He could easily picture himself and Missy ten years from now. Hell, twenty years from now. She’d still be hot and he’d still want her. He swallowed hard. He could reach for what he wanted or he could retreat behind his protective shell and stay safe. It was up to him.
But whatever he was going to do it had to be now. Tonight. He couldn’t let Missy think this afternoon hadn’t meant anything more to him then a quick score.
He turned the key and the engine roared to life. Checking traffic, he pulled out and started for home. He had work to do.
Missy closed her eyes and listened to the music softly seeping from her stereo. She’d tried classical, New Age and folk music. None of it calmed her. Finally she turned on a soft rock station. The music reminded her of T.S. He was rough around the edges but his appeal would always endure.
She couldn’t believe she’d reacted so swiftly, running like a coward from him. That comment about her being called “icy” by other guys had thrown her for a loop and she’d simply reacted. That was her only excuse.
It was one of her hot buttons. Her entire life, guys had accused her of that, going back to high school when she wouldn’t put out like other girls. They accused her of thinking she was better than them. They didn’t understand it was more a matter of her treating herself with self-respect.
Now she’d have to call T.S. and see if he still wanted to talk. “Better sooner than later,” she muttered.
She opened her eyes and grabbed her cell phone, plugging in his number. It rang twice before he answered. “Missy?”
“Yeah, it’s me.” She cleared her throat, which was suddenly tight. “Sorry about running out on you this afternoon.”
“Did I do something to hurt you?” She could hear the concern in his voice. Missy sat up on the sofa and curled her legs beneath her, thankful she’d changed into her comfortable sweats. “I never meant to hurt you, babe.”
“I know. It wasn’t you as much as it was a reaction to a word, to the past.” She ran her hand over the soft fabric covering her legs, wondering if she should turn up the heat.
“Icy?”
“Yeah. It’s stupid, I know. I came to talk to you and then I practically ran away.”
“I think we’ve both done our fair share of running.” His deep voice raised goose bumps on her arms. His words help alleviate some of the guilt she was feeling.
“Listen. How would you like to come over to talk?” If they hoped to have a chance at making their relationship work, they had to lay their pasts out in the open. Otherwise it was like tiptoeing through a minefield. You never knew what was going to cause an explosion.
A knock came on her front door. She thought about ignoring it, but it came again. “Listen, can you hold on for a second. There’s someone at the door.”
Missy pushed off the sofa and padded to the door in stocking feet, keeping the phone in her hand. She wasn’t willing to relinquish the tenuous link between them. She looked through the peephole. All she could see was a bouquet of flowers. She opened the door, but kept the safety chain on.
T.S. stood in her hallway. But it was a T.S. she hadn’t seen since the night of the wedding. He was wearing a suit and tie and carrying a dozen red roses in one hand, his phone in the other. “Hey.”
She blinked and blinked again.
“You gonna let me in?” She clicked off her phone and dumped it on the entryway table. It only took her a few seconds and a fumble or two to undo the chain and open the door.
T.S. stepped inside and kicked the door shut behind him. “For you.” He thrust the roses toward her.
“They’re beautiful.” She buried her face in them and inhaled their rich, seductive scent.
“They reminded me of you—dark, beautiful and classy.”
This T.S. was much different from the man she’d dealt with earlier today. That man had been earthy and raw. This man was sleeker, more of the man she’d always imagined herself with.
While he was still sexy as sin, she wasn’t sure she liked the change.
“Thank you. I’ll put them in water.” She hurried to the kitchen and got a crystal vase out of the cupboard. T.S. followed her, watching as she filled the vase and arranged the roses.
“Let’s go sit down.” It was her home but it was T.S. who guided her back into the other room. She felt very underdressed in her lounging sweats. He looked handsome as sin and good enough to eat. The shoulder seams of the suit were straining to keep him contained. He was so muscular, so strong.
She settled on the sofa, turning sideways so she could face him as he took the other end. He motioned to the stereo. “Classic rock. I figured it would be classical.”
She shrugged. “I wasn’t in the mood for classical.”
His black hair was brushed away from his face, giving her a perfect view of his face. Those golden-brown eyes, strong nose, firm lips and olive complexion. Her body started humming. She ignored it. They had to talk.
“My mother did her best for us when we were kids. Me and my older brother, Cameron.” Missy stilled as she realized T.S. was telling her about his past. Her heart rate quickened.
“You don’t have to do this.” She reached out, capturing his hand in hers. Her skin was much darker than his, soft where his was hard. “You don’t have to spill your past to me. I want you, Theo. The man you’ve become. The man you are—honest, loyal, hardworking and handsome. Whatever reason you were in prison doesn’t matter. I know you, here.” She lifted his hand, placing it over her heart before moving her hand to cover his. The heavy, steady pounding filled her palm.
She loved him. She had to trust him if their relationship was going to have a chance to work. She did trust him. She knew the man he was today. That was all that mattered.
T.S. swallowed the lump in his throat. Here was what he’d always wanted. Acceptance. Unconditional and unreserved. He could tell from the look in Missy’s eyes that she meant what she said. She was willing to put this aside and take him as he was.
Strangely enough, that made it easier to tell her. Made him want to tell her. He wanted a clean slate between them. No more secrets. He was no longer a frightened, insecure teenage boy. He was a man who loved a woman. That meant being courageous enough to open up all the wounds from his past.
“My father left when we were kids. I don’t remember him much. He was a big, brawny Scot who’d come over to America to work and hooked up with my mom, a third generation Greek. Cam took after him and I favored Mama’s side of the family. Anyway, when she got pregnant, they got married. Tried to make it work. Her family didn’t like him and it drove a wedge between them. He left just after my fourth birthday. Cam was eight.”
“Your poor mother.” She lifted his hand from her heart and kissed the center of his palm. He closed his hand around hers.
“Yeah. She did her best, but she worked two jobs, sometimes three.” He raked his fingers through his hair, realized what he was doing and made himself stop. He didn’t like thinking about the past, about the poverty and hardships. But they’d shaped his childhood and made him into the man he was today.
“We lived in the projects and grew up fast and hard. I did my best to stay out of trouble, but Cam…” He shook his head. “Cam drew trouble like a magnet.”
“What happened?”
“There was a girl I liked. I’d been trying to get up the nerve to ask her out on a date for months.”
“You?” Missy’s shock warmed his heart and made him grin.
“Yeah, I was a late bloomer. Even at eighteen I was scrawny and a few inches shorter than I am now.”