Callie Foster stood at the kitchen window, listening to what Shayla was saying. A troubled expression covered her face as she turned around. “Are you saying Thomas Jordache actually knew who you were?”
Shayla nodded. “Yes. He’d seen a picture of Mama and me together in the newspaper not long after Dad’s death, and put two and two together. He figured out that she didn’t get an abortion and confronted her, and she told him the truth.”
Callie crossed the room and sat down at the table. “She did?”
Shayla glanced up when she heard the disbelief in her aunt’s voice. “That’s what he claims.” She reached over and captured her aunt’s hand. “I know the facts surrounding my birth were supposed to remain a secret between you, Mom, and Dad, but I guess she had to tell him. He had figured it out, anyway.”
Although Callie nodded, she wasn’t too sure about that. “What else did he say?”
Thirty minutes later, Shayla had told her aunt everything regarding her meeting with Thomas Jordache. “So what do you think, Aunt Callie? Should I believe him?”
“It seems you already do.”
Shayla nodded. “It’s hard to believe he’s actually dying. More than anything my heart goes out to Trent. His father loves him very much.”
Callie studied her niece. “Are you sure Jordache really wasn’t just trying to milk you for information?”
“Yes. He knew something. In fact, I think he knew more than he was saying.”
“Shayla, I—”
“No, Aunt Callie. I know what you’re about to say, and it’s too late. I’m already into this too deep. I love Nicholas too much to look away when he could lose everything.”
“But you don’t know that for sure.”
“No, all I have are gut feelings. Just like my gut feeling that Thomas Jordache wasn’t behind the fire and the break-in at Chenault Electronics. But I have no way of proving it.” Shayla released a deep sigh and rubbed a hand over her face. “Boy, what a mess.”
Callie took a sip of her tea and looked at Shayla for the longest time before saying, “Yeah, what a mess.”
Carl Stockard leaned back in the chair at his desk and gazed out the window with a huge smile on his face. Everything was falling nicely into place. Who would have thought that Shayla Kirkland had her own agenda, and was working behind the scenes with Thomas Jordache?
Carl had followed her that day when she had hurried out of the building, and had watched her get into Jordache’s limousine. He’d known there was something suspicious about her from the start. He couldn’t wait until the boss returned from his trip to Bolivia. Solving this case would look good, and that’s what he was counting on, to look good in Mr. Chenault’s eyes. He would finally show Paul Dunlap once and for all what he could do. It was time for the man to retire. There was no sense in him hanging around any longer. He hoped this would show Dunlap that he was losing his touch, and wasn’t needed. And once he was out of the way, there was no doubt in Carl’s mind that he would be Nicholas Chenault’s top pick as his number one security man. That would mean living on easy street, running things his way as Chenault’s top security person.
Carl shook his head, and his smile widened. Ms. Kirkland was certainly making things easy for him. Unfortunately, the news about her would come as a hard blow to the boss, since the two of them were having an affair. He grinned. Yeah, he had figured that out, too, which was an added bonus. Mr. Chenault would definitely be grateful he’d been saved from the clutches of a deceitful woman. In Carl’s book there was nothing worse than a woman who betrayed a man.
Carl whirled around in his chair when he heard someone enter his office. A frown covered his face when he saw who his visitor was. He quickly got up and closed the door. “What the hell are you doing here? You know better than to—”
“I can’t do it, Stockard. I can’t lie to Mr. Chenault any longer. His daddy was a good man. Alan Chenault would turn over in his grave if he knew what I’m allowing you to do.”
Annoyed, Carl released a long sigh. He had no intention of letting anyone ruin his carefully laid plans. “I don’t care how good a man Alan Chenault was, Harris. You and I have an agreement. If you don’t want your wife and kids to find out about that little affair you carried on with Cindy Davenport, I suggest you continue to do what I say.”
Silas Harris, who was normally a soft-spoken, easygoing person, suddenly reached out and grabbed Carl by the collar, shocking him with the force of his actions and the look of steel in his eyes. “I won’t let you blackmail me any longer, Stockard. I’ll go to Paul Dunlap and tell him everything.”
Carl flashed a grin, and the look on his face was pure ice. “Yeah, you do that, and I’ll make sure you pay. I’m sure your wife, your son and daughter in college, your pastor, a few of your neighbors, and one or two others will enjoy receiving an unmarked videotape in the mail, one that shows what you really do after-hours. You know, the one I captured on tape of you screwing Cindy Davenport’s brains out in her apartment.”
Carl felt Harris’s hold on his collar loosen. He saw the look in his eyes as they began to clear. “Get your hands off me, Harris, and I mean now.”
When Harris released him Carl stepped back with a thin superior grin on his face. He straightened his collar and tie. “I suggest you pull yourself together. When all this is over I recommend that you take a nice long vacation with the wife. You seem a little distraught and overworked.”
“There’s nothing going on between me and Cindy. She used me that one night.”
Carl shrugged. “Yeah, whatever.”
“No, I mean it. It was just that one time. She came on to me, tempting me with—”
“Spare me the details, Harris. All I know is what I caught on the hidden camera. And as far as your being used goes, no one forced you to go to her apartment, so you’ll never convince me or anyone else that you didn’t get what you went looking for. That tape shows you were enjoying mounting her.”
“The two of you set me up,” Harris said with a hard edge to his voice. “What was I to do when I got there and she began taking off her clothes?”
“Maybe you should have acted like a gentleman and asked her to keep them on.” Carl sneered. “No matter what you think about it being a setup, Harris, after watching that video no one is going to believe you weren’t enjoying yourself. Think about it. Then think about all you have to lose—your job, twenty-five years of marriage, the respect of your children, your friends, and your community. I’m not asking you to do anything illegal. All I’m asking is that you use your expertise to stretch things a bit. I want Mr. Chenault to realize just how valuable I am to him. Trust me, things will work out. And if you’re worried he’ll figure things out, then don’t be. I have everything under control.”
“But it’s all a lie. You orchestrated everything—the fire, the break-in, the virus.”
A sneer curved Carl’s lips. “Yeah, I did, didn’t I? And I went to a lot of trouble doing it, and I won’t let you or anyone else ruin my plans. So think twice before running to Dunlap. You have as much to lose as I do. Maybe more. Now get out of my office.”
Nicholas’s meeting ended one day ahead of schedule. He spent nearly half an hour on the phone in his hotel suite trying to get a flight out of Bolivia. When he hung up, he was satisfied. He would be able to return to the States a full day earlier than planned.
With nothing else that he wanted to do at that moment, he stretched out on the bed, and thoughts of Shayla immediately consumed his mind. All through the four-day meeting it had been difficult for him to concentrate on business. His thoughts had been on her. In the time since he had met her, he had come to care deeply about her, emotionally and physically.
Physically he could understand and easily accept. Emotionally, he could not.
His heart moved against his ribs. He knew that whether he understood it or not, and accepted it or not, Shayla Kirkland had touched a part of him no other woman had.
And that was what really bothered him.
The necklace he had given her had been more than a piece of jewelry. The only woman he’d ever purchased expensive jewelry for had been his mother. But the moment he had seen the pendant behind the glass case in that exclusive jewelry store, he’d known he had to get it for her.
Just as he knew she was the main reason he was chafing at the bit to return to Chicago.
Still, the very thought that a woman could consume his thoughts and his mind so deeply was a hard one to swallow. He never thought about needing space when with her, and had proved that on a couple of occasions when she’d spent the night at his place, something that was a first for any woman.
So what was bothering him? When he really thought things through and stopped looking for complications that weren’t there, he saw that in truth Shayla Kirkland was the best thing to happen to him in a long time.
Cindy Davenport was nearly wild with excitement when she opened the door to Carl Stockard late that afternoon. “So what’s the latest? When will we have Shayla Kirkland out of the picture?”
Carl laughed as he entered Cindy’s home. He, of all people, knew of her obsession with Nicholas Chenault. The boss was a challenge to her, since he’d never shown her any interest. Carl also knew Cindy. They had worked together at another company some years ago, a company she had gotten fired from when someone had walked in on her and another employee making out in her office. Neither of them had had enough sense to lock the door.
Carl had known getting Cindy to go along with his plan to set Harris up would be easy. She had come to Chenault a year ago, looking for a fresh start and a fresh group of men to seduce. Unfortunately, the men at Chenault hadn’t been willing to cooperate, bruising Cindy’s ego. And then, with Nicholas Chenault’s total lack of interest, she’d been more than hungry for someone’s attention, even someone dull and boring as Silas Harris.
Carl liked Cindy. He thought she was daring, a woman who could hold her own. She had a backbone. She also had a good-looking body—a body he had gotten a piece of a time or two. As he watched her standing across the room dressed in a short silk bathrobe, he wondered if perhaps she would be accommodating tonight.
“Harris dropped by my office today,” he finally said, sitting down on her sofa. “He’s getting scared, and he threatened to go tell Dunlap everything.”
Cindy’s eyes widened. “What did you say to him?”
“I reminded him of everything he could lose if he talked.”
Cindy nodded. She wasn’t worried about Silas Harris. She knew that Stockard would keep the man under control. “What about Shayla? You promised to get her out of the picture.”
“And I will. Just be patient. Things are falling into place, and without very much effort on my part I’ll have what I want—Paul Dunlap’s job when he leaves. And you’ll have what you want—another chance to seduce Chenault.”
Carl watched Cindy’s eyes light up, and knew her body was probably getting stimulated at the thought. Getting Nicholas into her bed was an obsession, and had been since the first day she’d laid eyes on him. When she’d discovered he was messing around with Shayla Kirkland, she’d been furious and had been willing to do just about anything to get Ms. Kirkland out of the picture. She didn’t take too kindly to competition.
“I want him,” Cindy said in a tone so absolute that Carl got turned on from the intensity of it. He slowly got up from his seat and crossed the room to her. He flashed her a smooth smile. He’d discovered that when it came to Cindy he couldn’t help himself. She was the only person who could make him lose control. He never cared what other men she was intimate with, or what man she wanted, as long as he could have her whenever he got ready.
And tonight he was good and ready.
Cindy’s pulse was slowly increasing its rate and hurling through every part of her body when she saw the raw look of sexual hunger in Carl’s eyes. He wasn’t Nicholas Chenault by any means, but he would do in a pinch. He always had. Besides, she enjoyed working that cool control out of his body. He was always a challenge she couldn’t resist.
She returned his smile. “You brought condoms with you?” she asked. With not much of an effort she kept her voice cool, impersonal.
The look on Carl’s face was objective, and just as cool and impersonal. “Yeah, I brought a bunch.”
Cindy’s fingers began untying the belt at her waist. Her eyes never left Carl’s. “Good.”
“Are you sure Harris said he traced the virus from one of Jordache’s modems?”
Paul looked at the man sitting across from his desk who had asked the question. He was someone Nicholas had brought in six months ago to work undercover for security purposes. They were the only two people who knew his identity and the true purpose of his being there. “Yes, that’s what he said. Why?”
“Because I didn’t find anything, and I literally took the networking system apart going through it. By using that special code you gave me, I was able to enter Chenault Electronics’s network through all the ports in their systems. I’m positive I didn’t miss any points of entry. There was nothing there.”
Paul gave the man a quizzical look. “What are you saying?”
The man leaned over and handed Paul a folder. “What I’m about to say is all in that report. There was no importation of a virus of any kind in any of Chenault’s computers.”
“Are you saying Harris made a mistake in saying someone was trying to get into Chenault’s system through a remote dial-in?”
The man’s gaze never left Paul when he said, “He either made a mistake, or he deliberately lied about it. The only remote dial-ins that Chenault Electronics has received in the past three weeks were those that I tried to infiltrate from my system at the hotel. And I couldn’t have penetrated Chenault’s network without the password that you and Nicholas gave me. The system is just that tight. There’s not an unauthorized person who can gain access to it, which makes me wonder why Harris is claiming otherwise.”
Paul opened the folder and glanced at the documents. A few moments later he raised his head again and met the man’s gaze. “You think Harris is involved in something?”
“After reading those inconsistencies, don’t you?”
“I never would have suspected it. He’s been working here for over twenty years. He’s a model employee, and good family man. It’s hard to believe he would betray the company. I don’t want to believe that.”
The man nodded. “He may be doing it because he’s desperate for money. But who would pay him to fake a virus in Chenault’s networking system?”
Thomas Jordache immediately came to Paul’s mind. “Possibly someone who wants word to get out that the mangolid chip is defective when it isn’t,” he said.
“Possibly, but I don’t think so. I ran a check on Harris. The strange thing is that he hasn’t deposited any large sums of money in any bank accounts. He’s a conservative spender who’s sending his son and daughter to college, but—according to what I’ve been able to dig up—his kids have scholarships, so there’s no real hardship there. Unless I’ve missed something, he doesn’t seem to be reaping any type of monetary gain from what he’s doing.”
Paul shook his head. It was hard to believe Harris was the inside person who could be working with Thomas Jordache. “What about Jordache? Have you made a connection with him and Harris? Do you think Jordache is withholding Harris’s payoff until he does something else?”
The man leaned back in his chair. “Now that’s another mystery. I know you think Jordache is involved, but personally I don’t. So far I haven’t found anything to link Jordache to the fire or the break-in. I think someone’s trying to make it seem that Jordache is involved when he’s not.”
Paul raised a dark brow. “Who would gain by doing that? And how is Harris involved?”
The man stood. “That’s what I’m working on finding out. I’ll check back with you when I have something else to report.”
Paul watched as Howard Reeves headed for the door. “Wait. I want to ask your opinion about someone, another employee. Shayla Kirkland.”
The man smiled smoothly. “Ahh, yes, Ms. Kirkland. Nick’s Ms. Kirkland.”
Paul frowned. “Then you know?”
“That the two of them are having an affair? Yes. But Nick didn’t mention it. It wasn’t hard to figure out. His entire face lights up whenever she enters a room, and as much as he tries not to, he only has eyes for her.”
“It’s that obvious?”
“Only to those who really know Nick.”
Paul nodded. “What do you think of her?”
The man lifted his brow. “Besides being a hell of a good-looking woman, I think she’s fiercely loyal to Nick. The last few times I tried to engage her in negative conversations about him, I got her pretty pissed off with me.”
“It could have been an act.”
“No, I don’t think so.” Howard eyed Paul curiously. “Is there a reason you don’t trust her?”
“It’s not that.” Paul rubbed his hand across his face, then sighed heavily. “Hell, I don’t know what it is, but there’s something. The first time I met her I felt as if there was something about her I should know. That’s the reason I’m in the process of reviewing her personnel file again.”
Howard studied Paul for a few moments before saying, “Before I think about accusing her of anything, I’d make sure I had all my ducks in a row. Nick’s hooked on her pretty bad. He won’t take too kindly to false accusations about her without damn good proof from anyone. He’s in love.”
Paul nodded. He, too, had recognized the signs, although he doubted it was obvious to Nick just yet. “Yeah, he is,” he agreed. “And that’s what’s beginning to worry me. That’s why I’m going to make sure that Ms. Kirkland is as squeaky clean as she seems.”
“You’re quiet today,” Trent pointed out to Brenna as he helped himself to one of the French fries from her plate.
Brenna gazed up at him, her eyes warm and thoughtful. “I was just thinking how much you know about me, and how little I know about you. You don’t share yourself much.”
Trent leaned back in his chair. With that one statement Brenna had put everything in perspective about him. She was right. He didn’t share himself much with others. Although he considered himself very friendly and outgoing, he was a private person, nonetheless. The only person who knew him, really knew him, was Nick. But for some reason a part of him wanted Brenna to know him, too.
“Have dinner with me tonight, and I’ll tell you all you want to know,” he said in a low husky voice.
Brenna picked up her napkin and blotted her lips while she lifted an arched eyebrow. “That tactic won’t work, Trent,” she said, smiling. “I’m already having dinner with you tonight, remember?”
He picked up his drink and took a slow sip, his eyes never leaving hers as he did. Then he placed his glass back on the table. “I want you to join me for dinner tonight in my cabin, Brenna. Will you?”
Trent’s question had caught her off guard, and she sat studying him for a long moment. Could she trust herself alone with him in his cabin? Was she prepared for the possible consequences if she did?
They had been spending a lot of time together, usually around others, never completely alone. But she knew, just from picking up on the vibes, that at times he had wanted her alone with him, away from others. At those times she’d seen a heated look in his eyes when he gazed at her, and she’d felt the gentleness of his hand whenever he found reason to touch her. His good-night kisses were no longer chaste pecks on the cheek. Now, when he walked her to her cabin she prepared herself to be kissed senseless. Yet, no matter how hot and heavy things got during their kiss, he’d held himself in check. He hadn’t applied any type of pressure on her, and had not tried to break down her resolve.
Then why did she have the feeling that all was about to change? Why did she feel that tonight, being alone with him in his cabin could lead to a seduction she might not have the strength to walk away from?
The silence stretched between them. Other passengers by the pool were having fun, noisily romping in and out of the water, enjoying themselves. But at the table where Trent and Brenna sat alone, waiting, thinking, deciding, there was a swirl of sensuality surrounding them, heightening the heated tension around them.
“Yes,” Brenna finally answered. “I’ll join you for dinner in your cabin.”
A worried frown lined Trent’s features when he opened the door to Brenna late that evening. “I thought perhaps you had changed your mind,” he said as he stepped aside to let her enter.
“Sorry I’m late. I got lost. I didn’t know you were on a private deck.”
Trent closed the door behind her after she had entered. “I apologize. I forgot to mention it. Did you have problems getting up here?”
“Not really. I just told the steward that you were expecting me for dinner. Luckily he believed me.” She glanced around. “I didn’t know they had cabins this large. This is the size of a penthouse,” she said, noting how extra roomy the cabin was with its private balcony. She looked back at Trent, knowing he was probably paying a lot of money for this sort of accommodation. Now, more than ever, she couldn’t help wondering just what he did for a living. He’d told her he was a businessman. Now she wondered just what type of business he was in.
Trent smiled, seeing the questions in her eyes. He invited her to take a seat on the sofa that provided a panoramic view of the ocean. The sun was just setting over it. “There aren’t many of these large rooms on board. And you’re right. This is a penthouse. I own it.”
Brenna raised a brow. “You own a penthouse aboard this ship?”
“Yes.”
“Why? You enjoy cruising that much?”
Trent shook his head, grinning. “Yes, in a way. But cruising is my business. I’m part owner of this ship.”
Whatever Brenna had expected him to say, that wasn’t it. She looked at him, surprised, nearly at a loss for words. “You own the Majestic?”
“Yes, with two other guys. It’s the first black-owned luxury liner that sails exclusively to the Caribbean Islands and Africa.”
Brenna nodded. “I’m impressed.”
“I’d hoped you would be.”
Brenna met his gaze as he sat down beside her on the sofa. “Why?”
Trent’s eyes sparkled. “First we eat. Then you can ask me anything you want.”
Brenna lifted an arched brow. “Anything?”
His lips curved into a sensuous smile. “Within reason.”
“Anything else you want to know?”
Brenna smiled. After she and Trent finished dinner, her questions had begun, and he had told her everything she wanted to know. He lived in Jacksonville, Florida, most of the time, but was looking into buying a second home in Chicago, the other location of his family business. He had tried working with his father, but when he’d seen that wouldn’t work he had gone out on his own. A year ago he and two business associates had pooled their resources and had purchased the Majestic. With its current success they were looking into the purchase of another cruise liner, one that would sail out of Florida instead of New York. She also learned that his only other living relative was an uncle named Paul, and that his best friend was a man named Nicholas Chenault. He had even gone so far as to share with her his fear that his father was ill, and wasn’t telling him about it. And most importantly, he did believe in God, although he had admitted he didn’t make it to church every Sunday.
“Yes, there is something else,” she finally answered. “It’s the question I asked earlier. Why did you want to impress me?”
There was a moment of silence while Trent wondered just how he should answer her question. During the two and a half weeks he’d spent with her he had succumbed to every sensual thing about her. However, the one thing that stood between them was her belief that two people had to be totally committed to each other before they shared a bed. Since he had no intention of committing himself to any woman anytime soon, he found the thought of celibacy difficult, nearly impossible to live with. Single people engaged in safe sex all the time, if for nothing more than to ease their raging hormones—nothing personal, nothing serious, and definitely not anything of the magnitude that would require a commitment.
“Trent, why did you want to impress me tonight?” Brenna repeated.
Trent took a deep breath and decided to be completely honest with her. “Because I want you.”
Brenna laced her fingers on the table in front of her. He wasn’t the first man who had told her that he wanted her, but none of the others had mattered. “Oh, I see,” she said softly, looking at him.
“No, I don’t think you do.” He chuckled, and she became taken with the husky sexy sound of it. She wondered if there was anything about him that she wasn’t taken with.
“I want you to understand, Brenna, that my wanting you doesn’t mean I only think of you as a bunch of body parts. What it means is that I want all of you, your mind and your body. When it comes to you I can’t separate the two, and I pity any men who’ve tried. You’re a very intelligent woman, but you’re just as sexy as you are intelligent. The plain simple truth is that I like every single thing about you. But I’m a man, and the man in me desperately wants you as a woman.”
Brenna took a deep breath. She’d noted that he’d said he desperately wanted her. He hadn’t mentioned love.
She watched as he got out of his chair and came around the table. He offered his hand to her. “Want to go out on the balcony for a while?”
“Yes, I’d love to.” She placed her hand in his, wondering if he was about to take his seduction of her to the next level and just how she would handle it if he did. She certainly wasn’t indifferent to him. It only took a smile from him to make her feel all hot and bothered, or just his touch to make her heart race. If the truth were known, she probably wanted him just as much as he wanted her. But the major difference was that she loved him, as well.
The ocean at night was still, quiet, peaceful. Brenna leaned into Trent’s masculine side as he wrapped his arms around her, protecting her against the evening chill. Then slowly, deliberately, he turned her around in his arms and kissed her. The intensity of his kiss made her realize how true his words had been when he’d said he had wanted her. And now he was showing her just how much with his kiss. That emotion she felt whenever he kissed her returned, sending a comfortable feeling from the top of her head all the way through to her heart, the heart that was singing her love for him. She returned his kiss in the same hungry heated way, deciding that if she could not have all of him she would have to settle for this…for now.
So she gloried in the feel of his mouth on hers, and the feel of being held in his arms.
The need to breathe broke them apart sometime later.
Trent’s breath caught in his throat when an emotion he had never felt before hit him full force. Not understanding it, not accepting it, he took a step back. “It’s been a long day, Brenna. I think we should go to bed, don’t you?” The sound of his voice was throaty, sensuous, and persuasive.
Brenna could only nod, knowing the moment had arrived and not knowing how she felt about it. She knew that she loved him, and if this time on the cruise was to be all she had with him, then she would accept that. Corinthians was right—she was a forever-kind-of-girl—but for once she would trade in forever for just this one time with him. Her pulse quickened as Trent led her back into the cabin, still holding her hand.
“Come on, I’ll walk you back to your cabin,” he said in a soft voice.
Brenna stopped walking and pulled her hands from his. She wondered if she had misunderstood him. “To my cabin?”
“Yes.”
“But I thought…” She didn’t finish what she had been about to say, and she glanced across the room at the huge king-size bed.
Trent’s hands came up to her shoulders and caressed her there. “You thought I invited you here to seduce you,” he finished for her.
“Didn’t you?”
He smiled. “Yes. But the crazy thing, Brenna, is that now I can’t go through with it.”
“Why?”
He breathed in deeply. He’d had it all planned. His idea of an end to a perfect evening was getting her into his bed and taking them both up in flames. But somehow Brenna St. James had gotten to him on a level he hadn’t counted on. “Because,” he finally said, “from the first you set the ground rules. You want commitment. You want forever.”
Tension twisted inside Brenna. Yes, she wanted those things. What woman didn’t? But she was realistic enough to know that while most women wanted those things, most men didn’t. They saw commitment as a shackle around their necks. “And you don’t want those things?”
His hands moved from her shoulders to the small of her waist. Right now he wasn’t sure what he wanted, other than her. “Maybe I will one day, but not now. And I won’t lie and say I do want them to take advantage of you.”
He pulled her closer to him, feeling the need to explain further. “Four years ago I was engaged to a woman who declared she wouldn’t sleep with me until after we were married. I didn’t find out until a few weeks before the wedding that that was her game plan. She knew how much I wanted her, and held herself from me to assure that I’d marry her. I walked in on her bragging about it to her friends.”
Brenna frowned. “And you think that’s what I’m doing, Trent? You think I’m holding myself from you just to get you to commit yourself to me?”
Trent shook his head. “No. I don’t believe you’d try using sex that way. I genuinely believe that you want more from a relationship than merely sharing a bed with a man. And there’s nothing wrong with that. In fact, I find it commendable that you feel you’re worth more than a toss between the sheets.”
He placed a tender kiss on her lips before continuing. “What you said a few days ago has stuck with me. You’re right. There has to be more to a relationship than sex. But right now that’s all I want. I’m not ready for a commitment of any kind. I don’t want anything serious, nothing forever, just good safe sex.”
“What about love?”
“Love has nothing to do with it.”
Brenna nodded slowly, hearing and understanding just what he was saying. He had pretty much put it bluntly. She was a forever-kind-of girl, but he wasn’t a forever-kind-of-guy. She took a deep calming breath, then said, “I’m ready to go back to my cabin now.”