thoughts reeling. What was Sugar up to? Who was that guy? How long before she’d be here for dinner? He looked at his watch. Too long.
He tried to calm down. Everything was ready. He’d worked his plan like the sensible guy he was. He’d bought the leather suit for her and roses in a vase curved like Sugar’s figure. Dinner would arrive in an hour, along with Sugar.
But what if she’d made a date with Mr. Armani? What if he was heading to her room this very minute for a quickie?
She hadn’t been seeing anyone for a few months, Gage knew, but that wasn’t typical. Sugar kept busy to avoid the quiet. Unlike himself, who always took his time. He was too careful, dammit, too slow to act. Look at all the time he’d wasted, without even knowing what he wanted. He’d been doing the breaststroke down the biggest river in Egypt for years and, man, were his arms tired.
It hurt to laugh at himself.
He was done with denial and done with waiting. And at the moment, he had no intention of letting some ass-passing-in-the-night get between him and the woman he…loved. Yeah, that’s right. He loved Sugar.
The idea made his head spin. This wasn’t how falling in love was supposed to work. You were supposed to gradually realize the depth of your feelings, not get clubbed over the head and dragged down the hall.
But that was what had happened. And he was too much of a pragmatist to deny it. No, the practical thing was to go for it.
Flooded with adrenaline and determined as hell, he barreled down the hall to Sugar’s room. He had the fleeting thought that he’d completely lost his mind, but he pounded on her door anyway. He wasn’t himself and whoever he’d turned into wasn’t backing out now.
In a few seconds, Sugar opened up, her eyes startled. “Gage? What are you doing here?”
“This.” He cupped her face between his palms and kissed her, kicking the door shut behind him with one heel. He threw everything into that kiss—all the heat and need—holding her face the entire time.
She made a little whimper, stilled, then softened against him for a few seconds as she’d done on the water bed.
Then she yanked away. “Hold it…. Stop.” She sagged, bracing her hands on her thighs, struggling for breath. “Wait.”
What about his plan? Be casual and easy and fun? Okay, not too late. Slow down, give her a second, start over calmly. Instead he said the worst possible thing. “Sugar, I’m in love with you.”
“I HAVE TO SIT.” Sugar felt as though she’d been dumped into a washer and tossed around the drum until her brain rattled in her skull. She backed to the closest bed and sank onto the spread, the satin cool against her stocking-covered thighs. She’d only managed to get her jacket and shoes off when Gage began pounding on her door like the hotel was burning down and her room was next.
She couldn’t catch a solid breath and her whole body trembled. Much worse than the Water Bed Moment. She dug her toes into the thick carpet, pressed her soles flat, desperate for solid footing. “What did you say?” She lifted a hand to stop his answer. “Never mind. I heard. Give me a second.”
Her sensible partner had just come at her like an avenging angel or an EMT giving her the breath of life.
And what a breath it had been. That kiss had you’re mine force combined with how do you want it? tenderness. He’d held her face between his palms, adoring her, making her feel every millimeter of his mouth—strong lips, coaxing tongue. Now her sex felt like an overwound rubber band about to snap.
And then he’d gone and said it. The L word.
“You love me?” she asked weakly. He couldn’t, could he? The possibility made her feel two things at once: Oh, hooray and Ah, shit.
Gage dropped onto the bed beside her. Taking her hands in his, he laced their fingers together and rested the clump on his thigh. “That wasn’t how I wanted this to go.”
“It wasn’t?” Maybe they could erase it and start over. Hope rose.
“It’s true, though,” he said. “I do love you.”
Damn.
“I don’t know what to say, Gage.” Her head was still in the washing machine, banging into the sides so that her ears were ringing and her mind was mush.
“You’re saying it.” He managed a wry smile. “You’re freaked. If it makes you feel any better, so am I. I mean, we worked this all out, right? Way back in college.”
“Exactly.” They were still on the same page, at least. She’d almost gone for him back then—his quiet solidity had attracted her—but she’d been with Dylan, who was hot, also Riley for a while, and others. The great thing about college was that no one got serious. Except Gage. And he hadn’t approved of how actively she dated. She’d concluded he was kind of a tight ass, but forgave him because he’d been a dependable friend. “And when we started the resort, we talked it out, right?” she added.
“Right.”
“So this is just chemistry?” she asked weakly. More like the Fourth of July, nuclear fission and an exploding comet all rolled into one.
“Chemistry?” He wasn’t buying that, either.
“The important thing is our partnership. And we’re friends. Don’t forget that.”
“Couldn’t forget that.” He sighed and squeezed their fingers together. “Maybe if we’re good at being partners and friends, we could be good at…more.”
“It was that water bed!” she blurted. “I mean, shaking and bumping and rocking like that.”
He shook his head.
“I guess not.”
“I think it’s always been there. For me.” He leveled his gaze at her. “I just blocked it.”
This isn’t fair, she wanted to whine. They’d figured this all out. They knew what mattered. How could a giant quivering mattress full of water make them forget?
She had to get them back on track. “We’re so different, Gage.” That’s what she told herself whenever she had hot thoughts about him. She liked variety, action, late nights. He was Mr. Same Old, Mr. Rut, Mr. Early To Bed, Early To Rise. Probably predictable in bed, too—all missionary, all the time.
“We can work that out….” The tiny hesitation in his voice told her she’d made some headway, so she kept going.
“I don’t do permanent, remember?” Gage was the kind of guy who got married for good. In fact, she was surprised he wasn’t already ringed up.
His eyes held hers. With me you could.
She knew better. She’d let a couple of guys get serious on her. They’d wanted to spend every minute with her until she felt smothered. The breakups were dreadful. She’d felt as though she’d led them on. She’d been in love with love—the guys, too, no doubt—and she’d vowed to never put anyone through that again. She was just better off sticking with
