She weaved in front of him like a damn mirage. Tantalizing and teasing him. Whenever he opened or closed his eyes, she was there. Beautiful and beckoning, she lured him in. He could picture her, he could feel the trace of her, touch the outline of her. She’d left her mark on him and he wanted her day after day, night after night.
He swore loudly and looked up. No one noticed his cursing. No one cared. It was New York and the city spun on its own axis. So he sat and stared at the lunchtime crowds, at a harried doctor rushing by in her scrubs, at a guy in a suit, tugging at his tie while tapping out a message on his phone, at a pair of women in sharp jeans and sweaters, each balancing a cardboard tray of lattes in their hands. A bus trudged by on Fifth Avenue, pulling up to the stop and letting off several passengers, who looked equally hurried as they raced to their destinations. Somehow, the chaos of the city soothed the tangled knots in his chest for the moment, and calmed his mind. He took a deep fueling breath, and returned once more to the contract.
A half-hour later, he’d found the one clause that concerned him most, so when he met Liam for lunch he told him about the points he wanted to iron out.
“That’s why I keep you around, man,” the actor said, flashing his trademark smile that made women swoon and patrons pay top dollar to see his face in lights. “You’re going to come see in The Usual Suspects, right?”
“As if I’d miss it,” Clay said, and mentally marked the date on his calendar to see the stage adaptation of the hit film.
They spent the rest of the meal talking about Liam’s upcoming work, the movies they’d both loved and loathed, and sports, always sports.
When lunch ended, Clay simply hoped he could keep harnessing that focus and use it to stay on track in his business. He didn’t need a repeat of that year with Sabrina. When he returned to his office, refreshed – mostly – from the few hours away from electronic tethers, he clicked on his phone and found another message from the woman who was never far from his mind.
from: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
to: cnichols@gmail.com
date: April 18, 2:23 PM
subject: On that subject…
So unbelievably much…In every single way.
And all his control unraveled in a second, as his skin heated up, and his heart beat faster, pounding against his chest with the aching want to have her in his arms again. Resistance was futile, so he banged out a reply, saved it in his drafts, and told himself he’d see if he still felt the same way that night. When the work day ended he went to the gym to pound the punching bag until his shoulders were as sore as they’d ever been.
On the way home, he pulled out his phone, opened his drafts and made a decision.
Chapter Seventeen
from: cnichols@gmail.com
to: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
date:April 18, 5:23 PM
subject:Which brings us back to…
So why then? Why did you leave?
from: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
to: cnichols@gmail.com
date: April 18, 8:48 PM
subject: Truth
I was afraid.
from: cnichols@gmail.com
to:purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
date: April 18, 11:24 PM
subject: Truth is good
Of what?
from:purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
to: cnichols@gmail.com
date: April 19, 2:03 AM
subject: It can be…
Of getting close.
from: cnichols@gmail.com
to: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
date: April 19, 7:48 AM
subject: Re: It can be…
Don’t be afraid.
from:purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
to: cnichols@gmail.com
date: April 19, 11:19 AM
subject: Re: Re: It can be…
But I am…
from: cnichols@gmail.com
to: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
date: April 19, 5:59 PM
subject: Promise
I won’t hurt you.
from: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
to: cnichols@gmail.com
date: April 19, 10:03 PM
subject: Promises, Promises
That’s easy to promise. Hard to deliver.
from: cnichols@gmail.com
to: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
date: April 19, 11:08 PM
subject: Question
Are you going to let the fear control you?
Good question.
Was she going to let Charlie control every aspect of her life? Right now, from his perch at the back table in Mr. Pong’s, he stared at her like she was a gnat on the bottom of his shoe after she gave him his money. The stack was flimsier than usual, but at least she’d won some.
“Get out of here,” Charlie said to her in a cold, calculating voice. “You tire me because you take too long.”
“I won for you tonight,” she pointed out, but then what was the point? Charlie was in a nasty mood, and maybe it had to do with her, or maybe it had to do with another one of his pawns underperforming.
“Hardly. This is hardly enough,” he said, fanning out the thin stack in her face, smacking her on the nose with the bills. She flinched, surprised that money could wound that much.
As she left the Chinese restaurant, nearly bumping into a man with a well-lined face and sad eyes who stared longingly at the sign for Mr. Pong’s, she pondered all the fear in her life. She was afraid of Charlie, of the veiled threats of hurting her, hurting Kim, and taking more and more of his business until he was satisfied. Though men like him never had their fill, did they? She was scared for her sister and wanted desperately to protect McKenna’s hard-won happiness with Chris. Most of all she was terrified of screwing up. What if she couldn’t win the rest of the money? Would be in Charlie’s clutches forever? Time was running out, and she pictured him snapping chains on her forever somehow, so she’d never ever escape from him.
She didn’t know what would happen.
All she knew for sure was this fear sucked. This emptiness stung. And the only thing that had felt remotely good and real in her life was opening up to Clay. She’d been living in a cocoon of her own necessary lies for so many months, that the sliver of truths she could share with him was freeing.
from: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
to: cnichols@gmail.com
date: April 20, 2:02 AM
subject: Good question
I don’t know…I don’t want it to…but I can’t stop wanting you either.
from: cnichols@gmail.com
to: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
date: April 20, 7:32 AM
subject: New side of you
Don’t stop wanting me. This is the most open I think you’ve been.
from: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com
to: cnichols@gmail.com
date: April 20, 9:52 AM
subject: Blame it on email
Do you like it?
from: cnichols@gmail.com
to: purplesnowglobe@gmail.com