Captivated: Letting Go\Seize the Night (Cosmo Red-Hot Reads from Harlequin) (9 page)

“What were you doing, listening to my conversation?” Colleen fought for outrage but narrowly missed it.

“The whole office could hear you. The walls in here are shit.” Mark shook his head, mock sorrow all over his face that faded into a stern look. “Listen up. All Steve knows is how to be bitter, bitter and more bitter because you didn’t want spend the rest of your life catering to his every whim.”

“He’s not wrong about me, Mark. I do like things a certain way. I do like to be in charge.”

“And?” Mark demanded, and waited for her to answer. When she didn’t, he sneered. “Any man who can’t deal with a strong, capable woman who knows her own mind doesn’t deserve her. The truth is, and listen to your Uncle Marky on this one, Steve was too intimidated by you. He was scared of you. And that’s his problem, not yours. If this bartender gave you a good time, where’s the harm?”

“I liked being with him.”

“That’s the way it works, Colleen. You meet someone. You hit it off. You like them—”

She shook her head. “He did things for me, Mark.”

“I assumed so.”

She made a face at his lecherous expression. “No. I mean, other things. He fixed my fireplace and shoveled out my car. I started to like him. And when we didn’t talk, I missed him. And I didn’t want to get used to him being there, to needing him.”

There is was, out in the open, sounding so stupid she couldn’t believe she’d admitted it. She pressed her lips together, thinking of all the times Steve had done or said things to convince her she wasn’t capable of taking care of herself. Of how he’d done worse things than that to keep her dependent on him. Needing him.

“I didn’t want to be what Steve said I was.”

Mark got up then and came around to sit on the edge of the desk in front of her. “Colleen, you could never be what Steve said you are. Not ever.”

Her shoulders slumped. She didn’t want to cry in Mark’s office, though she’d certainly had more than a few breakdowns in there. Not for a couple years, though. She didn’t want to backslide. When her boss put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently, Colleen let out a long, slow sigh.

“Look,” Mark said. “My brother is a giant dick of the highest order. He gets it from our father, who was the king of Megadick Mountain. Some people, Steve included, I’m sure, think his behavior is excusable because of how we were raised, but the truth is, you either let that shit weigh you down forever, or you get over it and make something of your life that’s not broken because of what your parents did to you. My brother is a douche with control issues and a drinking problem, and he treated you terribly, and I’m sorry. But the longer you let him make you feel like shit about who you are because he feels that way about himself, the longer you have to deal with feeling like shit. Get out there and get what you want, Colleen.”

She gave him a small, hard smile. “Is that your version of a pep talk?”

“So I won’t win any awards for motivational speaking.” Mark shrugged and went back to his chair. “But you know I’m right.”

She stared at him for half a minute before nodding. “Yeah. I know you’re right.”

“So tell him that. Apologize if you have to, eat crow. Get on your knees and beg him for another chance.” Mark narrowed his eyes, looking her over. “Or make him get on his, if that’s your flavor. But whatever you do, don’t let him walk out of your life.”

“He didn’t walk out. I threw him out.” The admission rasped on her tongue, the truth barbed.

Mark shrugged. “Then admit you were stupid and go after him. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“I could want him and need him, and he could let me down.” Saying it out loud sounded so dumb she had to laugh. “But I already want him.”

“So, let yourself need him, too.”

Colleen sighed. “I’m not very good at letting go.”

Mark leaned forward on the desk. “Take your Uncle Marky’s advice, Colleen. Get better at it.”

Chapter Eleven

The paperwork had all been put into place. The amount of the loan that she’d thought so daunting was the price of freedom, and you couldn’t put a price on that, could you? All of it had taken only two weeks to put together. Colleen tapped the papers neatly together and slipped them into the folder, capped her fountain pen and slipped it into the soft felt case, then tucked it into her purse. She straightened, smoothing her skirt and brushing off her blouse, then patted her hair into place.

She was ready to kick some ass.

“You did something different with your hair,” Steve said when she sat down at the table. “I liked it better the other way.”

Colleen had never liked this restaurant, which was why she’d agreed to come here. At least nothing that happened today could ruin it for her. “I’m sure you did.”

“You changed the color? What?”

“I haven’t done anything to it, Steve. That’s why it’s different. I haven’t done anything to it.” No cut, perm, color, highlights, nothing. Colleen took a calming breath. This wasn’t about her hair. She slid the folder across the table to him. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Over with? C’mon, something to eat. The pasta here’s great. Remember?” Steve gave her what she was sure was meant to be a winning grin, but it left her unmoved. And the glint in his eyes that used to make her anxious left her just as unconcerned.

She’d changed. She pushed the folder with her fingertips. “I don’t care for anything, thank you. I’d like to go over this stuff with you and get out of here. I’ve got things to do.”

Steve sat and stared at her, not touching the folder. In fact, he’d recoiled from it, as though it were covered in slime. He took a long drink from his glass of ice water.

“What is this?”

“I’d like to buy you out of the beach property.” Colleen folded her hands in her lap. “I’ve pulled together all the financials on it and I’ve prepared an offer that I think is more than fair.”

“You can’t afford to buy me out. You need me to be able to afford it.” He said it so smugly, so arrogantly, that if it weren’t for the flash of genuine fear in his eyes, Colleen would’ve hated him.

As it was, for the first time in dealing with him, instead of anger or fear, Colleen felt some pity for Steve. “I can, actually. You don’t have to accept my offer, certainly, but if you don’t, you’re going to have to buy me out. I’m willing to take the same agreement.”

“You can’t give up the condo. You love the beach too much.”

If he bought her out, she could buy another condo, or even a cute bungalow. “I do love the beach, Steve, but I don’t love sharing it with you. And I don’t want to do it any longer. You’ve made every part of owning this property an utter hell. Kind of like our marriage.”

His jaw dropped. Colleen was shocked she’d said it, too, but once the words were out, it was as though each of them had been a brick stacked up on her shoulders and speaking them aloud had knocked them all to the ground. Her hands twisted, fingers tangling in her lap.

“Let me buy you out,” she said. “You don’t want that condo, not really. You only kept it as a way to control me.”

His reaction showed her that she’d made a point. A really sharp one, and it had poked him someplace tender. He still didn’t open the folder.

“You can’t afford it,” he repeated, with less assurance. “You...you need me.”

Colleen smiled. “I assure you, I can. And I don’t. But that’s really not your business, is it?”

“I don’t want to see you get yourself in trouble, that’s all.”

“I’m not your problem anymore, Steve.”

They stared at each other across the table, and in that moment, it wasn’t difficult for her to remember that once upon a time, a long time ago, she’d looked at this man with love in her eyes. A lot had come between them since then. She would never love him again. But she didn’t have to let what had happened between them define her any longer.

Angrily, he flipped open the folder and thumbed through the pages. His shoulders slumped as he went over everything she’d put together. The layout of the financials, the division of items in the property, the amount she was prepared to offer up front and the timetable for the two additional lump sum payments she’d planned for.

“You’ve done a lot of work on this.”

She nodded. Steve sighed and flipped through more pages. There wasn’t much else to see. She’d made all of it as straight-forward as possible. He could keep most of the furnishings and decorative items, and she’d pay him slightly over half of what they still owed on the property. Still, she wouldn’t have put it past him to argue with her about it. Or even flat out refuse.

“I never liked that place. Everything’s damp all the time. And it’s cheap, shoddy construction. And the town is shit. If I want a vacation place, I’m going to get one in the Caribbean.”

“You’ll be able to do whatever you want,” Colleen said.

Steve frowned. “I don’t have a pen.”

“I have one.”

She passed him one she had ready from her purse. Not the fountain pen, but a cheap stick pen that, sure enough, he tucked into his pocket when he’d finished. She didn’t even think he did it on purpose, it was just Steve’s habit to consider everything he touched to be his. He shoved the folder back toward her.

It was her turn not to touch it. It had been a huge step for her, the last step toward completely breaking free of Steve and their marriage. The money situation was definitely nerve-racking, even though she’d run the numbers a couple dozen times and knew she could do it.

She could do all of this.

“Thanks,” she told him sincerely. “This means a lot to me. Thank you.”

“Don’t come crying to me when you’re defaulting on your loan and can’t pay the mortgage on that hipster row house you bought. I told you not to,” Steve added. “Fell’s Point isn’t any place for anyone to really
live
.”

Colleen smiled. “I love it there.”

“Well. It’s just...fine.” Steve drained his glass of ice water. “You want to drink to it?”

It was a test to see if she’d encourage him. So he could blame her for falling off the wagon. “No, thanks.”

“Still uptight, huh?” His grin, all teeth, had no humor in it.

But instead of being stung, Colleen only smiled a little wider. She took the folder and double-checked that all the signatures were where they belonged, then stood and tucked the folder under her arm. She didn’t offer her hand. He wouldn’t have taken it, anyway.

“Good luck, Steve. Take care.”

He called after her, as she knew he would. Loud, belligerent, not caring that he turned heads. Convinced he was charming enough that everyone was chuckling along with him instead of shaking their heads in disapproval. But though he shouted her name a few times, increasingly louder and more strident, Colleen didn’t turn around.

* * *

Another Thursday night, but Jesse didn’t bother looking up to see if Colleen was going to walk through the Angel’s door. She wasn’t going to. And even if she did come into the bar to sit at that same stool and not drink that same glass of whiskey, why should it matter to him? She’d made it clear enough that she wasn’t interested in anything to do with him.

That sucked.

He hadn’t known her long enough to feel this disappointed. It was stupid. And lame. And dammit, he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

He spent an hour in the basement, cataloging boxes of sugar packets and bottles of mustard and cartons of napkins. By the time he came upstairs, he’d managed to calm himself a little, at least enough so that when the bell jingled again, he didn’t want to jump over the bar and pummel the crap out of the person who wasn’t Colleen.

It was, to both Jesse and John’s surprise, The Fallen Angel’s owner. Rick Benjamin hardly ever came into the bar himself. Now he stamped snow off his boots and off the shoulders of his heavy winter coat.

“We’re closing,” he said to John. To the customers gathered around the tables and sitting at the bar, he announced, “Listen, folks, the weather report says that instead of another inch or so, we’re looking at a possible six to ten, along with freezing rain. I got an update from the power company that outages are likely. My advice to all of you is to head home and stay safe and warm.”

“Again?” John said. “Who pissed off Mother Nature?”

Jesse was already gathering up the few empty glasses and putting them in the plastic bin to take back to the kitchen. At Rick’s warning, everyone in the bar got up and started putting on their coats.

“Scattered like the wind,” John said. “Look at them go.”

Rick snorted with laughter and looked at Jesse. “Leave that stuff. It’s bad out there and getting worse. I’m closing up tonight and for tomorrow, too, just to be safe. I’ll let everyone know how Saturday’s looking. But get out of here.”

As Jesse grabbed his own coat, his phone buzzed. Laila’s school, announcing another day closed. He texted Diane to make sure she and the kid were okay, then headed to his car. Rick had been right. It would’ve been smart for him to head straight home and get out of the storm, but he remembered there was nothing in the fridge but some ready-to-expire yogurt and some limp celery. Jesse frowned as he pulled into the grocery store parking lot. Better stock up, he thought, before he was snowed in—sadly, by himself this time.

* * *

Spring couldn’t get here fast enough, Colleen thought as she snagged one of the last carts at the grocery store and managed to avoid being run over by a woman who’d filled her buggy with bulk packages of toilet paper. The small grocery store didn’t carry a lot of stock as it was, but even so the aisles were incredibly picked over. She was able to grab some salad and a bag of apples, as well as some canned spaghetti and ravioli. Also some sardines, because what the hell, if she was going to prepare for what looked to be the Snowpocalypse, she might as well make sure she had a wide variety of things on which she could survive. Besides, she didn’t have to fight anyone for the sardines. She’d have shoved someone for one of those packages of Oreos, though.

“Oh,” she said, startled. “Hi.”

Jesse turned, the last package of cookies in his hand. He looked good. Beard a little scruffy, hair rumpled where it showed beneath the navy stocking cap. He didn’t smile when he saw her, and that broke her heart a little.

“You’ve got my favorite,” she told him.

He didn’t look at the cookies. Just at her. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Oreos. My favorite. Think we could snag some milk to go with them? The shelves are getting picked pretty bare.” She kept her voice light. Casual. But she made sure to keep eye contact.

Jesse stepped to one side to show her the cart his body had been hiding before. In it, a gallon jug of milk, a few bags of potato chips, some paper plates and napkins. He had a box of white utility candles, too. He didn’t say anything. Just let her look.

“In case the power goes out?” she asked, pointing at the disposables.

He nodded.

“Milk and cookies by candlelight. Could be romantic.”

His mouth twitched the tiniest amount. She couldn’t blame him for keeping his smile tethered down. She couldn’t blame herself for trying to tease one out of him anyway. She held up her sardines without saying anything, just a wiggle of her brows she meant to be deliberately strange and suggestive.

Jesse gave in. He laughed, she laughed with him and suddenly everything seemed as though it might actually be okay. Colleen took a chance and stepped closer. He didn’t move away.

“I missed you,” Jesse blurted out and looked instantly as though he regretted it.

Her heart broke more than a little this time. She moved near enough to touch his face. The way he closed his eyes at her touch told her everything she needed to know. Everything she’d been hoping was true.

“I missed you, too.” Then she kissed him. Right there in the middle of the store, oblivious to anyone who might be watching, not giving a damn if she was making a mistake. She kissed him, kissed him, kissed him.

Jesse kissed her back. His arms went around her, squeezing hard enough to crackle the cookie package. She didn’t care. All that mattered was that he was holding her. That she had a chance to make things okay, if she was willing to take it. It might not work out. She might have to eat crow, like Mark said. And even then it might be too late.

But she had to try.

“Come home with me,” Colleen said against his mouth. “Let’s get snowed in together.”

Jesse drew back enough to look into her eyes. She wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d seen hesitation there, wouldn’t have blamed him for saying no. But, as with everything else he’d ever done, Jesse didn’t disappoint her.

“Yes,” he said. “Let’s go.”

* * * * *