“You know this is insane, right?”
As she sat on the bed, in the very spot that Damien had occupied not more than sixty seconds ago, Ms. Olivia Winston’s large brown eyes were filled with concern.
Tess’s business partner, chef extraordinaire and, after today, nearly a class-C felon, made no bones about what was to be done. “I’m taking you home right now.”
“I can’t go now,” Tess told her.
Olivia frowned. “Can’t? Is this guy keeping you here against your—”
“No, no, no. I hurt my foot during the renovation and he’s…helping me out.” She wondered where Damien was now. He’d been very polite to Olivia, the woman who had broken down his door, before leaving the room.
Olivia took a deep breath and blew it out. “Jeez, Tess. When the hospital called looking for you, I completely freaked out—”
“Wait…the hospital called you?”
“Called the office. It was the number you gave on the form in the emergency room.” She said the last two words with real feeling.
Tess leaned back against the pillows, cocked her head to one side. “I’m sorry you got scared. It’s just a cut. I had a few stitches, and I should be up and moving by tomorrow.”
Olivia took a moment to process the information, then seeming somewhat pacified, she asked, “So, are you okay here—I mean, barring the foot. This guy is cool?”
“He’s fine.”
“Yeah, he is fine,” Olivia said dryly, “gorgeous even—but is he treating you well?”
Tess laughed. “Very well. Don’t worry.”
“Come on, Tess. You’re in a client’s house, a guy who’s basically a stranger. It’s not right. I really think you should pack it in and come home.”
Tess chewed her lip. She didn’t want to go there, didn’t want to tell her partner the truth. But Olivia looked as though she wasn’t about to let up on the subject. “Listen, Liv, Damien Sauer isn’t just a client, and he’s definitely not a stranger.”
Olivia’s brows knit together. “Oh?”
“We used to be an item, back in my college days.”
Her brows relaxed. “Oh.”
“Yeah, he wanted me to renovate the house. It was the first house he bought back in the day when we were dating, and we spent a lot of time there…So I really know the ins and outs of the place.”
She shrugged. “Well then, it makes sense that he’d want to hire you.”
Tess gave Olivia a tight smile.
But Olivia wasn’t done with the questions. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
The reason was right there, on the tip of her tongue, and that’s where it remained. She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
The three partners of No Ring Required had secrets in their past and in their present, and each had done her very best to keep those secrets hidden. But as Tess knew, and Olivia and Mary as well, eventually those secrets had a way of coming out. Maybe knowledge of that was what kept Olivia from prying and pressing Tess for more. Whatever it was, Tess was thankful.
“So,” Olivia said, “do you at least want me to stay and help you finish the house?”
Tess kind of did, but she knew that Damien would never allow Olivia to stay and help her. He wanted Tess, and only Tess, to make the house into a home. She smiled at Olivia. “No. Thanks though. It’s something…I have to do myself. You understand.”
“Not really, but I’ll take your word for it.”
Tess pointed at her. “Hey, aren’t you the only one at the office right now?”
“Yep.”
“Well then, we need you there.” Tess paused, thought of something that had the nerves in her stomach dancing. “You didn’t call Mary when the hospital called you, did you?”
Olivia shook her head. “No. I thought I’d wait and see what was going on here before I interrupted her honeymoon.”
“Good.” Things had really changed with her partners. Five years ago they hardly spoke unless it was work related. And look at them now.
A bashful grin curved Tess’s mouth as she looked at Olivia. “I can’t believe you came here.”
“Why?”
“We’re business partners—”
Olivia leaned in and took a fry from Tess’s plate. “If you say we’re not friends I’m going to slap you—which would incidentally not be the greatest thing for your recovery.”
Tess laughed. “No. It wouldn’t.”
Nibbling on the cold fry, Olivia said, “Listen, Tess, the three of us—you and Mary and I—we might’ve started out as ‘just business partners,’ but I think we’re way more than that now. I think we’ve all been through a lot together. We’ve all come from something…maybe something not so great, something we want to continue to run from, but I think maybe it binds us.”
Tess nodded. “Maybe.”
“I believe we got together for a reason. And I hope we’re friends now.” She gave Tess a coy smile. “You know, I’m thinking that maybe it’s not such a bad thing to have each other to lean on.”
Olivia’s words were passionate and truthful, and hard for Tess to ingest. Right now, anyway. Too much was happening with Damien and the ghosts of the past that he had brought with him. For now, Tess could only nod at her partner, but she hoped that Olivia would understand her small gesture, take it as a sign, a first step toward a future, a friendship.
And in Olivia’s way, she did. Smiling, she pointed to Tess’s plate and the Croque Monsieur. “Can I have a bite of that?”
“Of course.” Tess handed her the uneaten half.
After taking a bite, Olivia sighed. “So good.”
“I know, right?” Tess said, laughing.
“I can’t believe you’re supplying my food here. I left the office too quickly to make anything—you know how much I hate going anywhere without a food offering.”
Tess nodded, said with mock seriousness, “I do. You’re freakish that way.”
Olivia narrowed her eyes. “Watch it, or you won’t get any of the truffles I brought. I had them stashed in the freezer, so I could grab them quickly.”
“You’re such a sugar tease, Liv.”
“So I’ve heard.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a square Tupperware, then she handed it to Tess. “Go nuts, Miz York.”
Smiling, Tess settled back against the pillow, a Tupperware full of chocolate truffles against her chest. “So, how many clients are you juggling right now?”
“Three.”
“Oh, man. You should get back.”
“Not until I know you’re all right.”
“I’m fine.”
Again Olivia narrowed her eyes. “You like being with this guy, don’t you?”
Tess heard the question, but was too busy dealing with the shot of awareness that was rolling through her body to answer right away.
Olivia just sighed. “All three of us are raving lunatics when it comes to men. No common sense, no thinking things through—just allowing the beautiful man to sweep us away into a fantasy—”
“So, how is Mac, by the way?” Tess asked dryly.
“Wonderful. But he’s such a guy. Did I tell you about his obsession with this portable driving range I bought him?”
“It’s winter.”
Olivia sighed. “He has it set up in the house. Three broken windows so far…”
For the first time since he’d been back in Minnesota, Damien felt a wave of apprehension move through him. Tess had a good friend in Olivia Winston, and he wouldn’t be surprised if the dark-haired beauty had already convinced her to return to Minneapolis.
He sat at his desk in the library, staring at the photograph of Tess and Henry on their wedding day. Damien had gotten so close to finding out the truth about their marriage. The look that had crossed Tess’s face. Pretty damn close to horror.
Damien gritted his teeth. Well, she deserved it, didn’t she? To be unhappy in her marriage? She’d walked away from Damien for a safe, carefree life, and he was willing to bet that it had been anything but. Time would tell…
Damien thought about ripping up the picture and tossing it in the trash. He didn’t need it anymore. He had her, had access to her memories, the real story. That would fuel his fire and the need for payback. But when he tried to rip the photograph in two, he couldn’t do it.
“Dammit,” he muttered to himself. Why did he need the thing? Was it that he had to look at them, her in that dress and him with that persuasive grin, to keep going, keep punishing her?
He sighed, thrust his hands through his hair.
Whatever the reason, he dropped the picture back in his desk and slammed it shut. Then he grabbed his coat and walked out into the hall. He heard them, Tess and her partner, laughing in the guest room. The sound filled him with lust and he forced himself to turn away and go downstairs. He wanted to be in there, in that room. He wanted to be the one who made her laugh, see her gray eyes sparkle and fill with happiness.
Olin met him at the base of the stairs.
“I’m heading over to the red house,” Damien told him. “I’ll be back around six.”
“Yes, sir.”
“If Ms. York asks…”
Olin nodded. “Yes, sir. I’ll tell her.”
Only for a guy who had donated millions for a new emergency room, Tess thought as she watched Tribute Memorial’s chief of staff change the bandage on her foot, all from the comfort of her bed in Damien’s guest room. Doctor Keith Leeds had descended on Damien’s home twenty minutes ago, medical bag in hand, ready to give Tess a thorough checkup and see how she was healing.
This was an odd occurrence, to say the least, Tess thought. After all, it took a good month for her to get an appointment with her regular doctor—forget her ever-vacationing gynecologist.
“So, what do you think?” she asked him when he’d finished dressing her foot.
Dr. Leeds was short, kind and hovering around fifty. He had a full head of gray hair and liked to fiddle with his glasses when he talked. “Looks good. Really good. But more important, how does it feel?”
“Sore. But the intense pain is gone.”
“I’d take things slow. No more than a few hours on it at a time.”
“So, I could walk on it?”
He nodded. “Tomorrow, you should be able to get around quite well without the crutches. Just listen to your body. If the pain graduates from sore to more—”
“Nice rhyme.”
He laughed. “Thank you. Sore to more, take a break, okay?”
She nodded. “Got it.”
It was at that moment that Damien walked into the room. He was dressed in jeans and a black shirt and looked as though he’d just showered, his dark hair wet and spiky. Heat moved through Tess’s body at the sight of him, and she turned her attention back to the doctor.
“I’ll make sure she takes it easy,” Damien said, holding out his hand. “Thanks for coming by, Keith. I know house calls aren’t your thing.”
The man shook his hand and granted him a smile. “No problem, Damien. It’s on my way home.”
“So, did I hear you say Tess could walk on her foot tomorrow?”
“I did.”
Tess smiled broadly at Damien. “That’s right, sir. Back to work.”
Doctor Leeds’s brow went up, and he said to Damien, “Interesting situation you have here.”
Damien chuckled. “You have no idea.” He walked the doctor to the door, then said, “Olin is waiting downstairs. He’ll see you out.”
Dr. Leeds waved at Tess. “Take care, now.”
“Will do.” She smiled. “Thanks again.”
When he was gone, Tess settled under the covers, then proceeded to ask Damien about the new tile. “Is it all in and grouted?”
“Yes.” Damien sat on the edge of the bed. “Looks good. The stone you picked out is perfect. Modern, yet warm enough for a cottage.”
“Good.” With large, excited eyes, she pressed a button on the remote control that was half hidden in the comforter and watched the television slowly rise out of the chest at the end of the bed. “This is the just the coolest thing.” When she looked up, she caught Damien staring at her, his eyes heavy with amusement. She heaved a dramatic sigh. “Don’t worry, Mr. Sauer, I’m not getting too comfortable.”
“What does that mean?”
“Just because I’m fascinated with the elevator television thing doesn’t mean I don’t understand what happens tomorrow.”
“What happens tomorrow?”
“I go back to work, and back to living in the red house.”
“Back to work, maybe,” he said. “For short bursts. But you’re not living in that house.”
“Yes, I am.”
“No.” He crossed his arms over his chest and waited for her to acquiesce.
She didn’t. “I think it’s best.”
“Not for me. You’ve had one accident there. I’m not taking any risks with a second.”
“Not taking any risks, huh?” she said slyly.
“Not with you.” A wicked glint appeared in his blue eyes.
A jolt of heat flashed into her belly. Great, she thought. Twice in five minutes.
It was back—the lust—back with a vengeance. She wanted him to kiss her again, touch her, taste her.
Fear gripped her heart, went to war with the sparks of desire heating her blood. What would he think if he saw her scar, that disgusting reminder of a past they both wanted to put behind them?
But as it was, she didn’t need to worry. At that moment Damien was thinking about something completely different. “If you go back to the red house and something worse happens,” he was saying, “you could sue me.”
He was thinking about business.
“Right.” Feeling like a jerk, she turned back to the television and started flipping through the channels. “Can’t have that.”
They were silent for a moment. Then Damien pointed at something on the TV. “Hey, what’s that?”
“What’s what?”
“Go back two stations.”
Curious, she did, but once there, she shook her head vehemently. “Oh, no.”
“Oh, yes.”
“Hey, we’re not dating anymore. I don’t have to pretend I like this movie.”
He turned away from Dirty Harry and tossed her a sardonic look. “How many times did I have endure Meg Ryan and that Barrymore girl? French Kiss was not about what I thought it was going to be about…”
She laughed. “Are you saying I owe you?”
“Yeah.”
“You know, you could watch it in another room—you have a media room, for God’s sake.”
“And not see your horrified face when Clint Eastwood says that, ‘Do you feel lucky? Do yah, punk?’ line? What fun is that?”
“You’re a sadist.”
He didn’t answer, just leaned over and pressed the intercom on the table by the bed.
“Yes, Miss York?”
“We need popcorn, Olin.”
The man was silent for a moment, then he said quickly, “Ah, yes, sir.”
Damien looked over at Tess, raised a brow. “Butter?”
She snorted. “Are you kidding? Not that much has changed in six years.”
He laughed. “Extra butter, Olin.”
“Very good, sir.”
Damien kicked off his shoes and got in bed beside her. Not all that close, but close enough for Tess to breathe in the clean scent of his hair and skin. Close enough for her skin to tighten and feel prickly, feel desperate for his touch.
“Can you turn it up?”
She turned back to the screen and pressed the volume button. “Just so you know,” she began, “Last of the Mohicans is on after this.”
He groaned. “No way. That’s not just a chick flick, that’s a period chick flick.”
She laughed. “After this classic here, you’re gonna owe me.”
“Fine.” He reached over to press the intercom again. “But we’re going to need a few beers to go with that popcorn.”
He was screwed.
It was midnight, the movies were over, the beer and popcorn consumed, the room was lit by a full moon, and Damien was still in bed with Tess. She wasn’t naked and sitting on top of him, but he felt as though he might explode just the same.
Halfway through the Mohicans movie, she’d fallen asleep, rolled in his direction and now here they were: Damien on his back and Tess curled up beside him, her arm around his waist, her head on his chest.
He was no sap, but tonight had been fun, sexy in an odd, sweet way—like old times. And he didn’t want it to end. Maybe it didn’t have to.
Could he just close his eyes, fall asleep and wake up with her next to him? Could he? He dropped his chin and kissed the top of her head, the soft, red curls that were scented with apples from her shampoo. He grinned. It was the same shampoo she’d used in college.
She stirred then, her knee escaping the confines of her robe and sliding up his thigh. An inch higher, he mused, and she’d feel every hard inch of him.
She moved again, her head lifting, her eyes, groggy and heavy, opening and trying to focus.
“Damien?”
He ran his thumb over her bottom lip. “Yes, sweetheart?”
“I wanted you.” She spoke softly and slowly as though she was still in a dream state. Then her eyes closed again and she shook her head. “I wanted you so much.”
His body went still. His fingers went under her chin and he lifted her face to his once more. “What did you say?”
Her eyes opened again and she looked like she was trying to focus.
“What did you just say, Tess?”
She licked her lips. “I want you.”
Disappointment roared through him, but he dismissed the feeling. It wasn’t what she’d originally said, that was for sure, but it was enough—enough to put flame to sun-dried brushwood.
He dipped his head and kissed her, gentle and slow, trying to coax a response from her. She was cautious at first, her kisses guarded and quick. But as he rubbed the back of her neck, nuzzled her lips with his own, her body relaxed and she opened for him, lapping at his tongue, matching his speed and the pressure of his mouth.
It took every ounce of self-control for Damien not to pull her on top of him and have his way with her. Every nerve ending, every muscle was alive, inside and out, and when she slid her hand up his chest, to his neck and around his head, he allowed himself to take her.
Like a possessed animal, he rolled, sending her to her back and settling himself above her. For a moment he just looked at her, watched her eyes glisten, her lips part and her chest rise and fall with every breath.
She belonged to him.
He would have to let her go soon, but for now, right now, she was his.
He bent and kissed her, her mouth, her chin, then down, his lips searing a path from her neck to her collarbone. He wanted to feel every part of her, taste every inch, make love to her until they were both too exhausted to speak about the past or even think about it.
Maybe then she’d be out of his system and he could go back to California and breathe again.
His hands moved over her collarbone and he pushed aside the white terry cloth robe, revealing her pale chest and her heavy, full breasts. She arched her back, thrusting her breasts and tight, pink nipples forward. Damien cupped them firmly, then rolled one taut nipple between his thumb and forefinger. He dipped his head and took the other into his mouth, rolled the tight peak against his tongue, lapped and suckled, then ever so gently bit down on the tip.
“Damien,” she moaned, her head thrashing from side to side against the pillow, her hips thrusting, trying to meet his.
But Damien couldn’t keep things slow and relaxed. He needed to be inside her body, needed to consume her. He cursed his frustration and reached down for the knot that held her robe together. But just as he’d gotten it undone, Tess put a hand over his and squeezed.
“Damien. Please. No more. I can’t.” She sounded like an injured bird, and Damien watched as she covered herself back up with the robe.
Like a hammer, the blood in Damien’s veins pounded inside his head and chest and groin. But he wouldn’t make demands or beg her to put him out of his misery. That wasn’t his style.
Instead he moved off her, off the bed, stood there with his erection pressed against the zipper of his jeans.
Tess stared at the comforter. She wanted to die.
She sat there in the bright light of the round moon, not looking at Damien, not wanting to face what was coming next. She had allowed things to go too far. Again. What was wrong with her? Did she have no self-control when it came to this man?
She grabbed for the comforter and pulled it over her legs. What a fool she was. Damien had been unbelievably close to touching her scar.
“Tess?”
“Yes.”
“Look at me.”
Cowardice was not a part of her makeup, and she lifted her chin and looked at him. Her stomach clenched. Never had a man looked so sexy, his hair tousled, his eyes heavy, his cheeks flushed.
“What’s wrong?” he asked darkly.
“This can’t happen.”
“It is happening.”
He was right. They’d started something, and how was either of them supposed to go back? “I was half-asleep, Damien, too comfortable…”
“Don’t try and pretend you didn’t want this, Tess, because—”
“I’m not.” She shook her head. “I did want it, but now…”
His eyes were devil-black and menacing. “And now? What?”
She stared at him, trying to think of what to say next. If she lied, was cruel, would it stop him from wanting her? Would it stop the flirtation and fun and frivolous moments?
Is that what she wanted?
No, but she couldn’t have him find out her secret. And she would protect herself at all costs.
“Now I know that it’s not fair to you to continue this,” she said evenly.
He lifted a brow. “Oh? How so?”
She squared her jaw. “Because when I was kissing you, I was thinking about…” She stopped. She couldn’t.
He looked ready to kill as he ground out, “Finish your sentence, Tess.”
“No.”
He stared at her for a moment, then he turned to leave.
Her heart pounded against her rib cage. This was ridiculous, insane and juvenile. She was a grown woman, for God’s sake.
His hand was on the door when she called, “Stop. Wait, Damien.”
He glanced over his shoulder, said with a bored tone to his voice, “What?”
“It’s not true.”
He said nothing.
She continued, “It’s not true.” She released a breath. “I needed you to stop touching me, so I lied. You were right. So right. I loved it, every second that you were kissing me and touching me. I haven’t felt that good in a long time. But I needed you to stop.”
His jaw hard, he leaned back against the door. “Why?”
She shook her head. “I can’t tell you.”
His fist shot back, pounded the door. “Dammit! Come on, Tess. This is bull.”
“Maybe. But to me it’s my life.”
He cursed.
“Damien, I’m going back to the red house tomorrow.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” he said in a dangerous voice, his gaze fierce. “And I’m warning you, don’t push me on that again.”
He said nothing more as he turned, gripped the door handle and threw it wide. He was gone in seconds.
Tess dropped back against he pillow, feeling miserable and lonely. And what made it worse was that the faint scent of him lingered on her pillow.