When It Hooks You (It #1) Page 21

  Lyssa nodded. “And maybe this time it’ll shut with both of them on the same side.”

  “Lovely analogy,” Trish said. “But you’re both ignoring one very important fact. He hasn’t come knockin’ on my door to ask for another chance.” She lifted her iced green tea and took a long swig. The icy streams slid down her throat, soothing the sting of what she’d said. Not until that moment did she fully acknowledge that his radio silence was what hurt the most.

  “What would you say if he did?” Cliff asked.

  Trish paused, considering the question. In the days after receiving the letter, she’d fought the urge to contact Adam, thinking it would be best to let him come to her when he was ready. As more time passed, her restlessness had taken her to the Internet where she’d searched for assurance he hadn’t been lying about his wife. The scant information she’d found backed up his sad story. After a month of not hearing from him, she’d realized he wasn’t going to call, text, or even send another letter.

  She believed he’d cared for her during their time together, but obviously not enough to see if they still had anything worth resurrecting. In answer to Cliff’s question, she said, “There’s no point in speculating about something that isn’t going to happen.”

  Chapter 23

  Don’t hate me.

  Why would I hate you?

  You wouldn’t. Because I told you not to.

  What if you hadn’t told me not to?

  But I did.

  I’m giving you a virtual death stare right now. Spill it.

  Sorry. I’m sworn to secrecy.

  I hate you.

  CLIFFY COULD BE STUBBORN, and Trish had work to do, so she growled at the phone and set it aside to focus on the forms in front of her. He’d probably call after work to taunt her some more. She’d get it out of him then.

  Playful moments like this made her miss seeing Cliff nearly every day at work. She’d gotten the job with Mji and had left River South Partners several weeks earlier. Her first assignment was as assistant manager at a Michigan Avenue coffee and teahouse near Chicago’s historic water tower.

  She finished with the supply orders and leaned back in her chair, fingering the Swahili phrasebook on her desk in the back office. Her training involved learning about various African cultures and languages. Before she fully committed to cracking open the text, Mark, one of the baristas, poked his head through the doorway. “There’s a guy up front who asked to talk to you. He looks important. Way awesome threads.”

  She followed Mark to the main counter. The lunchtime rush was well over, so it wasn’t difficult to spot her visitor—though she was certain he’d have stood out to her even in the midst of a dense throng at Lollapalooza. He stood off to one side of the large, richly textured dining room, his hand fidgeting at a pocket of his tailored suit pants. Afropop music played in the background.

  “Adam,” she said, pushing through the shock that threatened to close her throat. The instant his hazel eyes landed on hers, all the emotions she’d combed through during the past months knotted into a tangled mess. She balled her fists, digging her fingernails into her palms. The rational parts of her brain worked double-time to keep her from leaping over the counter straight into his arms.

  For a long moment, they stared at each other. Finally, Adam cleared his throat. “I come bearing a message.” He dipped his restless hand into his pocket and pulled out a folded Post-it square. He read from it: “Please don’t hate Cliff.”

  Trish let out a quick, nervous laugh. “At least tell me you had to exert a tremendous amount of torture before he gave up my location.”

  Adam tilted his head and peered at her, allowing himself a small smile. “Hardly any at all, I’m afraid.”

  Trish nodded. If Cliff didn’t think it was a good idea for her to see Adam, he never would’ve told him where she was. She tried not to be so shallow as to worry that her uniform khakis and pale green polo-style shirt was hardly the ideal ensemble for an encounter with an ex—especially when that ex looked so debonair and achingly familiar in his steel gray suit.

  “I also have this.” Adam reached into his breast pocket and produced a flat bar wrapped in colorful paper. He held it out to Trish, and she noticed the tiny, blond worry doll tied around it. “Our first batch of market-ready chocolate bars. I thought it was only right that you should get one.”

  “Thank you,” she said, stepping past the end of the counter but leaving the thin, swinging door between them. He moved in tandem with her and stepped closer. Taking the candy in both hands, she admired the doll as she pushed at it with her thumb. “Was hand delivery also necessary?”

  “More than you know.” She glanced up in time to see a wistful glint pass through his beautiful eyes while he stared at her.

  She swallowed what little moisture was left in her mouth. “I’m sorry for everything you’ve been through.”

  He nodded, his gaze falling to his fingertips as they lightly tapped on the top edge of the swinging door. “There’s no reason for you to be sorry. It’s all so…I’d hoped…” The force of his sigh seemed to cause his head to jerk up, but instead of looking at her, he turned his attention toward the tables in the open room. “It doesn’t matter what I’d hoped.” After a brief pause, he swiveled his face toward her, wearing a melancholy but genuine smile. “Congratulations on your acceptance into the management program. Cliff told me how selective the process was. This is quite an accomplishment.”

  “It will be if I make it through the full three years.”

  “You will.”

  She warmed at the confidence in his tone. “Thanks. And thanks for this.” She gave the chocolate a small shake. “I’m glad the business is progressing. Maybe you should talk to Mji about getting into our shops.” She nodded toward the small collection of fair trade mints and candies near the cash register.

  His gaze wandered in that direction. “Maybe I will.”

  The gentle drumbeat of a tribal-influenced rhythm filled the silence that lingered between them. Without realizing how or when exactly it had happened, Trish was again drawn straight into the gentle intensity of Adam’s brilliant eyes. Her mind flashed to their early meetings at the River South offices. His heated glances had caught her attention from the very beginning. Now here he was, stealing back her affection with a simple look.

  “Trish.” His deep voice dropped to a murmur. “Is there any way—”

  “I can’t,” she interrupted, her tone quiet but firm as she found her answer to the question Cliff had posed at lunch so many weeks ago. Getting over Adam had been too prolonged, too difficult. She’d finally begun feeling truly happy again and wouldn’t derail that. “Sincerely, thank you for stopping by with this. But I’ve got a lot of work to do and should get back to it. Good luck with…everything.”

  For one brief second his fervent expression pleaded with her to reconsider. But that spark of passion was quickly replaced by sad acceptance. “Of course. Thank you. I wish you the best of everything, too.”

  “Thanks.” She heard the wobble in her voice and took a step backward. He gave a curt nod and turned toward the door. Just shy of running, she made it into her office and plopped into her chair, out of sight from anyone else. With her elbows on her desk, she dropped the candy bar and pressed her palms flat against her face, fighting to keep her slow exhale from turning into a sob.

  The muffled ding of the front door opening jarred her raging emotions. “Oh, hell no,” she growled, pushing up from the desk and taking long strides to the counter and past the swinging door. She watched Adam disappear beyond the coffeehouse window. Glancing at Mark, she asked, “You got this if I step out for a bit?”

  “No prob,” Mark said.

  “I have my cell, so call if anything comes up.” Exiting the shop, she jogged a few yards along the sunny sidewalk to catch up to Adam. Clamping her hand around the firm muscles at the back of his arm, she said, “We need to talk.” More accurately, she thought to herself, I need to scream a few th
ings at you. Ignoring his surprised expression and without waiting for an answer, she pulled him along the sidewalk, weaving around slower pedestrians.

  He stayed silent, not even asking where they were going, and quickened his pace to match hers. They arrived at an archway opening to a small courtyard. Though Trish had passed by often, she hadn’t stepped under that particular stone curve since she’d stormed away from Kurt a year and a half earlier. She pulled Adam into the lush church garden. In the bright light of early summer, it wasn’t nearly as desolate as it had been that cold winter night.

  Trish stopped a few feet away from the lively fountain at the center of the yard and turned to face Adam. Easing her grip on his arm, she lifted that hand to shield her unprotected eyes from the glare of the sun. “One text, a letter, and a candy bar—that’s all I get after you dropped that huge bomb on me? How would you have even known I got the letter? It’s been months and months of nothing from you! You didn’t even give me a chance to tell you to stay the hell away from me.”

  “Isn’t that exactly what you told me just now back at your shop?” His tone was calm and even, not challenging in any way.

  “That doesn’t answer my question. How could you abandon me in the rubble for so long?”

  His eyes swished toward the fountain, then snapped back onto her. An ember ignited deep in his flashing irises and the muscles at the back of his jaw flexed. “Every second of every day I’ve hoped you’d call. I took your silence as a cue that a break in contact was what you wanted.”

  She chuffed. “Then why are you here now?”

  “I wasn’t willing to trust my own intuition, anymore. I came by today to hear it directly from you.”

  “Why did you wait so long?” She crossed her arms over her chest like armor.

  “Because I needed to get my proverbial shit together before I saw you again. I’ve been wrecked, and you were both the balm I desperately needed and yet the last person I had a right to impose myself on.”

  Her heart thudded against her rib cage. Perhaps it would’ve been wiser to stay hidden in her office. Her gaze flickered back and forth over his graceful features. His expression was pained and rigid, but after a moment under her examination, something playful tugged at the corners of his mouth.

  “How can you possibly be about to smile right now?” she demanded.

  The tugging flickered into a cautious grin. “Because you’re here.”

  Her eyebrows pinched together, but she didn’t speak. She was too confused to know what to say.

  “You’re not trapped into talking to me at your place of business, like you were a few minutes ago,” he explained. “You’re here because you want to be.”

  “I’m here to yell at you,” she clarified.

  “Even your anger is welcome. It tells me your feelings for me haven’t been completely extinguished.”

  She locked her jaw in place, at once provoked by his nerve and stunned by his insight. Up until that second, she’d told herself her reason for going after him was to unload her backlog of grievances. Now she recognized the larger reason, the real reason: she couldn’t stand the thought of letting him walk away.

  Tightening her crossed arms against her rapidly pounding chest, she said, “We could’ve been friends.”

  “I told myself that’s all we would be.” His voice was low and his smile faltered.

  “I wish you would’ve told me that.” Their eyes blazed on each other for a long, silent moment. They were locked in a stalemate. Trish couldn’t let him go, but she didn’t see how she could keep him, either. Her trust in him had been broken.

  She glanced toward the water splashing into the fountain base. A year and a half earlier Kurt had worked her into such frenzy, she’d senselessly smashed dried leaves into his jacket. She briefly wondered if shoving Adam’s head into the shallow pool would provide her with the same kind of satisfaction.

  “Salted caramel,” Adam said.

  She shifted narrowed eyes back onto him. “What?”

  “My favorite flavor of ice cream. It used to be mint chocolate chip, but I overindulged one New Year’s Eve when my parents were too busy with guests to pay attention. I haven’t touched the stuff since.”

  Her forehead crumpled with her concern that he might be having some sort of mental episode.

  “My first crush was on a girl named Kelsey,” he continued. “I was in the fourth grade; she was in the sixth. Kelsey preferred my older brother. I walked past the park one day and saw the two of them kissing under the rope bridge. I was devastated.”

  Trish felt the creases in her brow smooth as she began to understand what he was doing.

  “I have trouble opening up to others and letting them truly see what’s inside me,” he said. “I’ve led a selfish, solitary existence. I thought it suited me. Then I met a woman who deserves so much more than what I am. I want to regain your trust, Trish. I want to be what you deserve. If the only way I can do that is by making myself vulnerable to you, then I will. No more secrets. No topics off limits.”

  Her hands fisted against her folded arms as she tried to hold onto her reasons to resist him. “It could never work. I’d always worry you’d disappear on me again.”

  “I won’t.” He took a step closer, his intense gaze on her. “That’s not a mistake I’ll make twice.”

  “My new job is a top priority for me. I can’t run off with you on a whim.”

  “I’m not asking you to. I’ll gladly work around anything and everything in your life if it means I can keep you in mine.” His pale eyes glittered in the sunlight as he watched her. He was intent and serious as ever, but Trish now realized something had been different about him since he’d shown up at the coffeehouse. He held his shoulders more squared, and there was a subtle lightness about him, giving the impression of a heavy weight having been lifted. He no longer seemed to be drowning. “May I ask you a question?”

  “Triple chocolate fudge,” she blurted.

  He let out a small laugh. “Good to know, but not what I was going to ask. The only thing I need to know right now is—will you have dinner with me tonight?”

  “Dinner?” She said it like she’d never heard the word before.

  “Yes, dinner. That’s all. Let’s rewind and take this back to a first date—one where I’m open and honest. There’s no pressure to take things any further. One date. That’s all I’m asking for. Where we go from there will be entirely up to you.”

  Trish’s heart pounded so forcefully, she felt it in her throat, as if it was creeping upward, trying to leap out her. If she was going to lose her heart, there was only one place she wanted it to land. Taking a determined step forward, she uncrossed her arms and reached with both hands to comb her fingers through the hair at the back of Adam’s head. He didn’t move a centimeter as she lifted on tiptoes and brought her face closer to his.

  Lip contact was soft and slow—and mostly by her effort. On her third touchdown, he joined in, pressing into her and tilting his head to reposition his mouth more fully against hers. He tasted exactly the same as she remembered. But she felt none of the desperation and conflict that used to accompany his kisses. His barriers were gone. She couldn’t jump right back to where they’d been—and yet she knew it was foolish to think they could refresh all the way back to point zero.

  Pulling her mouth from his, she smiled at his dreamy expression. She curled into him, wrapping her arms around his lean waist and resting the side of her face against his chest. His hands moved to the center of her back, holding her close.

  “Can I take that as a yes?” The rumble of his deep voice vibrated against her cheek.

  Keeping her face pressed to him, she nodded, inhaling his soothing, mellow scent. He was here right now. That was all that mattered. She wouldn’t set any rules or try to regulate the relationship this time. She’d simply get to know every little thing about him and see what happened next.

  THE END

  Sneak Preview from When It Holds You


  coming October 2016

  Add it to your to-read list at Goodreads

  Chapter 1

  “THAT SEXY-TALKING, DESIGNER-SUIT-WEARING MOTHERFUCKER,” Cliff muttered. The moment he’d heard the smooth rumble of Adam Helms’ voice, he’d known who it was.

  Why had Cliff chosen that precise moment to cross the reception area? If he’d waited just a few minutes longer, he wouldn’t have heard Helms asking the new receptionist about Trish. Then he’d never had stepped over and been persuaded to give him her new work address. Charlie would’ve quite honestly claimed no knowledge of Trish’s whereabouts, and that would’ve been that. Except Helms already had Trish’s phone number and home address.

  Okay, so maybe it didn’t matter how Helms got in touch with her, but Cliff wished it hadn’t been him who’d pointed the jerk in her direction. The guy had deceived her. Sure, extenuating circumstances had been involved and Helms had been truly remorseful, but still. Cliff didn’t want to be even tangentially responsible for causing Trish more pain by making her face the lying bastard.

  If he was honest with himself, he was also flustered by the mere idea of Adam being in the same room with her again, which was likely happening at that very second. Helms had some kind of strange power over her. The power to command all her waking thoughts. The power to make her glow.

  “Fuck me,” Cliff groaned, slamming the folder he held onto his desk and slumping in his chair.

  “Hey now,” said Karen Keefer, poking her head through the open doorway to his office. Karen was on the verge of being named partner at River South, where Cliff had come to work fresh out of law school. He’d been there for just over a year. Karen had been there for almost a decade. “You might want to spend some time refining your seduction technique. I’m not saying a blunt line like that never worked on me, but…”

  “Sorry.” One side of Cliff’s mouth went up in a sheepish grin.

  “Account giving you trouble? Anything I can help with?” Karen strolled into his office and leaned her rump against the edge of his desk. She’d become his unofficial mentor at the firm.