MY sleep is laced with dreams about Landon, and more than once, I wake up in tears, only to continue tormenting myself with the memories. I can’t silence the voice in my head telling me I’ve made a terrible mistake. I finally wake up tired, miserable, and almost late for work.
I shower hurriedly, tempted to remain beneath the flow of water and give it a chance to wash all my pain and memories away, but even if that would work, there’s no time. I dress quickly in a white cotton blouse and a beige patterned skirt then brush my hair, despairing when my mind goes again to Landon, telling me how much he loved the color. “Sometimes it’s red,” he’d said. “Sometimes gold, and sometimes it’s both.” I breathe shakily, unable to suppress the memory of his fingers in my hair.
Frustrated, I drop the hairbrush and clip the strands away from my face, foregoing any attempt at makeup, even though my eyelids show evidence of all the crying I did last night. I wince at my reflection but decide there’s nothing I can do.
Laurie has already left for work, which is fine with me; I’m not eager to talk to her after her reaction last night. I hurry out of the empty apartment, hoping I’ll find a cab before too long.
Outside, there’s the sparse morning crowd from my street—a few people on the tree-shaded sidewalk hurrying to work, others pushing little kids in strollers, and a few cars parked on the street. I clear the steps of the building entrance and the small paved area between the sidewalk and the building before I notice the familiar black sedan parked on the curb.
My steps falter. Something builds in my stomach, a mixture of dread and anticipation that seizes my body and makes me unable to keep moving. I watch, barely breathing, as the rear door opens and Landon steps out of the car.
A soft breath escapes from my lips, and my eyes close, almost reflexively, a protective measure to prevent me from going to pieces just from looking at him. Yearning courses through my body like a tidal wave, drowning my heart and weakening my knees. I’m suddenly shaking, my whole body drawn to him like a moth to a flame.
What is he doing here?
I take a deep breath, and when I open my eyes again, he’s still there. His eyes are burning with that familiar cobalt intensity, provoking an answering flame deep in my belly. I blink back a sudden wave of tears. The last thing I need is to be so close to his devastating beauty. Already, my eyes are greedily devouring him. The burnished gold of his hair is gleaming in the early morning sun, the waves framing and emphasizing the raw perfection of his face, and he’s dressed to conquer the world in an exquisite deep blue suit, one that does nothing to hide the powerful body beneath.
In the few seconds I spend looking at him, I get the feeling that if I walked into his arms, last night wouldn’t matter anymore, only how much I want him, and how much he wants me. For a moment, I’m tempted to do just that, to forget all my doubts and just be with him.
But for how long?
It takes an effort to tear my eyes away from his perfection, to break the spell he has me under. He takes a step toward me. “Hello.” His voice is low and washes over me like a familiar, much-desired caress.
Suddenly the back of my throat feels raw. I swallow hard. I’m not going to start crying again. I chose to walk away, I remind myself. It was my choice.
There is some oncoming foot traffic on the sidewalk, so I have to step out of the way. I move toward the curb, closer to where Landon is standing. “What are you doing here?” I ask, my voice thick and rough.
He looks closely at my eyes, and I wonder how obvious it is that I spent the night in tears. A small frown touches his brow, and I can tell he hasn’t missed a thing. He starts to come closer to me, and the slight movement instantly raises my heart rate. I flinch and he stops himself, instead thrusting his hands into his pockets and rocking on his heels.
His voice is low and quiet. “I wanted to talk.”
I shake my head. My commitment to staying away from him is so shaky that I don’t trust myself to spend enough time with him to ‘talk.’ “I’m late for work,” I tell him, hoping that will be sufficient for him to leave me alone.
He takes a step toward me, closing the small distance between us. I pull in a breath, and my senses are assaulted by all the familiar scents—the faint whiff of his cologne, the delicious hint of soap and shampoo… I breathe, concentrating on the small frown he still has on his face. “I’ll take you to your office,” he suggests. “We can talk in the car.”
I contemplate sharing that small space with him, and I shake my head again. “No. Thanks.”
His quick intake of breath is followed by a frustrated hand running through his hair. “Rachel,” he says, his voice a study in patience. “Why are you making this so hard?”
It became hard the moment I fell in love with you, I say silently. Behind me on the sidewalk, people walk past us, and it makes me think how awkward we must look, just standing on the street.
“Fine,” I concede, walking past him to the car. I slide to the far side and adjust my skirt while I wait for him to join me. Landon’s preferred chauffeur, Joe, is behind the wheel, his crew cut visible from the back.
“Good morning, Joe,” I greet, my voice sounding churlish even to me.
“Good morning, Miss Foster,” Joe replies cheerfully.
The door closes with a barely audible click as Landon joins me at the back, and before the car starts to move, Joe plugs in a pair of earbuds. I fix my gaze out the window, determined to resist the urge to feast my eyes on Landon’s perfection, but every nerve in my body is aware of him, right beside me, so close, so gorgeous, so…everything I want.
You’re in love with him, I tell myself, trying to be sensible. He doesn’t feel the same way, and there’s absolutely no chance he ever will. He can’t give you what you want, and you know he’ll only hurt you in the long run.
But…what could ever hurt more than leaving him hurts now? Temptation whispers the words in my head, and I do my best to ignore them. I’m doing the right thing for me, I assure myself. Why postpone the pain that will surely come? Why keep holding on to a man who’ll only want me for a short while?
The car joins the traffic heading toward Midtown, and I’m so acutely aware of Landon, of the waves of sensual energy coming from his body and the desire growing low in my belly. I’m almost afraid to move. The silence stretches, along with my nerves.
“You’re still going out with Weyland tonight?”
The question makes me turn to look at him. He’s facing straight ahead, his fingers splayed on his lap. His body looks as stiff as mine feels. I close my fists, fighting the ache in my fingers from my desire to touch him, to feel the skin of his face, to smooth the silk of his hair…to allow my heart to win over my head.
Instead, I respond to his question. “Is that what you wanted to talk about?”
He doesn’t reply.
I turn back to the window. The truth is, I’m in no mood to see Jack, especially considering the state of my emotions at the moment. Jack had warned me about falling in love with Landon. It had been ridiculous and presumptuous coming from him, but still, if he caught any inkling that things were not perfect, he would take it as proof that he’d been right.
“I don’t know,” I murmur. “I already told him I would.”
There is another long silence, and I wonder what he’s thinking. I steal a glance at him and catch him looking at me.
“What did Weyland say to you at the Swanson Court, the day we met?”
The question takes me by surprise, and I shake my head, confused. “I don’t think that has anything to do with—”
“Please,” Landon stops me. “Rachel, I’m trying to understand your…relationship with him, and why he keeps coming up between us.”
Us. Such a small word, but at that moment, it almost destroys me. I breathe. “I don’t think it makes any difference…” I stop talking, the intense burn in Landon’s eyes telling me he won’t stop until I tell him the truth. “He told me he was engaged,” I say quietly.
Landon nods. “You were in love with him.”
It’s a statement, not a question. I don’t reply. I’d thought I was in love with Jack, but I was wrong. What I’d felt for Jack at the time was nothing compared to the emotions coursing through me now.
Landon isn’t done. His eyes are still on mine, searching and demanding answers. “Tell me what happened between you two.”
It doesn’t matter, I say silently. It ceased to matter the moment those elevator doors opened and I saw you standing there. “I met him when I went to work at Gilt. We started seeing each other, and we stopped after about two months.” I shrug. “But we stayed friends.”
“Why did you stop seeing each other?”
“We didn’t want the same things.”
Landon chuckles, but he doesn’t sound or look amused. “You’re being deliberately vague.”
“I told him I was in love with him.” I turn back to the window, escaping the force and beauty of the eyes trained on me. “He didn’t feel the same way.”
There is another silence from Landon. Is he wondering why I remained friends with Jack after that? Why two years later I was still so into him that I cared that he was getting engaged to someone else? Does it make him think less of me? Not that I should care what he thinks—after all, I’m supposed to be getting over him.
“You told me you were completely over Weyland,” Landon says, his voice low. “Were you being honest?”
If he only knew. I close my eyes, pushing away the pain threatening to engulf me. “There’s really no point in talking about Jack.”
He is silent. I listen to his fingers beat a low, erratic rhythm on the tops of his thighs. “Are you still in love with him?” I hear him say, his voice grave.
I consider saying yes. The idea cycles through my head, and I contemplate what would follow. Landon would walk away. There’s no way he’d keep pursuing me if he thought I was in love with someone else. He’d let me go, and no matter how miserable that would make me, at least I’d have the space I need to get over him.
But I can’t bring myself to lie to him. There’s something in his eyes, some emotion that reaches deep inside me and makes me want to remove every single doubt in my mind, to break down every single wall I’ve labored to put up between us. I pull in a shaky breath. “No,” I whisper softly. “I was never in love with him. For a while, I thought I was, but I was mistaken.”
Landon releases a long breath then leans toward me, a puzzled frown on his face. “Then why?”
His face is so close to mine that it’s difficult to think. My eyes slip to his lips, and I have a sudden memory of those lips on my skin, tasting, teasing… I swallow. “Why what?”
He covers my hand with his, the touch firm but gentle. I start to tremble, knowing he only has to keep touching me and I’ll fall to pieces. I try to pull my hand away, but he holds on, bringing his other hand to keep mine between both of his. His next words are tender and probing. “Why do you keep pushing me away?”
I try to remember all the reasons, but everything is clouded by my desire to give in, to forget my doubts, to surrender myself to him, for the pleasure…
…and the inevitable pain.
“Because I don’t want this,” I whisper. “I don’t want to be with you.” Not like this, I add silently. Not unless you love me too.
His eyes close, and his jaw flexes. I don’t wait for him to say anything before I continue, digging my heels in before I surrender to the temptation to tell him how I really feel, what I really want. “I meant it when I said you can’t give me what I want.”
Something like pain flashes in his eyes, but I can’t be too sure. I watch his throat work as he swallows then releases my hand, letting it fall back on my thigh. The thought that I’ve hurt him is almost unbearable. I want to take it back, but I know he’ll get over it. He’ll find some other woman who will be happy without the promise of commitment, or will at least pretend to be.
My eyes are stinging with tears, and I blink them away, looking straight ahead to keep Landon from noticing. If only I didn’t love him so much, didn’t want him so much…
I’m relieved when I see the Gilt building a few yards ahead. We’re both silent as the car inches forward in the traffic. It seems to take forever till Joe slides up to the curb at the entrance and stops.
I risk a glance at Landon. He doesn’t look at me, and his face is as remote and distant as if it was hewn from stone. “I… Thanks for the ride.”
His response is a small, bitter chuckle. “I should thank you,” he says, “for making it clear to me, without any doubt, that I can’t always get what I want.”
I flinch at his tone, and at the realization that he thinks I’ve been trying to teach him a lesson. Taking one last, long look at his beautiful profile, I decide that there would be no point in arguing.
My heart is heavy as I leave the car. With my whole body trembling, I take the steps up toward the glass doors. I hear the low purr of the engine as the car starts to move away, but I don’t look back.
I’m doing the right thing, I tell myself for the thousandth time.
It only makes me feel worse.