, Melly.”

“What?” she asked, flustered. The wineglass was between them like a shield.

“What do you mean, what?” The question irritated him. “I want a kiss.”

“Oh.” Her cheeks turned pink.

She was wearing a tight sweater in an oatmeal color, but the neck was so damn high he’d never achieve any access to her skin by going that route. So he decided to approach from below. Taking the glass out of her hand, he tossed half his wine back with one swallow before setting it aside and advancing on her until she bumped up against the counter. He thought she would reach for him, but she didn’t. If anything, she had the look of hunted prey. It instantly killed his arousal.

“What’s wrong?” he asked her, his voice sounding gruffer than he intended. He was on uneven ground here, not sure how to proceed. He’d never taken an affair to the dating stage before. Hell, he’d never had an affair. He’d had a couple of one-night stands, and then three fairly serious relationships. This was uncharted territory, and frankly, he wasn’t enjoying it.

“Nothing is wrong,” she whispered. For the first time, she actually looked him in the eye. “I’m just embarrassed.”

Again, not a promising beginning to the evening. “About what?”

“I don’t know.”

Helpful. This was exactly what he had been afraid of. “Is there something you need to tell me, or talk about? You can tell me anything, you know that.”

There it was. He heard it. He’d gone right back into the role of counselor.

“It’s just that I don’t feel as though I should talk to you about Ian.”

No. No, she shouldn’t. Because he really didn’t want to hear it. Yet if she needed to talk, how could he tell her no? “Whatever is on your mind.”

Melanie poured herself a new glass of wine to replace what had been spilled. She sipped it and appeared to weigh her words. “I told him I slept with you. I know it was inappropriate, and I shouldn’t have done that without letting you know but...”

Hunter’s stomach clenched. “But you wanted to hurt him. Or at least let him know that you weren’t sitting around crying.” It was a natural response; he understood that. But it confirmed what he’d been afraid of—that she wasn’t in any position to be starting a new relationship. Not yet. Melanie needed time to process what had happened with Ian and to heal. Just because she hadn’t loved him didn’t mean she didn’t have emotions she needed to put to bed.

“I did, which is petty.”

It had also put Hunter’s job in jeopardy, but he wasn’t going to point that out. Melanie looked miserable enough as it was. He wasn’t going to add to her burden. Which meant that he was going to retreat on this whole dating thing. She wasn’t ready for this. Hell, he wasn’t ready for this. He was too damn worried he was going to hurt her. Not to mention he couldn’t stand there like an idiot and listen to her talk about her ex when she hadn’t even kissed him yet.