From This Day Forward (3 page)

But by the time she’d made it back to her room after drinking her white wine too quickly, suddenly she was feeling a whole lot less “modern career woman” and a lot more “lust-addled moron.”

The entire time she’d been getting ready she’d tried to talk herself out of dinner—they could divvy up photography tasks by email, for God’s sake. Or by daylight. Safe, rational, very unsexy daylight.

She’d tried to remember all of the pain, all of the reasons she absolutely should keep her distance.

And even after she’d met him in the lobby, her brain had tried to come up with rationalizations: that she hadn’t wanted to eat alone, that she’d wanted to prove to him and herself that she was over him.

But the truth was, sitting across from him today when he’d come to terrorize her in the lobby bar of their hotel had caused memories to come flooding back, and not the bad ones. At least not
just
the bad ones.

So tonight—for tonight only—she was letting herself take a walk down memory lane with blinders on. To remember what it had been like when they could talk for hours, the way he could make her laugh . . . and yes, maybe the way his cinnamon-flavored tongue had tasted, the way it had felt when it trailed down her neck and lower . . .

Leah coughed and gulped some water. Both Alexis and Jason were staring at her. Alexis in amusement, Jason with a sexy-eyed smolder, as though he knew
exactly
what she was thinking.

Alexis cleared her throat. “So the hotel’s good?”

“Yes,
gorgeous
,” Leah said, latching on to something to think about other than Jason’s hands and tongue. “How’d you get it on such short notice?”

Alexis lifted a shoulder. “Can’t take credit for it. Mr. Preston rented out the entire B and B for the wedding vendors. The florist, videographer, me, you guys . . .”

Alexis continued speaking. Something about the schedule and a snafu with the chair covers for the reception and how the singer of the band had a throat tickle.

But Leah had stopped listening, and from the heat coming off Jason, she had a feeling he had, too.

His eyes drifted down, resting on her lips before he slowly let his gaze run over the rest of her, lingering on all the spots she wanted him to touch.

Alexis looked at Leah. “Do you want to grab a drink later?”

“Hmm?” Leah asked, still distracted by the heat in Jason’s gaze.

Alexis snorted. “I’m thinking that’s a no on the drink, then.”

Leah forced herself to look up at her friend, who lifted an amused eyebrow. “No, I’d love to grab a drink,” she blurted, her enthusiasm sounding forced even to her own ears. “Jason and I will be done soon.”

“No,” he interrupted, “we won’t.”

Leah opened her mouth to retort, but Alexis’s soft touch on her shoulder stopped her. “Call me later.”

“Wait, I—”

But Alexis had already moved away with a playful wink.

“Damn it, Jason,” Leah said, glaring at him. “Why’d you let her think that we were . . . you know.”

He picked up his wineglass and pinned her with a wide-eyed, innocent gaze. “We were what?”

“Never mind,” she muttered. “I can’t talk to you when you’re like this.”

“Charming?” he asked.

“Presumptuous,” she corrected. “Contrary to the delusions in your head, you’re not every woman’s fantasy.”

“I never wanted to be every woman’s fantasy. Just yours.”

Leah froze at the unexpected seriousness in his voice. “Jason . . .”

“Do you want dessert?” he asked abruptly.

Leah closed her eyes to ward off the conversational whiplash. “We’re talking about dessert now?”

“You used to have a sweet tooth.”

She still did, but right now, food was just about the last thing on her mind. “No, I’m fine. Unless you want something.”

Jason’s smile was quick and hungry. “Oh, I want something, Red. I don’t think I’ve ever
stopped
wanting.” He pushed back his chair, stood up, threw some bills onto the table, and stretched out his hand. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

T
he restaurant Jason had chosen was just a few doors down from the B and B where they were staying, but although the walk was only five minutes, it was five
long
minutes along the beach.

As in, Leah McHale was taking an unintentional moonlight beach stroll with Jason Rhodes.

She shoved her fists into the pockets of her cardigan as she kept up as quick of a pace as the sand would allow, lest he get any hand-holding ideas. But then, this was Jason. He didn’t hold hands so much as screw you, both literally and figuratively.

Jason held the front door to their hotel open for her, and wordlessly, Leah preceded him in. It was early yet, so a handful of people sat in the lobby, quietly sipping cocktails and laughing.

“Drink?” Jason asked quietly.

She shook her head. “I like to get a good eight hours of sleep before a job.”

His smile was fleeting. “I know.”

It had always been a thing with them. As wedding photographers, they’d quite often shared the same schedule: jam-packed weekends with slower Mondays and Tuesdays dedicated to long hours of photo editing and printing. And yet, even with the overlap in their schedules, they’d never quite gotten the sleep thing down.

Jason was a night owl, preferring to stay up into the wee hours, regardless of what time his wake-up call was later, and then crashing the next day as needed.

Leah liked her routine; she got eight hours as consistently as she could.

But if anything had been able to tempt Leah away from her routine, it had definitely been this man with his talented hands and wicked mouth.

“You can stay and hang out,” Leah said, nodding at the direction of the cozy reception area.

He said nothing as he followed her down the hallway toward their rooms—their
connecting
rooms.

She’d tried not to let it be a big deal, but suddenly with the safety of daytime behind them and with the warm buzz of her wine flowing through her veins, the shared wall suddenly felt like a
very
big deal.

Leah paused in front of her room, digging her key out of her purse. “Well, good night,” she said, her hand already extending toward the lock.

Long, warm fingers closed around her wrist, and Leah’s breath caught. “Damn it, Rhodes—”

His eyes were searching her face. “Am I alone here, Red? Am I the only one feeling . . . something?”

She pulled her hand free and turned to face him, trying to ignore how close he was—trying to ignore that she’d only need to lean forward the
slightest
bit to put her lips to his.

“I’m not saying the chemistry’s not there,” she said carefully. “That’s not the problem.”

“Then what
is
the problem, Red?”

Leah felt a tantrum start to burn low in her belly. She’d been willing enough to play along in his effort to ignore their history in the interest of professionalism, but his playing dumb was more than she could handle.

She moved closer, although this time it was in simmering anger rather than white-hot want. “My problem is that I thought we had something, Jason. I realize we weren’t exchanging rings and love notes. I know we never agreed to exclusivity. But I thought we were at least to the point of being honest to each other. If you wanted to sleep around, why not just
tell
me?”

“You didn’t give me a chance to tell you anything.”

She let out a harsh little laugh. “Right. This is
my
fault.”

“I’m just saying you’re pretty quick to play the victim card for someone who didn’t care enough to get all the facts.”

Leah spread her hands out to the side. “All right. Let’s hear ’em. Let’s hear the
facts
.”

His gaze was hot with anger. “Sure. I’ll just spill my guts to the woman who walked away without a second glance.”

“Because you hurt me!” she burst out, her voice cracking. “You hurt me, Jason, and I couldn’t—I can’t—”

Leah’s head dipped forward in defeat, resting against the door, her eyes closing as she realized she didn’t know what she was trying to say. And even if she figured it out, she wasn’t at all sure she’d want to let Jason Rhodes into that part of her.

“You weren’t the only one that got burned that day,” he said, voice tense with anger. “You’re awfully high and mighty for someone who gave a guy the silent treatment. For a year.”

“Because we had nothing to say to each other.”

“Bullshit,” Jason snapped. “What the
hell
were we doing all summer if we can’t so much as give the other person a chance to explain?”

“Fine. Explain,” Leah said, crossing her arms over her chest.

His eyes were dark and angry. “Would it make a bit of difference? Would you even believe me?”

Leah squeezed her eyes shut. “I can’t un-see her, Jason. I can’t stop reliving that moment when I knocked on your door and she opened wearing your shirt—a shirt I’d bought you—and no pants. Of
course
I didn’t stick around. You told me from the very beginning that you weren’t looking to settle down.”

“Which you were fine with,” he growled softly. “You were just
fine
with the way I could make you come within five seconds of touching you. You didn’t mind when I pulled you into the bedroom or the kitchen or wherever the hell we felt like it and kissed every inch of your body. You didn’t complain when—”

“Stop,” she whispered, putting a hand over his mouth before she could think better of touching him. She yanked her hand back as though she’d been burned.

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “If you tell me you don’t remember it like I remember it, I’ll walk away,” he said quietly. “I’ll go into my room, close the door, and I’ll never mention it again.”

Leah opened her mouth to tell him exactly that—to say or do
anything
to stop this low burn of hunger for him that refused to cool.

No words came out, and Jason pressed forward, his hand finding her waist before his fingers slid forward to curve possessively over her hip.

“You remember it,” he said, pressing his lips to her ear.

Torture
. Having him this close was pure and utter torture.

Somehow, through the haze of her want, Leah heard the sound of approaching laughter coming from the main reception area. Any minute now they’d have an audience, and—

Jason acted for her.

Pulling his key out of his pocket, he slid it into the lock of his room, pushing the door open before pulling her inside and away from prying eyes.

Leah tensed, prepared for him to make a move before she’d properly pep-talked herself on all the reasons they should keep their hands to themselves.

But Jason merely tossed his key on the small table by the door, put his hands on his waist, and turned to face her.

Waiting.

“I need to get to bed,” she whispered.

“So you’ve said.”

“I can’t—I don’t want to do this with you again, Jason. One summer fling is fine, but two is—”

He lifted dark eyebrows. “Two is what?”

Suicide. Ruination. Disaster.

Leah swallowed. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Her hand reached behind her, fumbling for the doorknob. He didn’t try to stop her. Didn’t move or say a single word as she yanked the door open and all but fell into the hall.

As she shoved her own key into the lock of her room, she half expected him to come after her. To use his mouth to remind her of all the reasons she should have stayed.

But he didn’t.

Jason’s door stayed resolutely closed even as Leah opened and shut her own, retreating into the safety of
two
locked doors between them.

She rested her forehead against the doorframe, just for a moment. It was better this way. Safer. It wasn’t that Leah shunned casual sex—she liked it. Especially when it was as good as it was with Jason Rhodes.

But she’d learned the hard way that with
this
man, there was nothing casual about it.

Her heart had gotten tangled in it, and what had started as a dangerous knot had turned into a noose that had nearly strangled her.

It had taken a
year
to get over him.

A smart woman wouldn’t sign herself up for more heartache with a man who seemed determined to bed half the city.

Hell, for that matter, Leah wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if her rejection had rolled right off him, leaving him free to peruse the Hamptons night scene and find some hot young thing who wouldn’t expect a darn thing of him in the morning.

The thought of Jason touching anyone else put a sour taste in her mouth, and she slapped her palm against the door lightly in frustration before dropping her purse on the small desk.

Leah stormed into the bathroom to brush her teeth, determined to clear her mind of all things tall, dark, and handsome so that she could get some much-needed sleep.

Leah brushed and spat with more vigor than usual.

Tomorrow she would wake up and be
glad
she hadn’t reached for Jason. She’d be
glad
he hadn’t kissed her, or that they hadn’t—

There was a knock at the connecting door just as she was reaching for one of her makeup-remover pads.

Leah’s heart pounded as she went to the door and opened it before she could think, finding one very angry, aroused man waiting on the other side, both palms braced on the doorjamb as he leaned in, glowering down at her.

“What?” she whispered.

In response, Jason hooked a hand around the back of her neck, jerking her face up to his even as he used his broad body to back her into the bedroom.

“
This
is what,” he said as he kicked the door closed.

He spun her around so that her back hit the door with a gentle thump, a half second before his mouth closed over hers.