The pain, like annihilation.
I thought I was over him. For years, I’ve thought I was over him, but seeing him again…even for three minutes…right out of the blue…God, it was like being hit by a car going ninety miles an hour. All over again. The instant I saw him, everything I ever felt for him came crashing back down on me, like an avalanche. One that it took me half my life to crawl out from under.
But then, finding out what he did with Pandora just a few minutes after our eyes locked… it was like losing him all over again. The disappointment was devastating. I spent the night holding back tears, both old and new, reminding myself that I left Reese behind a long, long time ago. As I finally drifted off to sleep, I kept reminding myself that I have to leave him in my past, not let him touch my now in the tiniest way.
Yet here I am, listening to his proposition, actually considering it, because he’s dangling the one carrot that could make me question whether or not I should turn around and walk away. For good. Forever.
“What if I’m married? Did you ever think of that?”
For the blink of an eye, I see his nostrils flare in anger, but then Reese surprises me by giving me a half-grin, his sparkling eyes intense as they shine down into mine.
“You’re not married.”
“And how do you know that?”
“Because if you were mine, I would never, ever let you dance like that.” Reese takes another step closer to me, reaching up to touch my cheek with the very tip of one finger. “Unless it was just for me.”
I’m breathless. I shouldn’t be. But I am. “Maybe he just likes to watch me dance,” I say, struggling to keep from falling under the spell of his closeness.
“I wouldn’t blame him. I loved watching you. But I didn’t love everyone else watching you.”
Reese’s eyes flicker down to my mouth, making my lips tingle again. I’m stuck in some surreal place between what was and what is. Some part of me is teetering on the edge of the ocean of passion and desire that Reese and I once drifted within. But another part of me, the scarred part, remembers what it felt like to drown in those waters.
Helpless. And all alone.
I take a step back. “Well I guess it’s a good thing I’m not yours then, right, Reese?”
“But you could be,” he says softly, not moving any closer, eyes just as intense.
My heart is aching in my chest. The girl in me, the one who loved him so deeply so many years ago, wants to run to him, to throw myself in his arms and ask him where he’s been all this time. But the woman in me, the woman who had to clean up the mess of that girl, the one who suffers the echoes of all those tears, knows that there is nothing to run back to. There never was.
“Is that what this is about? You getting another shot at little Kennedy?” I can’t keep the bitterness from my tone, so I don’t even try. “Because I’m not that little girl anymore.”
“Oh, I can see that.”
“I won’t retrace her footsteps, Reese. You should know that now. If you make this offer, and if I accept, it’ll be strictly professional.”
Reese sighs. “I want to help you, Kennedy. I really do. And I will. But I won’t deny that I want you.” He takes one easy step toward me. “Or that I intend to have you.”
My insides quake. His words…the memories…that look in his eyes…
But I reach down deep for the strong Kennedy that rose from the ashes of the girl that knelt at Reese’s feet. I wrap myself in her confidence, in her resolve. It’s her that gives Reese my most stunning smile. “Then I hope you’re okay with disappointment, because there’s no way in hell I’d go down that road again.”
Reese nods his head regally, a silent Touché. It’s as I turn to walk away that he lands his parting shot.
“Just don’t expect me to help you resist me, Kennedy. In fact, I promise you that I’ll make it as hard as I can.”
My legs falter only for a moment as they carry me resolutely, albeit unsteadily, away from Reese.
CHAPTER SEVEN - Reese
There’s no reason for me not to make plans for Kennedy’s arrival on my yacht. Part of it is being sure of myself and my powers of persuasion. I’ve spent most of my life getting what I want. I’ve learned how to do it effectively, no matter who I’m negotiating with. But part of it is anticipation. I’m ready to get this show on the road. I’m anxious to spend some time getting to know this new Kennedy, the one who dances like she’s dancing just for me. The one whose legs are longer than ever. The one whose lips are made just for mine. The one who I’m going to gorge myself on until I can’t stand the sight of her.
I need to get Kennedy in my bed and out of my system as soon as possible.
Being the owner of the club at which she works, I have access to all of Kennedy’s records—her mandatory health exams, including the results of her labs that show she’s clean as a whistle; the brands of products she orders for her shows, from makeup to body glitter (which she never orders); her shoe and clothing sizes; and even the fact that she loves hats. I pass most of that information along to Kimmie, the woman in charge of the entertainment on my cruises. She can order outfits and accoutrements for Kennedy based on what she’s worn in the past.
So, in essence, I have all the information I need to make sure Kennedy’s room is prepared for her when she boards. And she will board. I was even able to get the son of a friend of my father’s to find out if she has a passport that’s up to date, which she does.
The last thing I have to do is let Kennedy know what time the car will be around to pick her up. I punch in the number that I got from her contact information sheet into my phone and listen to it ring.
“Hello?” comes a sleepy, husky voice.
“Mmmm, that sounds like an invitation,” I murmur. And it does. It says to me that she’s lying warm and naked beneath her sheets, her skin supple, her body willing.
After a short pause, during which I can almost hear Kennedy’s eyes opening wider as she comes awake, she speaks. “Then you would be mistaken,” she replies, prim and curt. She doesn’t ask who’s calling or mistake me for another man. She recognizes my voice, which means she’s been thinking about me. Maybe remembering. Maybe wishing.
“Get someone to look after your cat for three months, and be packed and ready by four o’clock. I’ll send someone to escort you to the airport. And bring your passport.”