TRACE TRIED NOT to check the time, but his nerves betrayed him as his gaze continually strayed to the small wall clock above his fireplace. Each minute ticked closer to the time he’d agreed to finish the interview with Delainey. He didn’t know why he’d agreed to talk with her after hours when his instinct was to flatly turn her down.
And now, it was too late to rescind his reluctant agreement.
It seemed a lifetime ago that Trace and Delainey had been planning to start a life together. When he thought of how stupid she’d made him look, leaving him crying as she’d bolted, he wanted to throw something. She’d done a number on his pride, for sure. So why’d he allow her to manipulate him into this late-night interview? He was baffled by his own behavior, and he didn’t like the obvious reason staring him in the face.
He hated himself for it, but seeing her again had awakened something he’d much rather ignore. Something inside him was thrashing around, banging into the furniture and roaring to be free, and whatever it was scared the living hell out of him.
The fact was, he was still insanely attracted to Delainey, even after all this time and in spite of what she’d done to him. And that shamed him to his core. He forced himself to remember what a terrible person she was deep down in the marrow of her bones, because if he didn’t, he was afraid of what he’d allow himself to do.
He remembered with crystal clarity how it felt to touch her skin or hear her soft, little moans of pleasure as he’d plunged his tongue deep into her most private flesh. He remembered everything. Time hadn’t dulled his memory or lessened the ache of his loss.
He rubbed at the heat gathering in his cheeks, recalling how he’d succumbed to using an erotic memory of Delainey from his mental cache to pleasure himself recently when he hadn’t relied on those memories in years. Delainey had gotten under his skin in rapid time, and he was a fool to allow her into his private space.
That’s it, he thought resolutely, as soon as Delainey arrived, he would tell her he’d changed his mind. Besides, how professional was an interview conducted in a person’s home?
Right on time, a soft knock at his front door told Trace Delainey had arrived, and he jumped from his chair, nearly stumbling on the end table in his haste to send her away. But as he opened the door, all good intentions fled and he couldn’t help but stare. Maybe he was losing it, because her platinum blond was starting to look pretty to him. The exotic, unnatural color turned his crank in an unexpected way, and he itched to touch it. Hell no, a voice screeched in his head, causing him to take a step away as if she were contagious with something life-threatening. “Let’s get this over with. I don’t know how much more you’re going to get. I told you everything back at the office,” he said gruffly.
“Well, I need more than a few details if I’m going to re-create the scenario correctly,” Delainey explained as she walked into the living room, taking in details as she went. “Everything looks the same.” She looked to him questioningly. “What did you do with the stuff I bought for the house?”
“Some of the stuff I gave away, other I threw out. I didn’t understand why you’d bought the stuff anyway since you never planned to stay. And I didn’t want any reminder of you.” He hadn’t wanted anything from Delainey after she’d left. It hurt too much to see stuff she’d purchased when he’d been under the assumption that they were going to build their life together in that house. Frankly, there’d been a moment when he’d considered selling the house, too.
“I really did some damage, didn’t I?” she asked quietly, and he was stunned by her question. The open regret in her tone stilled the immediately caustic retort that came to mind. Instead, he remained silent. His silence was answer enough. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I don’t know if that matters or not. Things were moving so quickly and I panicked. I saw my life flash before my eyes, and I couldn’t handle what I saw. I’m not sure that I realized that there was no way you would leave Alaska, and then when it became apparent that you weren’t going to budge, I reacted.”
“The idea of life with me caused you to panic?” he asked, blinking against what felt like an insult.
“No, it wasn’t a life with you that scared me—it was life here with you in Alaska. I didn’t want to be a housewife. I wanted a career, not just a job. Too many people allowed their dreams to die because circumstances changed in their personal life, and I didn’t want that to happen to me.”
Trace didn’t want to remember how Delainey had always been open about her dreams and goals; he certainly didn’t want to remember how he’d given them very little weight. Too much retrospection and he’d start apologizing for God only knew what. “I don’t need an explanation of why you did what you did,” he said. “It’s done and over with.”
“If that were true, you wouldn’t still be holding a grudge,” she pointed out, and he hated to admit she was right. “Can’t we talk about it and get everything out in the open?”
“I doubt it.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to talk about it, and it takes two people agreeing to hash things out in order for that to happen. Let’s just stick to the professional aspect of our relationship and leave the past where it belongs.”
“Trace, why won’t you let me explain? Maybe if I could get you to understand why, you could move on with your life.”
“Move on? What are you talking about? I did move on with my life.”
“That’s not what Miranda has said.”
Damn his sister for opening her big mouth about his personal business. “Miranda doesn’t know what she’s talking about. And when did you see Miranda?”
“I saw her earlier today. We had lunch together.”
Great. Now his sister and Delainey were best buds again? Wasn’t there any justice in the world? “I don’t know what gave Miranda the idea that it was okay to talk about my personal business with you, but I wish she’d just kept her mouth shut. The fact is, I’ve moved on just fine.”
“Trace—”
“No. I’m done with this conversation,” he said firmly. How could Miranda betray his confidence like that? To Delainey of all people? “If we’re not going to talk about the project then I’d rather just put an end to this visit, if you don’t mind.” Delainey looked dejected at his curt response, and he didn’t for the life of him know why he allowed her feelings to affect him. She’d made her bed and she could lie in it. But as soon as her eyes welled with sudden tears, he knew he was sunk. “That’s not fair and you know it,” he said, hating how easily her tears moved him. “What do you want from me, Delainey?”
“I want you to stop hating me,” she whispered, wiping at her eyes. “It hurts more than I ever realized it would to see you look at me with such hatred. I never meant to hurt you. I was just trying to save myself. Is that so bad?”
* * *
DELAINEY SHOULD’VE STUCK to the plan of simply conducting the interview and leaving, but the information Miranda had shared had been stuck in her head on a loop that just wouldn’t quit. Somehow she’d thought if perhaps she began a dialogue with Trace the floodgates would open and they’d spend the evening healing old wounds with open communication. Now in the face of his rejection, she felt like a complete fool. Now she really wanted his forgiveness and she wasn’t likely to get it.
“You don’t get to break someone’s heart and then act wounded because they don’t want you around,” Trace said. “We’re never going to be friends, Delainey.”
“I know that,” she said, wiping at her eyes. “But I’d hoped that maybe we could look at one another without being assaulted by our past. I made mistakes, more than I’m comfortable admitting, but I’d like to think that I’ve changed and grown a bit since making them.”
Trace pulled a beer from the fridge and cracked it. “I’d offer you one, but seeing as you’re going to hit the road soon...”
She frowned, her fists clenching with the urge to pummel some sense into the man. “You don’t have to be such an ass all the time. That’s all I’m saying.”
“Maybe I’m not a nice person.” He shrugged.
“You used to be.”
“Yeah, well, I used to be a lot of things.”
“Ugh. You’re impossible.”
“I’ve heard that, too.” He swigged his beer. “Tell me, how did you envision all of this going down between us?” he asked. “I mean, truthfully, did you think that I was going to be so overwhelmed with nostalgia that I’d completely blank out everything that had happened when you professed regret at how you destroyed our relationship?”
“No, of course not,” she shot back, embarrassed to admit she’d dared to hope such a thing could happen. “But I never thought you’d delight in treating me so badly just to assuage some messed-up sense of revenge. If you were so heartbroken over my leaving, why’d you let me leave without a fight? You never even tried to change my mind, or better yet, you never entertained the thought of leaving with me.”
“My home was here. Why would I leave?”
“And I made it no secret that I never wanted to stay!” The moment stretched between them as they held each other’s angry stare. The tension in the room was palpable, but neither was willing to back down. Delainey couldn’t believe how cold Trace had become. At one time, he’d been sweet and kind, generous and loving. And he was blaming her for the change? What a cop-out. “Playing the blame game is fun when you know you’re cheating to win. Admit it, Trace. You were content to let me eat my dreams so your world remained the same. You didn’t care that I wanted so much more than this place could give me, because you never considered my career choice a real one. In your mind, I was never leaving Alaska. Did you imagine me popping out a few kids and then dutifully putting my hopes and dreams on indefinite hold while you pursued your dreams?” The charged silence was enough of an answer for her. “You selfish bastard,” she muttered. “Well, screw you. If you want to vilify me for chasing my dreams, so be it. I’m not looking for your approval. Not anymore.” She grabbed her purse and stormed past him, but his arm snaked out and grabbed her, pulling her roughly to him. She squeaked in alarm but he wasn’t actually hurting her. Her heart beat like a wild thing and her breath seemed in short supply, but she held his stare, determined to seem unaffected by his close proximity. “What now, Trace?” she taunted him, the tip of her tongue wetting her lips. “You slap me around or something?”
“You know I would never hit a woman,” he said, his eyes burning but his voice changed to a silky timber that sent shivers of awareness tripping down her spine. “Not even you.”
“So what do you want to do with me?” she asked, painfully aware of how Trace’s touch sent her logical brain scurrying for shelter. She ought to wrench her arm free and leave, but she didn’t want to go. The honest truth was that she craved Trace’s touch even if she would die before admitting it. Leaving him had been the hardest thing she’d ever done, and it wasn’t only because she’d loved him. She’d known that Trace was the only man who would ever make her heart and body resonate. And she’d been right. No one had managed to make her feel as Trace had. He’d known her body instinctually, as if they’d been cut from the same cloth, and he’d known exactly where to pleasure her until she was hoarse from crying out, her body completely wrung out and limp. And, God help her, she missed that! Was she a terrible human being for hoping beyond hope that he would simply throw her down on the bed and make love to her as he used to?
She was afraid to breathe, afraid to say another word. Time ticked by with the slowest of increments until Trace lowered his mouth to hers. And then she was fairly certain time definitely stopped, and she was glad because she wanted to savor this illicit moment until its sweet, inevitable end.