Deliver Me (22 page)

Yet, Monica was
unbearably conscious of every time Eli’s sultry gaze fell upon her from his
place behind the wheel.

They arrived at her
apartment building, and like the perfect gentleman, Eli again, opened the door
for both her and for Nia. Monica clutched his proffered hand tightly, grateful
for the support.

“I’ll walk the two
of you upstairs,” he offered. He placed his hand at the small of her back as he
followed them upstairs. She had been trying to steel herself against the
effects of his heated stares and velvety soft words, but that one touch was
enough to make her faint.

“I’m getting too old
for this,” Nia said. “It’s just after midnight and I’m about to drop. That was
a joke,” she said after neither Monica nor Eli responded to her quip.

Nia looked back,
giving them both a curious look.

Monica shot her a
wan smile, but she could tell by the slight upward curve of Nia’s mouth that
her best friend had correctly read the situation.

They arrived at her
front door. Monica could have kicked herself for not getting the key out
sooner. She searched through her black clutch and came up with the key.

Nia grabbed it out
of her hand and quickly opened the door. “I’ll be in the shower,” she said,
closing the door behind her and leaving Monica and Eli in the hallway.

Monica turned to
face Eli. “Thanks for putting up with us,” she said softly.

She could tell by
the look in his eyes he was nowhere near ready to leave. Monica could not deal
with this tonight. Her scattered brain was still too fraught with the dozens of
conflicting emotions that had plagued her since the second she chose to take
him up on that ill-fated plan. Of all the colossal mistakes and bad judgment
calls she had ever made—and she’d made aplenty—Monica had a feeling
this pretend dating scheme was at the top of the list.

Because she did not
want it to be pretend anymore.

Her mind fought
against the revelation. She knew better than to let her heart get involved. It
had let her down too many times before. Yet just thinking about how it had felt
to be pressed against his decadent body had her heart turning over within her
chest.

But she would
not
allow it to be broken again.

“Is that all you’re
going to say?” Eli asked, his deep voice reverberating off the walls of her
brain.

Monica decided to
play the whole thing off as if it wasn’t that big of a deal. He’d said he wasn’t
looking for a relationship either. Maybe pretending that her reaction tonight
was just a part of the charade was the way to get this situation back on a
platonic plane.

Monica shrugged. “It
was a fun night.”

“That’s all it was,
a fun night?”

“What else do you
want me to say, Dr. Holmes?”

“Don’t start with
the Dr. Holmes again, Monica.”

She stretched her
hands out in front of her, putting on her best-bewildered act. “What do you
expect me to say?” she asked again.

Eli crossed his arms
over his muscular chest. “We can’t deny what happened tonight,” he stated
bluntly.

“Nothing happened,”
Monica replied. She turned, intending to go into her apartment, but Eli cut
around, placing himself between Monica and the door.

“Are you saying you
didn’t feel anything while we were dancing?”

“Except for the
obvious, you mean?”

His expression
hardened. “It was a natural reaction, brought on by something I know you felt,
too.” He stared at her, his brown eyes piercing. He stepped in close, his body
encasing her. Monica felt her back pressing into the door with each staggered
breath she took. “I saw the way you looked at me. I
felt
the way you looked at me,” he whispered with fierce intensity.
“Do you expect me to believe you didn’t feel that, too?”

Monica shuddered,
even as her blood began to simmer at the passion flowing off his body in waves.
“Eli, please, I can’t handle this right now. Just go home.”

“I didn’t expect
this either, Monica.” His voice dropped to a gentle tone that was nearly her
undoing.

“Eli, please,” she
pleaded. If he didn’t leave right now she was going to lose it.

Everything in his
stare said he didn’t want to go, but after a moment he stepped back. “We’ll
talk about this tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at noon.”

“I thought you said
two o’clock.”

“That’s what time we’ll
get to Mama’s, but you and I need to talk.” Without another word, he turned and
headed down the hall.

Monica’s eyelids
slid shut. She pressed the back of her head against the door.

This was more than
just a mistake. It was a disaster.

The tiny backing for
her earring fell to the hardwood floor with a soft ping.

“Great,” Amanda
hissed. If she stooped down to look for it, it would take her an hour to get up
from the floor. Amanda closed her eyes and took a deep, irritated breath.

She fumbled through
her wooden jewelry box searching for another pair of earrings that would match
her dress and shoes, but came up with nothing.

She was being
punished. She was convinced.

She crossed the
hallway from the guest bedroom to the master suite.

She had kept her
distance from this part of the house. The memories were too strong, even though
she and Jeffrey had not been man and wife, in the true sense of the phrase, for
some time now. Well, except for the night she had become pregnant.

The door was opened
slightly. She pushed it a fraction wider, but stopped at the sight of Jeffrey’s
naked torso.

He had a gorgeous
body. Always had. She still missed snuggling up next to it at night. Even
though her bipolar medications carried a risk of sexual side effects, until
last year she and Jeffrey had never had a problem in that arena.

She stared
wordlessly as Jeffrey pulled a plain white T-shirt over his head. He picked up
a salmon-colored button down shirt from the bed.

“Jeffrey,” Amanda
said, opening the door the rest of the way and entering the room.

His head came up,
his eyes darting to her stomach, which she cradled in her palms.

“What’s wrong?” he
asked, his voice etched with concern.

“Oh, nothing like
that,” Amanda answered, quickly dropping her hands. Now she felt even more of a
fool for asking what she was about to ask. “I need your help.”

She noticed his head
rear back slightly and there was no mistaking the hint of surprise on his face.

“What do you need?”
He slowly drew his arms through the sleeves of his shirt.

“My earring. I
dropped the backing. If I try to get it myself I’ll never get up.”

The makings of a
smile crept onto Jeffrey’s face, lifting one corner of his mouth into that sexy
grin she had fallen in love with. Jeffrey strode to where she stood, stopping
only inches in front of her. He was so close Amanda had to tilt her head up to
see his face.

“What does it look
like?” he asked. His voice had dropped at least an octave.

It took a second for
his question to register. For some reason, her mind had become infatuated with
looking into his golden brown eyes.

“Uh...like this.”
Amanda tilted her head to the side and brushed the hair from around her ear. “It’s
the little gold thing on the back that keeps the earring in place. It should be
right around the dresser, if it didn’t roll too far when it hit the floor.”

Without another
word, Jeffrey left the master suite.

Amanda looked around
the room. This was the first time she had been back in here since the day she’d
packed her bags and left.

Not much had
changed. He’d replace the bedding, but then, Amanda knew he would. Jeffrey
hated the lilac, floral comforter she’d purchased. He preferred the old white
bedspread that was nearly threadbare.

Amanda tried not to
glance at the tall chest of drawers to her right, but like telling someone not
to think of a white elephant, her eyes went straight to it, and the picture she
knew she would find there. It was the one of her and Jeffrey on a beach in
Montego Bay, encased in a handmade frame decorated with various seashells they
had collected from the shore.

That trip had been
one of the happiest times in her life, right before they had made the decision
to start a family. She wondered how different things would be if they had
chosen to remain a childless couple.

She’d had the
disease under control. Her doctor had found a drug regimen that kept both the
mania and depression in check, even through the years of fertility treatments.
It was when she’d actually conceived for the first time and her chaotic
hormones had interfered with the drugs’ effectiveness that things started
spiraling out of control.

Amanda placed a
reverent had on her belly. She was willing to pay any price to have this baby,
even her marriage. Dr. Berkenshire had tried to convince her that a divorce was
not necessary, but Amanda knew how Jeffrey felt about living with someone with
bipolar. She refused to subject him to a life of misery, the way her mother had
subjected her father.

But, God, she would
miss him.

Jeffrey returned,
the tiny gold earring backing between his thumb and forefinger. His shirt was
unbuttoned, and the T-shirt underneath clung to his chiseled chest and stomach.

“Do you need help
putting it on?” he asked.

Yes. No. She didn’t
know. When had this deluge of confusion overcome her body? Why did she all of a
sudden picture herself in her soon-to-be ex-husband’s arms?

Amanda’s head started to pound. Looking into his eyes, she
fought back tears. An overwhelming flood of dread washed over her, weighing
down on her chest, nearly smothering her.

Oh, God, her head
hurt. She couldn’t breathe. It felt as if the blood was rushing through her
veins.

Why was her head
spinning? What was she doing here? Why was she in her old bedroom? And with
Jeffrey?

How could she be around him after what he’d done to her? The
man had crushed her heart. She’d seen it with her own eyes. He had thrown
eleven years of marriage away on a tramp who wasn’t worth the fake Jimmy Choo
shoes she’d been wearing the day Amanda saw them together.

She had to get away
from here. From him.

Stop it
, Amanda chided herself. It wasn’t true. Jeffrey would never cheat on
her.

But she’d seen them together!

“I’ve got it,”
Amanda said, snatching the backing from his fingers. She turned to leave, but
Jeffrey stopped her, grabbing her shoulder.

“Amanda, wait.”

“Let go of me,” she
growled between clutched teeth. “I need to finish getting ready for church.”

“No. We need to
talk.”

“I said let go of
me.” Amanda tried to move, but his grasp was firm.

“Dammit, Amanda, I’m
tired of this. Would you sit down and talk to me?”

She spun out of his
hold, her body shaking in anger.

“Do you think I care
about what you’re tired of, Jeffrey? Do you think I care about what
you
want? I’m tired of a lot of things,
too, like a lying, cheating husband.” His stunned expression didn’t register.
She could see nothing pass her own fury and confusion. God, she was so
confused.

No
, she tried to tell herself. Jeffery wouldn’t betray her.

But she saw them
!

“I’m tired of living
here with you, pretending everything is okay when we both know it’s not,” she
screamed. “I’m tired of having to look at your face and remember what you did
to me. I can’t do it anymore, Jeffrey? It’s over! I don’t care how many flowers
you bring, or gourmet dinners you prepare. Nothing is going to change. It’s
over
!
”

Amanda stormed out
of the room, barely making it to the guestroom before collapsing on the bed in
a heap of silent sobs.

***

When Eli found
himself standing before Monica’s front door for the second time in twelve
hours, he felt better than he had the first time. He could hardly sleep last
night, thoughts about the impending conversation taking precedence over
everything, even sleep.

After the explosion
of mutual desire they had shared at the club last night, Eli was determined to
take this so-called pretend relationship to another level.

Alex was right. It
was stupid to write off all female doctors because of the actions of one.
Monica was not Elizabeth. Monica possessed scruples, something that other woman
wouldn’t know about.

Eli did not deny she
was using him, just as Elizabeth had, but at least Monica was truthful about
it. She had not tried to manipulate him into helping her with the banquet. She
was honest, and one hundred, eighty degrees different from Elizabeth Graves.