MATT worked for the rest of the afternoon, and Jo curled up in a chair on the balcony, reading, her back to him. The temptation to distract him as she used to do was far too great—no need to complicate things by having him in her line of vision. Second chances—yes, and there was optimism and hope in the air, but rushing things wouldn’t help any.
When it was time for dinner, they collaborated on figuring out how the barbecue worked, then ate inside as it was getting dark already. The conversation was easy, the mood light—but Jo was very aware that they were both working hard to keep it that way. It didn’t come naturally.
When the food was long gone and the conversation had died out they just sat there, staring into the flickering embers of the fire for the longest time.
Then Matt stood up and walked to the window. He gave an exclamation of surprise, then held out a hand for her to join him. “Come on, Jo, have a look.”
She walked toward him and he put his arm around her shoulders as he pointed upward. “Look.”
The sky above was breathtaking. “Wow. They really are infinite, aren’t they?”
“Hmmmm. Would you like to go out there?”
“Are you offering to take me?”
Matt chuckled. “That’d be original. A honeymoon in space. Seriously, would you want to go?”
She glanced at him, not sure if he was joking. “What do you mean? To the stars?”
“Yes.”
She shrugged, enjoying the heavy weight of his arm around her shoulders. “If I were living in the twenty-seventh century, then yes, I would be tempted to take a cosmic voyage.”
“Yeah. Maybe colonize a planet.”
Jo chuckled. “Not me. That’d be hard work. I’d rather visit when they’ve installed plumbing and gotten rid of the toxins in the atmosphere.”
Matt grinned down at her before looking up toward the stars again. “You were never a science fiction fan, were you?”
“Science fiction is for dreamers.”
“You’re not a dreamer?”
“I like reality.”
“Why?”
She should pull away from him. Being so close wasn’t good for her. “Dreams are just precursors to disappointment. You know where you stand with reality.”
Matt turned her around and pushed at her chin until she met his eyes. “Reality is for those who can’t handle fantasy. Haven’t you ever heard that?”
His eyes were vivid, his face vibrant in the shadows from the fire. “Is that what this honeymoon is?” she whispered. “A fantasy?”
“It can be.”
His chest was warm under her hands—originally there to hold him away, but now his heartbeat was pushing at her palm and she couldn’t seem to move. She lowered her head, but his hand came up, holding her chin steady.
“What’s wrong with having a fantasy, Jo?”
Now his body was warm against her front, and she hesitantly slipped her hand around his neck, to the back of his head where she’d always liked to play with his hair. Why was she doing this? How had he dragged her into his fantasy when she was so sure she’d rather cling to reality? “Just what sort of a fantasy would it be? One with indoor plumbing?”
He smiled. “Yes. Even a hot tub.”
“Fantasy…”
“Our fantasy.”
Despite her better judgment, she pushed her fingers between the buttons on his shirt to feel his warm flesh. She needed to. “Fantasies are transient, Matt. Untrustworthy, unreliable. They vanish when reality notices they’re there and decides to do something about it.”
“Yes…but while they last…” Matt murmured.
“Then what…?”
“Then they’re wonderful.”
But they don’t last, she wanted to say, but she couldn’t bear to hear herself say it. Instead she raised her gaze, stared at his mouth for a while before daring to meet the blaze of his eyes.
There was no reality there. Just heat, intense heat and certainty that drew her into his fantasy. His heart was pounding against her fingers and it was so right. She could feel the heat emanating from his lips. He was only inches away but it felt like miles. His arms were at his sides instead of being around her, and the absence was almost a physical pain.
“Matt…” she whispered, but couldn’t even hear her own voice over the roaring of blood in her ears. She needed his touch, she needed to feel his arms around her, but he wasn’t complying. Why not? Why wasn’t he touching her when she needed him to?
Matt was almost trembling. He wanted to touch her so badly, but did he really want to drag her into a fantasy when she was so unsure they could even function in the same reality? Just a moment ago he’d been certain—but maybe he’d just end up hurting her even more.
But her skin was so soft. He touched her cheek, tapped at the corner of her mouth with his thumb. Her eyes fluttered shut then, and it became impossible for him to resist.
Her lips were soft, welcoming, warm—it felt like a homecoming until he slid his hand around to her hair and reality threatened to rip his fantasy apart. But her lips were opening against his and she was leaning into him, her arms going around him, and it was like a memory, a memory he’d thought he would never relive.
How could they have lost this? He didn’t think he’d forgotten anything, not how her body felt pressed against his, not the taste of her lips or the tiny sounds she made when she wanted more, craved more. And she wanted him, she wanted his touch, she wanted his kisses, she wanted him. Not everything was lost. He had not killed what she had felt for him. The relief made him smile against her mouth and she smiled back, her lips curving, almost breaking the kiss and he growled and gently bit at her lower lip in a playful punishment.
She giggled, and he laughed himself, feeling an unexpected freedom in the joy, and he whispered into her ear. No sweet nothings, nothing intense or profound, just a stupid childish joke he’d told her dozens of times before.
“Don’t, Matt.” Like a little girl she was holding her hands over her mouth, trying not to laugh. “I can’t resist it when you try to make me laugh with your horrid jokes.”
“Good.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want you to resist me.”
“I’m on to you. You just want to escape sleeping on the air mattress.”
His eyes glinted. “Don’t you want to try out the outdoor tub?”
“Don’t look so hopeful, I did bring a very demure bathing suit.”
In her purse, left on a shelf just inside the front door, her cell phone beeped. They both jumped, then Jo raced to get it, worried something might have happened to Esther.
It wasn’t Esther. It was the hesitant voice of someone who’d once been her friend.
“Christine?” Why in the world would Christine be calling her—one of the people who’d turned their backs on her, believing she was a criminal?
“I just…wanted to apologize,” Christine said hesitantly. “I know it was unforgivable, to act the way I did—”
“What are you talking about?”
“Everybody knows now that you’re innocent, Jo. Matt sent a global e-mail out, explained the results of the investigation.” She paused. “He made most of us feel rather ashamed of how we’d treated you, too.”
“Wait…” She turned around, and saw that Matt was out on the patio, experimenting with the controls on the tub. She hurried into the bedroom and shut the door, just in case. “Christine, Matt explained what?”
“You haven’t heard?”
“Obviously not.”
“Matt said he would be going straight to see you, to apologize on behalf of the firm…”
“I’m away,” she told Christine, turning around and staring out through the window at Matt’s car, dusty from the long drive. “I’m away for a long weekend. I suppose he tried my home number or my office number, and I wasn’t there.”
“Oh. Oh! So I’m telling you the good news?” Christine perked up at this. “Everybody knows you didn’t do it, Jo. We’ll be groveling for months, I promise.”
“Really?”
“Yes. We’re sorry—we all are.”
Her head was spinning from all the new information. “Thanks, Christine.”
“Will you be coming back? I know Matt intended to ask you to come back. The board wants you back too.” Christine’s voice turned dry. “Although their motives are probably linked to that huge settlement you’d no doubt win if you sued them.”
“I don’t know…”
“Well, I just wanted to apologize.”
“It’s okay. Thank you, Chris. I appreciate it.”
Jo ended the phone call in a daze. Why hadn’t he told her? Why wasn’t he telling her? This was good news for everybody.
She left the phone on the nightstand and walked out on to the porch to Matt. He looked up and smiled when he saw her coming. “Well, at least this thing works if you do decide to try out the demure swimming suit. Hot water and all. Was that Esther on the phone?”
“No.”
Matt nodded. She followed him with her gaze as he turned the water off again and covered the tub. He hadn’t told her. Why?
There would be a good reason—for some reason she was sure there would be. She opened her mouth, and without a conscious decision, she told him. “It was Christine, from work. Remember Christine? I shared a cubicle with her before I got my own office?”
Matt held his breath, and her gaze, for a long moment. Then he seemed to relax, probably at not seeing fury in her eyes. It was what he’d expected, she could see that now. “I see.”
“She told me everything.”
“Then you know your name has been cleared.”
“Yes.”
“Everybody’s hoping you’ll decide to come back. But I understand if you don’t want to.”
“I’ll have to think about it,” she told him.
“You’re not angry,” he said.
She took a deep breath. “No.”
“I thought you’d be.”
“I’m not angry—because I trust you to have a good explanation.”
Matt sat down on the edge of the tub and held out a hand. “You trust me?”
She took his hand and let him pull her closer. “Yes. Why didn’t you tell me?”
His smile was crooked, almost embarrassed. “And if it doesn’t count as a good excuse—then what?”
“Then I push you in.”
Matt glanced down into the half-filled tub and was quick to jump to his feet. He pulled her inside the cottage instead, and pushed her on to the sofa. “I wasn’t sure how to tell you,” he said quickly. “You stuck so hard to the idea that I thought you were guilty. I was worried that you might think the only reason I said I wanted a second chance for us was because someone convinced me you were innocent. I don’t know…I wanted to—get my chance first, get this weekend first. And then tell you.”
“I see.”
“So—are you going to throw me in the tub?”
“I don’t think so.”
Matt stared at her for a minute. “Does that mean I’m forgiven?”
“You hurt me,” she said, almost soundlessly.
The words were so simple. Yet so dangerous. They held more of her emotions than anything she’d ever said to him before—they made her vulnerable. It seemed such an obvious thing, but this wasn’t an admission she’d ever made before. And he seemed to realize that. He stared into her eyes for the longest time before slowly nodding.
“I know.”
She found she’d been holding her breath, waiting for his answer.
He continued. “You hurt me too.”
“I did?” It had never occurred to her, but the look in his eyes told her it was the truth.
“You didn’t trust me. You didn’t believe in me.”
She moved restlessly, fiddled with the sleeves of her shirt, longing to object. But she needed to give him time to finish what he was saying.
“You wouldn’t even consider that I might be trying to do what was best for you…what was best for us.”
“You wouldn’t even acknowledge that there was an us,” she burst out, finally giving voice to the worst hurt of all. “Everything would have been okay if you’d just told people we were together.”
“No, Jo.” He approached her and she shrank back, simply because his presence was so powerful. He knelt by her side and took her hands in his, obviously intent on her absorbing every word. “We’ve talked about this before. It wouldn’t have helped. It would have hurt. Me too—it wouldn’t have helped my reputation with the board, but mainly it would have hurt you. The thief used my computer, my password. If it had come out that you were my…girlfriend, the suspicions would just have been even stronger.” He sighed. “And when you wouldn’t listen, my pride was hurt too—”
“I know, Matt,” she interrupted. “I know now why you didn’t tell them about us. But it was because you wouldn’t acknowledge our relationship that I thought you didn’t care…”
There was new understanding in his eyes. “We should have fought harder for each other, shouldn’t we?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry that I hurt you,” he said.
She looked down, but then up again, bravely locking her gaze with his. “I hurt you too. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. It’s over.”
“We both made mistakes. I may have…over-reacted,” she admitted. “You tried to do the right thing…”
“Do you think we can start over?”
He’d moved closer by the time she looked up, and she couldn’t help it—there were tears in her eyes. “I don’t know, Matt.”
“Because you don’t trust me?”
“No…because…”
“Tell me.”
Because I never knew exactly what you felt for me. I still don’t know.
She couldn’t say that. Pride wouldn’t let her—pride and fear.
“Because it might happen again,” she said instead. “We might hurt each other again.”
He touched her cheek softly, and she couldn’t help but reciprocate, reaching out to caress his cheekbone with the tips of her fingers. “We’ll try not to,” he whispered. “We’ll try really hard not to. Okay?”
She was under his spell again, yet she didn’t feel she’d lost a battle. She was winning. They both were. She leaned into his arms and burrowed into him, relaxing against his body. A smile bloomed inside her, but took quite a while to reach her face. When it did, she tilted her head back to show him, then buried her face again in his shoulder. “Yes,” she said, the word muffled against his shirt, and she felt his mouth touch her temple. “We’ll try really hard.”