Ethan (14 page)

“I need you to be here with me.”

“I am, honey
,” he assured her. His arms tightened around her, drawing her closer so that her lush curves softened against his harder plains.

“I mean—” she paused and Ethan became more alert. Shae never had to search for words.

“Anything you need, sweetheart,” he promised.

“I need you.
You know, the traditional way?”

“Where
you’re under me and I’m inside you and we blow apart together?”

She nodded. “Exactly. That’s what I
need that right now.”

Her vulnerability and complete lack of care in protecting herself pulled at
a tenderness in him. “It will be my pleasure, Shae.” He rolled so that she was under him. “You know how I love tradition.”

Chapter Fourteen

Shae was stepping out of the shower when she heard the rise of female voices. Ethan’
s family had arrived and it gave Shae’s already churned nerves a chance to dance down her spine. She wrapped herself in a thick towel and caught her reflection in the mirror. There was a startled look to her eyes, color high in her cheeks, but her face was otherwise a wash.

So this was what it looked like to be in love.

And to be so shocked by the revelation she thought she might hurl into the toilet.

Love was not on her agenda, the same way a baby was not on Ethan’s.

She’d devoted her twenties to making it in her career and had sought, with what little time remained outside that goal, that wonderful relationship. It hadn’t happened. She’d made her peace with that and was moving forward. Now she was knee-deep in making another dream come true.

Ethan was
healing. He’d made significant strides in that direction. She’d witnessed it herself, the way he’d confronted the difficult moments in his marriage, accepted his role in it, and moved on, wiser. He was more relaxed, less distant.

Well, after this afternoon
she could say with certainty that not so much as an inch separated them emotionally. She knew that was true for her and she had glimpsed it, in a moment of stark vulnerability, in Ethan.

But they were in
different places in their lives. Vastly different. They were, in fact, miles

apart. And that’s what Shae needed to do now—separate herself from Ethan, at least for the few days she would have in San Francisco. The time apart would help her gain the perspective she so badly needed.

Because no matter what she felt for Ethan, he was not ready to fall in love with her. That, she knew, was impossible. It would require presence. And how could he develop such deep feelings for her when his heart was already involved in settling his past?

She was leaving tomorrow evening for the two hour drive back to Los Angeles. She would catch the six am flight the next morning to San Francisco and make it with plenty of time for her three-thirty appointment at the clinic.

Before she lost the nerve, she padded from the bathroom to the adjoining guest room and found her cell phone in the pocket of her jeans. She was staying at the Saint Francis Drake Hotel while in The City and she called to extend her two-day stay to four. Then she located the Mill Valley real estate agent she planned to use in her list of contacts and
asked her to set up some viewings for homes that met her preferences. Last, she connected with the airline and arranged her return flight for Monday morning. In all, that would give her four-plus days submerged in the plans that would deliver the future she wanted. She needed this period of adjustment, and maybe when she returned to Los Angeles she would find her focus firmly in place.

Or maybe she was as guilty of running right now as Ethan was in his past.

She tried to shake the thought off. This was not the time for emotional entanglements.

She dried off
, combed through her hair, and slipped into the sundress she’d worn when she’d arrived—she was growing weary of wearing the same clothes. It’d already been a week and she had picked up a few things in town before one of their surf evenings, but she wanted her things. She needed her usual trappings of home. She needed a home, period. It would ground her. She’d have a place to ease into every day. She could drink from her familiar coffee cup every morning and gaze at her favorite paintings in the afternoons, when she was vegging on her couch, troubleshooting the days’ writing.

She was too much in Ethan’s world—inside his head and heart through his memories and surrounded by his physical world every moment. It was beginning to feel like she’d already found a comfortable place of being.

And that was dangerous. This wasn’t her home. Ethan wasn’t her future.

A knock on the bedroom door interrupted her thoughts.

“Shae?”

It was Ethan. He’d stepped into the shower with her, but hustled through bathing so that he could straighten the kitchen, where they’d left their lunch dishes in the sink, and lock the office door.
Shae couldn’t remember, but it was possible they had left some clothing in there.

She walked to the door and turned the lock. Then stepped back and smoothed her hands down the sides of her dress. She had used Ethan’s washer and dryer—several times—so her clothes were clean. Still, she wished she had some of her trendier outfits with her. Meeting his family
en mass made her distinctly uncomfortable.

“Come in,” she called softly and watched the door inch open and Ethan pop his head into the room.

His eyes grew heated as they ran over her body. He drew up to his full height and entered the room.

“You coming?”

“I thought I’d put a little make up on first.” Very little. Eye shadow and lip gloss was all she had with her.

“You don’t need it.”

He closed the door and leaned against it. He wore a short-sleeved Henley with the top buttons open over the column of his throat. The thin cotton stretched over his pecs and shoulders. Shae’s body clenched in response. He was undeniably sexy. Turning away was her only form of defense.

“But I’d feel better if I had it on.” She walked to the dresser and chose a lip gloss from several—they were her
cosmetic weakness. She liked pale colors, a cream base with SPF, and a matte shine.

“Are you nervous?”

Shae uncapped the gloss and ran the tip over her lips. Through the mirror, she watched Ethan approach. Even though she could read his intentions in his gaze, her body stiffened when he stopped merely inches from her and slid his arms around her waist.

She tried to smile, but it wobbled. “Sure,” she said.

He frowned.

“My family are an easy bunch,” he promised.

He pulled her back into his embrace and buried his face in her neck. Despite her best intentions—of remembering just how dangerous it was, allowing anything solid to build in this artificial world—watching Ethan’s mouth move across her skin, his fingers slip under the strap of her dress to move it aside, made heat uncurl in her veins. She loved the breadth of his shoulders, their brawny strength, and the way they made her feel delicate and feminine and allowed her head to fall back against him. Why did it have to feel so right?

She lifted her hand and tunneled it into his blond hair. And felt him stir against her backside. It seemed impossible. They’d spent the past three hours making love
. They had given each other incredible, blinding orgasms, sure. But she had asked for and he had given her a coupling that was far more emotional than sexual. Remembering his tenderness now made tears press against her eyes.

Ethan was a complex man. He was strong and tender, thoughtful and giving. And when he came to terms with his past, he would make a woman incredibly happy. But it wouldn’t be her.

“Writers are naturally introverted,” Shae said, picking up the threads of their conversation. Her voice was thick with the passion he was igniting and the tears she was repressing.

She had to get through dinner with his family and a night of lovemaking
with Ethan. Their last night as lovers? Probably. When she returned from San Francisco she was going to do her best to wear blinders, practice tunnel-vision—her focus was her baby and the new life awaiting her.

She caught his h
ands as they drifted from her shoulders, down her arms, and settled on her waist.

“Let’s do it,” she said, and side-stepped out of Ethan’s arms.

She turned in time to catch the confusion blooming on his face.

“Shae?”

“I just don’t want to go out there all worked up, all right?”

His eyes moved over her face, clearly trying to read her emotions, but they were such a jumble that Shae had trouble understanding herself.

“Is that all it is?” He stuffed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and confusion became concern. “You’ve already met Eva.”

“I have. And I like her.” She rubbed her palms against the soft material of her dress. Her nerves had very little to do with meeting and mingling with his family—she’d h
ad plenty of practice with that. Hollywood was, after all, party central. “I’m sure I’ll like them all.”

He stepped toward her and took h
er hand. “You will,” he assured her. “We’re all really very likeable.”

He heart caught on his smile and Shae knew she was in for a very long night.

Ethan stayed close to Shae most of the evening. Despite her worries, she moved among his family with ease. She greeted and smiled and chatted and Ethan began to wonder if the nerves he’d witness in the bedroom earlier were rooted in something else entirely. Like perhaps their lovemaking. They had come together, Ethan moved by a tenderness he didn’t remember ever feeling before. It had taken them to another level, where emotion was bared and shared. It had unnerved him, too.

Not even with Tina had he felt this deep
stirring, tapped into this river of swift currents and peaceful eddies that was Shae. But he had been a kid when he met and fell in love with Tina. He had been eager and blind. And later, too overwhelmed to commit to any action that would heal or end them. He had matured, thank God, and was seeking now, rather than hiding from his emotions.

The automatic lights flashed on and Ethan looked up.

The brilliant pastels of sunset were fading into indigo as he stood behind the poolside bar, mixing drinks. The storm had passed along with the cloud cover, leaving the occasional strong wind that blew through, filling the table umbrellas, but, as typical with Southern California, no rain. His mother sat on the edge of the pool while Rob, her boyfriend, tread water below her. Eva and Dylan cuddled on a lounger and Emme and Shae sat a at bistro table waiting for him to deliver their drink order—two Mai Tai’s. Ethan watched them together. They were becoming fast friends, their heads tilted towards each other as they shared the details of their lives.

Emme needed a friend. She was still healing from a broken engagement. The spineless fool l
eft Emme waiting at the church and anger pounded through Ethan as he remembered the minutes building into hours and concern turning into heartbreaking realization for his sister. He had wanted to hunt down the man and drag his ass back to San Diego where he would face all the people who had waited for them in the church.

Instead, Ethan, still dressed in his tux, had stood before the guests and explained that the wedding wasn’t taking place. He had stood at the receiving table and handed back gifts. And later, he had sat with Emme wh
ile she cried herself to sleep.

Somehow, Emme had found something to love about the man and she had been devastated
by his defection. A year had since passed and his sister was slowly returning to the gentle, spirited woman she’d been prior to the experience.

It was surprising, but so heartwarming, to hear his sister’s laughter across the pool and look up to see her clutching Shae’
s arm and enjoying the joke or story they’d shared.

“They’re connecting, aren’t they?”

Ethan was so intent on the developments across the pool that he hadn’t noticed his mother approach. He turned and smiled at her.

Adele Abrams
was a tall woman with bold features. She had silver blond hair that she was now, at the age of fifty-six, forced to touch-up every few weeks. She was trim, but strong and had stepped up to lead the family with confidence when Ethan’s father passed away eight years ago from a massive heart attack.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” he returned.

“I hope so,” Adele observed. “If Shae is here to stay?” She made the comment a question and searched Ethan’s face for any sign of the future.

“I don’t know myself,” he admitted.

“Why not?”

He shrugged, not just a little bit uncomfortable. “We’ve known each other a week,” he pointed out. “I’m still figuring out what caused the end of my marriage.” He would not repeat
that mistake. “She has. . .other plans.”

“Plans change all the time, with the right incentive,” his mother returned. “And you know what caused the end, Ethan. I think what you’re looking for is
locked up inside Tina. Why did she take her own life? What was so miserable about her life with you, that she strayed and then drove in front of that train?”

“Wow, you practicing for the Golden Gloves?”

“It’s been ten years, honey. You’re made of sterner stuff than this. Look at it. It’ll hurt. But you’ll make your way through it and then take the fresh start life is offering you.”

“I screwed up.”

But his mother shook her head. “You loved her. And you were young. As far as you were concerned, she could do no wrong. But people aren’t meant to be placed on a pedestal, Ethan. We always topple and sometimes the fall is fatal.”

Meaning, once Ethan was done with Tina, she couldn’t survive the fall? Isn’t that what he suspected all along? That his refusal to take her back had caused her to end her life?

“So how did you see Tina?”