Chapter Nine #2
She’d heard the expression—an easy silence—but she didn’t think she’d ever experienced one before. Not in the company of a man, anyway. Yet everything about being with Blane was easy, even if she’d never have guessed it from the look of the man.
He turned in his seat to face her, resting an elbow on the table. “You called me darling.”
She blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me. You called me darling.”
She knew exactly when he meant. “I did, Blane. But then, you married me without my knowledge, in front of two complete strangers, just to get yourself out of a photograph. I think darling was the least of the liberties taken.”
His mouth twitched. “Wasn’t complaining.”
He looked away, his gaze settling somewhere across the room. She was beginning to recognize that too. It was what he did when he had a truth to share and wasn’t sure how she’d receive it.
“Liked the sound of it,” he said. “The way you say it.” He paused. “Darling. Whole word. All the letters.”
“That is how it’s spelled.”
“Not where I’m from.” His mouth seemed to be losing the war with a smile. “Where I’m from, it’s darlin’. We cut loose the G. Can’t afford the whole word, I guess.”
“Say it, then.”
He watched her for a moment, apparently weighing whether he really would. And then, low, unhurried, and without any of the armor he kept on everything else, he said it. “Darlin’.”
Oh.
It went straight down her spine and out through the soles of her feet, and she was fairly certain her face did something about it, because his eyebrows went up half an inch.
“It doesn’t—” She cleared her throat, tried to recover some dignity, and failed. “I … No. That doesn’t sound the same at all.”
“No?”
“No. Not remotely. Mine was a courtesy. Yours is a…” She gestured helplessly at the whole of him. At the gravel in his voice. At whatever the man had just done to her entire nervous system. “It’s not fair, is what it is. You can’t just say it like that with no warning.”
He leaned a fraction closer. “Darlin’,” he said again, because he was, she was discovering, a terrible man.
“Stop it.”
“You started it.” But he was full-on smiling now. “You told me to say it.” He took another sip of whiskey, still watching her. “Tell you what. You use the whole word. I’ll use mine. That seems fair. Two versions of the same thing.”
“Two versions of the same thing,” she agreed and refused to examine how much she liked the sound of that. That she kept darling, and he kept darlin’.
It had started out as part of a lie told to two strangers at a concert, and it would sadly end here tonight, but it had gained a truth somewhere in between—one she’d hold close for a long time.
~ ~ ~
Blane’s smile slowly faded. He had no business liking the sound of two versions of the same thing as much as he did.
The trouble was, there didn’t even get to be one version of it for much longer.
Time was ticking down, and there wasn’t going to be another reprieve.
No discovery that she had one more day. Bea was leaving in the morning. Early.
He sat beside her with his whiskey almost gone and watched the minutes disappear. He didn’t want to move, and he knew damn well that meant he had to. Her car was coming at five-fifteen. She needed sleep, and he wasn’t going to be the reason she didn’t get it.
She shifted beside him and gave him a sad smile.
“We should get you upstairs.”
“I know.” She made no attempt to move.
His hand found hers. Funny how quickly that had started to feel familiar. Her soft fingers curled around his, and somehow that gave him what he needed to get to his feet.
Bea started toward the bar, but he held on to her hand. “Where are you going?”
“I need to pay.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “I’ll call down later. Have them add it to my bill.”
She glanced toward the bartender. Blane caught the man’s eye and gestured to let him know.
“All right.” She squeezed his hand. “Thank you.”
They walked out through the lobby together and stopped at the elevators. Blane jabbed the button, and Bea pointed toward the indicators above the doors. Both elevators were sitting on twelve again.
“Still a conspiracy.”
“Looks that way.” Tonight, he’d have been more than happy if the damn things decided to stay up there. But they didn’t; they both arrived on the ground floor far too soon.
Bea stepped inside ahead of him, and for the few seconds it took to reach twelve, they stood beside each other, hands still joined, exchanging a smile neither of them seemed able to hold for long.
The doors opened, and Blane walked down the hallway beside her. There was no way in hell he was standing by the elevators and watching her walk away from him.
When they reached her door, she turned to face him. “Well.”
He nodded. “Yeah. Well.”
“I guess this is it.”
“Yeah.” The word came out rougher than he intended. “Guess it is.”
She rested her hand in the center of his chest, right over the part that had started aching before either of them had even said goodbye.
“Thank you, Blane.”
His hand came up and cupped her cheek. “Thank you, Bea.”
Her eyes were green again. He still didn’t know what that meant. “You be careful in Crete, you hear me?”
She laughed softly. “I will. I know I must seem rather hopeless to you, but I’ve made it through fifty-eight years without getting into too much trouble.”
“You don’t seem hopeless.”
Her smile flickered. “And you be careful too. I know you’re the one who knows how to take care of himself, but that’s because you put yourself in dangerous situations, isn’t it?”
“Not much anymore. I train the guys.”
“Still. Promise me you’ll be careful. I’ll think about you, and I’ll worry.”
He closed his eyes for a moment. “Don’t worry about me, Bea.”
“You can’t tell me what to do.”
His mouth twitched despite everything. “Yeah. Starting to figure that out.”
For a moment, neither of them said anything. Then he made himself say it. “You’d better go in. Get some sleep. That flight’s early.”
“I know.”
He said the words, but he didn’t step away or take his hand from her cheek. Instead, his other hand settled at her waist, and Bea drew in a breath.
He was close enough now that leaning down felt like the most natural thing in the world. Her fingers curled slightly against his chest, and when his gaze dropped to her mouth, she rose onto her toes.
Jesus.
He could kiss her. He wanted to. And there was no doubt in his mind that she wanted him to. That was what made it so damned hard.
He’d done the math over and over while they sat in the bar.
Bea wasn’t leaving tomorrow for a trip. She was stepping into a whole new life; one she’d chosen for herself after spending most of her adult life fitting herself around somebody else’s choices.
He knew what would happen if he kissed her.
He’d want more than the kiss, then more than tonight, and as far as he knew, he had nothing to offer her beyond that.
No plan, no promise, no idea what came next.
He refused to be the next man who asked Bea to make room in her life for what he wanted when he had nothing to put beside it. Not now, not when she was finally walking into a life that belonged entirely to her.
Her face tipped toward his, and Blane leaned down. Nothing on earth could have stopped him except himself. At the last second, he turned his head and pressed his lips to her cheek.
It might have been the hardest thing he’d ever done.
For one suspended moment, neither of them moved. Then Bea turned her face and kissed his cheek in return. When he straightened, he saw her swallow.
His hand slid once over her hair before he finally made himself step back. “Good night, darlin’.”
Her hand lifted toward his chest again, stopped halfway, then fell back to her side. “Good night, darling.” Her eyes held his for a long moment.
“You take good care.”
“You too, Blane.”
She turned, unlocked her door, and stepped inside. Blane stayed where he was while she looked back at him once before closing it.
Then he heard the solid click of the lock sliding into place.
And that was that.
He stood staring at Bea’s closed door. The elevator dinged behind him, and he heard people get off, talking as they walked down the hallway.
Still, he didn’t move. He should turn around and go.
This was over. But his feet refused to move.
Somehow, taking that first step away from her door felt like it would make the whole thing real.
He didn’t want it to be real. That was what finally got him moving. He took one last look at the door, at the place where she’d been standing a few minutes ago, then turned and marched back down the hallway to his room.
He shut the door behind him harder than he needed to and dug his phone out of his pocket. He called Cash, put him on speaker, and dropped the phone on the desk.
“What’s up, Blane?”
“How soon can you get me out of here?” He stared at the phone when Cash didn’t answer. “You still there?”
“Yeah, bud. I’m here. But getting you out of there might be a problem.”
“The fuck does that mean, Cash?”
“Whoa. Slow down. What’s going on?”
“Nothing. I’m ready to come home.”
“You are?”
Blane folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against the wall. “Why the fuck does that surprise you? The job’s over.”
“It was never a job, Blane. I told you to take a vacation.”
“Whatever. It’s done.”
“Yeah, I get that. But the jet can’t come back stateside yet.”
“Damn it, Cash. You know I don’t fly commercial. Find me another one.”
“Hold up. I said the jet can’t come back stateside. Didn’t say you couldn’t use it.”
His brows drew together. “Use it where?”
Cash went quiet again, but this time Blane knew damn well he was still there.
“Wherever you need to go,” he said finally. “Europe’s a big place.”
Blane went completely still.
“If you think about it, you’re not needed for anything back here for a few weeks,” Cash added.
Blane looked at his duffel.
Cash didn’t say anything else, and neither did he.
He stared at the bag he’d expected to pack for home, then pushed away from the wall.
“How soon can it be ready?”