scrubbed his body, wishing he could wash away the memories of their time together. But they were embedded as firmly in his head as her touch was imprinted on his body. He pictured Rebecca smiling and laughing when they’d gone sailing in the harbor. Her golden skin glowing with water droplets when they’d skinny-dipped in the bay. The graceful way she’d moved like a ballerina when they had danced in the moonlight. The smile lighting her eyes the night he’d proposed. The romantic honeymoon in Nepal.
Rebecca’s silky honey-blond hair spread across his chest. Her sultry hazel eyes, eyes that turned smoky when they made love. And those mile-long legs wrapped around his waist.
His body hardened with desire at the mere thought, and he cursed again. How the hell was he supposed to get through this meeting today? How was he supposed to get over her?
And why now, after two years of separation, was she insisting on this meeting? Determined to finally sever their marriage?
Suddenly, the grim possibility that she’d met someone else, that she was ready to move on, that another man had ensconced himself in her life, and maybe in her bed, hit him like a fist to his gut.
He leaned against the counter and stared into the mirror at his bloodshot eyes. He’d always known the possibility existed that she’d find someone else, but he’d shoved the thought into the back of his mind, choosing to live in denial.
Today he had to drag his head out of the sand and face reality. Rebecca was not only devastatingly beautiful and sexy, but interesting and damn smart. And her job as a TV journalist certainly had given her exposure across the U.S. Half the men in the world probably ogled her from their living room while she reported the news.
So whom had she met? Who had interested her enough to make her insist on finalizing the divorce?
Someone from TV? Another journalist? Some L.A. producer who’d swept her off her feet? Or maybe a Hollywood star?
He groaned and forced himself to dress. She would probably be waiting when he arrived at the Ritz-Carlton for their meeting. Would she be alone? Or would her lover accompany her? Would they sip champagne afterward and celebrate the end of him, and the beginning of them?
He balled his hands into fists and had to bite down on one to keep from slamming it into the mirror and breaking the glass.
If she had found someone else, what did his son think?
A choking sound erupted from deep inside him. The thought of losing Rebecca hurt. But he would handle it. After all, he’d grown accustomed to being alone the past two years. His business and the missions he did for Eclipse kept him occupied. He had a full life.
Dammit. He did.
But the thought of another man playing father to Jesse nearly drove him to his knees.
REBECCA WAVED TO JESSE AS HE slipped his hand into DeeDee’s. The young nanny had worked for her for six months now, and seemed responsible and appeared to genuinely care for Jesse.
Sometimes she felt bad for the time she spent away from her son and for leaving him with a nanny, but a single mother had to have help.
A single mother. Ethan would say that she’d chosen the role.
But that wasn’t entirely true. Hadn’t she been alone before she and Ethan had actually parted?
It wasn’t as if she’d gotten involved with another man right away, either. She’d only wanted to pursue her career, and take advantage of the opportunity she’d been given in L.A.
Jesse waved the small wand in the air as if it were magic. “Bye, Mommy.”
She gave him a peck on the cheek. “Have fun at the pond, Jesse. Later, um…your dad may come over.” Now, why had she said that? This trip was supposed to be quick. Sign the papers. Accept that their relationship was over.
Move on.
But Ethan had a right to see Jesse. And she would never deny him that right. Or deny Jesse time with his father.
Jesse’s big brown eyes lit up with hope. “Really?”
“Sure, honey.”
He perked up and skipped toward the door with a grin. DeeDee waved as the two of them bustled out the hotel door. Rebecca waited until they’d left, then applied lipstick, grabbed the divorce papers and her purse and headed to the elevator. A couple stepped from the stairwell, reminding her that the elevator was out, so she inhaled a deep breath, then took the stairs. Five flights. Thank goodness she worked out regularly.
Due to the blackout, though, the stately hotel was hot, filled with complaining customers and not running at its normal model of efficiency. The dark stairwell was claustrophobic and suffocating. When she exited and made her way to the salon, where she’d asked Ethan to meet her, her legs felt heavy and weighted.
Exhaustion from the sleepless night added to the fatigue. A case of nerves clutched her stomach in a viselike grip.
Everybody experienced a case of jitters before the wedding. It only seemed right that an anxiety attack would strike before the divorce.
Thankfully, the salon was empty when she entered, giving her a brief reprieve. In an effort to calm herself, she studied the fabulous brocade wall coverings, the striped damask wingback chairs, the intimate seating areas meant to invite conversation. It was a beautiful, peaceful place, one that held no sentimental meaning for them so she didn’t have to be haunted by memories of the two of them reclining in front of the fireplace or cuddled together sipping sherry on one of the loveseats.
She sensed Ethan had arrived before she even pivoted toward the door. His masculine scent permeated the room, and she felt his dark eyes skating over her, making her skin burn with need.
Shaken already, she turned to face him.
He looked massive and intimidating, mysterious and dark, a man who stood out in a crowd. A man who took control. A man who lived on the edge. One who snuck away in the night to save the innocent with no regard for his own life. Born with an adventurous soul, Ethan led others in the fight against terrorism and evil.
And he loved his son fiercely.
She remembered the tears glinting in his eyes when Jesse was born. At the memory, emotions crowded her chest, led by a sudden rush of affection she hadn’t expected to feel.
“Rebecca?”
His gruff voice sent a tingle down her spine.
“Hello, Ethan.” Her throat barely worked. Her dry hands itched to touch him, to pull him to her once more. To kiss him hello.
To kiss him goodbye.
To stop this madness they’d started two years ago.
Heat suffused the room, the tension palpable as he moved toward her, like a panther stalking his prey.
His dark look consumed her. Resurrected memories of erotic touches and whispered promises long into the night. Of lovemaking and marriage vows and total possession of body, mind and soul.
Of being a couple and a family. Of wanting their marriage to last.
