Bring It On. Kira Sinclair
was right. A hard glint entered Colt’s eyes. Slapping his hand down onto the table, his open palm waited expectantly as he said, “Give me your hand.”
Reluctantly, Lena placed her hand in his. His fingers brushed against the pulse at her wrist, sending it skittering. A warm heat that had nothing to do with the alcohol she’d drunk suffused her skin.
Colt’s eyes changed, going from hard to soft. He pulled their joined hands closer, forcing her to either let go or press her body against the biting edge of the table.
She’d left her hair down and it fell around her face, somehow closing the rest of the restaurant out and training her focus solely on him. Colt leaned forward, meeting her halfway across the table. His tongue licked across his lips, drawing her attention to his mouth. She’d never bothered to study it before. Or maybe it had been intentional avoidance. But since he’d used his mouth against her …
It was sensual, wide. The dip in the center of his top lip flared out in a way that made her want to close the gap between them and suck it into her own mouth.
Something flared in the back of his eyes. An awareness and intensity she’d only ever seen him focus on someone else.
She leaned closer. The candle burning between them flickered with the breeze from their joined breaths.
What was she doing?
Her teeth clinked together and she pulled back. He reluctantly let her hand go. His palm scraped slowly against hers. Her nerve endings pulsed and flared, sending unwanted signals all through her body.
Lena put her hands in her lap and rubbed her palm, trying to stop the ripple effect. It didn’t work. The damage was already done. She blinked, feeling sluggish, disoriented and sorely out of her element.
“Better?” he asked in a low rumbling voice that sent shivers down her spine.
Without thought, Lena nodded, and then realized Colt was no longer looking at her but up at Marcy.
“Uh-huh,” Marcy uttered before clearing her throat and jerking her gaze away. “Mikhail, we’ll try the candid shots tonight.”
Marcy flicked them one more calculating glance before melting away from their table. Lena thought she heard the other woman whisper, “Wine. Lots of wine,” to their sommelier as she passed, but she couldn’t be certain.
Lena looked across at Colt and for the first time in their friendship had no idea what to say. Luckily, the salad course arrived and saved her from having to come up with something.
Her mouth watered at the crisp greens, strawberries, candied nuts and light citrus dressing their waiter placed before her. She was grateful for something to occupy her hands … and her mouth.
But apparently Colt wasn’t as desperate for the distraction. He took a few bites and then set his fork down. Instead of eating, he watched her. Several times she picked up her napkin and blotted her lips for fear that the dressing was dribbling down her chin. She was already on edge and he wasn’t helping any. She was about to tell him to knock it off, but he spoke before her.
“Why did you want to marry Wyn?”
Surprised by his question, she sputtered for a few seconds, unsure what to say. They’d never really talked about her relationship with Wyn before. She didn’t know why, but there was some tacit agreement between them. He didn’t tell her about the women who flitted through his life and she rarely mentioned Wyn when they spoke.
It felt weird to be talking with Colt about him now, but he’d asked. She tried to remember exactly what it was about Wyn that had mattered. Her brain felt fuzzy and the only thing she could come up with was, “Because … he was good to me.”
“Not because you loved him.”
“Of course I loved him,” Lena protested.
Colt shook his head. “I don’t think there’s any ‘of course’ about it. You haven’t even cried.”
“I hate crying in front of people. You know that,” she scoffed, dismissing his statement without really even thinking about it.
“Maybe. But I watched you up on that altar. You were so pale I was worried you might faint. Right up until the minute your cousin objected and then color flooded your cheeks. You were shocked, possibly angry, but that was relief I saw all over your face.”
Lena looked at him, the pleasant buzz that had entered her blood lessening just a little. Was he right?
“You’re upset because things didn’t work out the way you wanted them to. Maybe you’re even embarrassed that it fell apart in front of so many people.” Colt paused. “But you aren’t heartbroken.”
He was wrong. Wasn’t he? “How is heartbroken supposed to look, Colt? Am I supposed to be inconsolable? Sobbing in my bed surrounded by spent tissues? Please. I’ve seen that scene before, more times than I care to count.”
Her tongue felt loose, unhinged. Even as she said the words, she realized she was sharing more with him than she meant to. More than she’d ever said before. To anyone. “Do you know how often I scraped together the pieces of my mother and tried to put them back together? How many times I had to beg and plead with her just to get out of bed? After every man—there were plenty and they all left—she’d spend days, weeks, sometimes months inconsolable and incapable of doing anything. Especially taking care of a child.”
She glared across at him, years of conviction radiating from her eyes. “I refuse to be like her. I will not let a relationship devastate or control me like that. So, yes, I’m upset. Wyn and I were supposed to have a life together. He betrayed me in the worst possible way. With my cousin. Excuse me if I’m not handling the situation the way you expected me to.”
Colt’s eyes were round with shock. His silence slammed down between them and the minute it did Lena regretted her words. It was obvious that he’d gotten way more than he’d bargained for.
Their food hadn’t even arrived, but that didn’t matter. Lena wasn’t hungry anymore. In fact, she needed to get out of there before she said even more. Lena scraped her chair against the stone floor and walked toward the exit.
Colt called her name. The photographer cursed.
She ignored them both.
4
COLT HEARD THE MAN CURSE, too, and couldn’t have agreed more. How was he to know his question would hit a sore spot? They were supposed to be friends, right?
Lena had seen him at his absolute worst. When he’d crashed his car, she’d been the one to sit by him in the hospital. He’d told her things about his life that he’d never shared with anyone else. She’d seen him cry, moan with pain and had supported him even when she thought he was making unwise decisions.
How could there be part of her life he knew nothing about? Why had she never told him how bad her mother had been?
Thinking back on those months she’d lived next door, he realized they’d rarely gone to her house. When he’d asked, she’d almost always had an excuse. Sure, he’d only been ten, but why hadn’t he picked up on that? And why, in all the times that they’d talked since then, had she not shared her pain? Heaven knew he’d dumped plenty of his own worries on her small, capable shoulders.
The table teetered, silverware, china and glass clinking ominously, as he bolted after her.
Tropical heat and guilt slapped him in the face as he pushed outside. Colt ripped at the buttons on his shirt, trying to release the noose that had apparently slipped around his throat.
He found her halfway across the resort, standing alone on the deserted beach. Moonlight streamed over her, making her look fragile. Her body curved in on itself, her arms hugging her waist. She shouldn’t be sad. Not here. Not because of him. This was a place for fun and adventure. For laughter and the excitement of discovering something new.
He