Laid Over Page 3

  “A lawyer costs money; the kind of money I don’t have. And what I do have, I need for more important things,” I mumble, having already forgotten my own chastisement and moved onto cataloguing the acute angle of his jaw and hint of dark stubble beginning to emerge there. “You’ll need a shave soon,” I snicker, then wince, because spontaneous outbursts are wince-worthy.

  Eyes staying on mine, alight with something positively bewitching, he raises a hand and lands one sharp knuckle rap on the partition… which immediately lowers. “Sir?”

  “Some place nice, close by and not out of the way, Maxwell. Lily and I wish to freshen up before our meeting.”

  “Yes, sir.” And with that, we’re again left to our privacy.

  “But, we—”

  “Have time,” he hums low. “Enough to grab a quick shower, change clothes, and get you fed. Then back on the road.”

  “But—”

  A single finger, possessing the power of a thousand hands, tilts my chin, aligning my lips with the pair tempting them. “It’s happening, Lily. In that order. And no,” he says, chuckling, “scrunching up your nose while scowling won’t deter me. But please, do keep trying; I find it rather adorable.”

  One pit-stop at the cutest little bed-and-breakfast later — the owners, Ed and Louise, all too happy to accommodate a couple of middle-of-the-night, no-reservations pop-ins — I’m fed, showered, sporting shaven legs… and dreading having to shed this warm, fluffy robe to put my old outfit on again.

  Or…

  Um…

  Maybe not?

  “Trevor?” I call toward the connecting door between our rooms, certain he’s waiting right on the other side.

  “I had Louise bring it up. No, I didn’t enter your room,” he answers my unasked question.

  Well, the first one anyway.

  “All right,” my reply, and suspicion, hang, “but, why? I can’t show up to court in pajamas, let alone pajamas that probably cost more than my car payment! Wouldn’t fare well for my case; the one where I’m claiming I need the money.”

  I so wish I could, though — the short, silk nightie, in a gorgeous, delicate shade of pink, and matching overlay, look heavenly.

  “Such. A. Waste. A crime, in fact.” I hear his angry murmur, that I suspect was meant for only himself. “Are you dressed?” This is asked in purposeful volume.

  “No. I’m standing here, in the softest robe I’ve ever wanted to steal, wondering…”

  The door crashes open and a freshly bathed, clean shaven, scowling Trevor Kincade is stalking toward me before I have time to decide how I feel… about his easily gained access inside my room… among other things.

  “Did he ever once take care of you?” I don’t ask who he means, or why he wants to know, and simply, honestly, shake my head from side-to-side. “Fucking moron. He deserves to lose you, and everything else he’s got coming to him.”

  “Um, thank you?” It’s all I can think to say, a bit thrown by the beautiful, overbearing man standing mere inches from my body, naked and ignited beneath this robe.

  After a long, hefty exhale and a hand running backward through his damp hair, he lifts his eyes to meet mine. “You, you deserve silk, Lily. Soft, like your heart. Pink, like your plush, bee-stung lips. Put it on.” He takes one step in, and I nod. “Good, glad we got that settled. I want you comfortable while we travel. When we arrive, and it’s time to change… you’ll change.”

  “Trevor?” My chin, nerves, and resistance all shake in cadence with the word.

  “Ask,” he husks, his slow-growing grin tickling my mouth.

  “Why?” I hope he understands, and answers, the many layers I left unexpressed.

  He does.

  “I’m not exactly sure, yet, but I’ve found that my first instinct is almost always the correct one. And of you, I am certain; I could shower you in the finest of everything and it wouldn’t ever come close to measuring up to what you have, and are dying to freely give, selflessly, endlessly, to the luckiest of bastards. The one, who will come along, lucky in that he’s wise enough to get out of his own way long enough to recognize it. You. And cherish it.”

  That was the most amazing thing anyone’s ever said to me, will ever say to me, but it came with a sting I know I’ll feel forever — a ridiculous burn of premature proportions — because he just made it amply clear that there’s zero chance that “lucky bastard” will be him.

  Why the hell not? And why does that hurt so bad, so early in knowing him?

  And again… why the hell not him?

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I wouldn’t expect you to,” he forces a curt, humorless laugh. “More proof of your flawless soul. The likes of you could never make sense of the likes of me, sweet Lily. Get dressed. I’ll wait for you in the hallway.”

  She’s a vision, a rare treasure who knows not her value. A value which cannot be measured. A value which makes her invaluable.

  And I… I am a bastard; a selfish, self-loathing masochist, who cannot help himself.

  I do want her to be comfortable, gathering peace as we travel, but the pink silk? That’s for me. A temptation crafted for no other purpose than to torture myself. A beautifully wrapped package I will never be worthy of opening.

  “Lily, don’t be afraid, darling girl. Lie down, close your eyes. Rest. No harm will come to you, in any way. I am, if nothing else, able to control myself.”

  “I get it,” she snipes, as though offended, “loud and clear. No need to keep reminding me.”

  “I don’t—”

  “Understand? Same. How’s it feel? Not too good, right?”

  Body language speaking loudest, she shrinks into her ensemble: arms crossed in front of chest, shoulders slumped, curled up in a defensive, protective little ball. “Don’t take this the wrong way…” Her wild eyes seek and snare mine. “Or do, I’m gonna say it regardless, since it’s driving me crazy! I am well aware of my shortcomings, Trevor Kincade. But, for your information, I’ve picked up on a few of yours too, mister. So… so…”

  I consider myself an intelligent man, which is why I fake my pondering — via rubbing a hand over my mouth and chin, in hopes of hiding my grin — while she authentically continues her own. Confirmation of my amused fascination would only work her up even more. And though I do so enjoy it, my goal in helping her relax before her upcoming battle is foremost, and genuine.

  “I mean, really, who cruises down the road dressed in lingerie, Trevor? Subtle, very subtle. I put it on anyway though, happily, because it, you… you made me feel… pretty,” she admits. “And, not that it’s an option, ‘cause it’s so not, but, well… why the hell don’t you want it to be an option?”

  “Remind me, please,” I manage without laughing, “when, exactly, I said anything of the sort.”

  “Please.” She makes an unladylike, but cute nevertheless, sound of sarcastic disbelief. “It’s too late now. The window for patronization has closed. I appreciate the ride, shower, meal. I even appreciate this feels-like-melted-butter nightgown my silly ass has on, but none of that makes you any better than me. Richer? Yes. More… resourceful? Yes to that too. But not better. And, if you thought differently, why even bother?”

  She’s had her say; released frustrations, most of which I suspect stem from her fear of the quickly approaching destination, but now it’s my turn. I move too fast for her to cower from, or stop me, sharing half her seat, and all her space. “I’ve not once thought, let alone said, that I think I’m better than you. In fact, had you understood what I told you before, you’d know it’s the exact opposite. And as for wanting you? Lily, you’re not a dumb woman, so don’t speak to the contrary. Of course I want you. How could I not? But, like you said, it isn’t an option. It’d be rather foolish of me to think I can change your mind, and more than rude to try… especially under the circumstances.”

  Her head shakes once, sharp and fast, apparently doing the trick to clear it since she looks, rather than glares, into my ey
es and merely breathes her realization. “You weren’t backhandedly insulting me. You really are a refined gentleman.”

  It wasn’t a question, but I respond anyway, because it also wasn’t correct. “You met me only just today, and technically you’re a married woman. Lily, everything about you screams of the indisputable fact that those two things, among many others, would prevent you from ever allowing yourself to be fucked in the back of a car. And able to hear those screams, I would never try to persuade you otherwise. Which, ironically, answers your other big, repetitive question, why. That. Is. Why.”

  The innocent confusion swimming in her doe eyes would undo a worthier man. So sweet, she is… I reach up to caress her cheek. “Any time you spend worrying over your worth or allure is wasted. From the moment you enter anyone’s line of sight, you’ve got them. Intrigued. Longing. Spellbound. Without knowing, or without any effort. I’m flattered, even more so shocked,” I continue, chuckling, “to hear that you’d want me to want you. Which, again, I do. Very much.”

  Restraint pushed beyond its limits, I firm my hold on her cheek and cover her lips with mine. Savoring, swallowing her tiny gasp, and taking more. More of her unique flavor, her lazy-but-eager tongue, and shallow breaths. “Lily,” I murmur when I lean away, “that’s all for now, sweetheart. I couldn’t help myself, but now, I really must help myself. Resist. Open your eyes for me.”

  A begrudged effort, she slowly complies, showing to me a revived spirit, a hope within her — the romantic she’d forgotten she’s always been suddenly reawakened — and guilt instantly consumes me.

  God, but I’m the most selfish of bastards.

  “Our journey’s set to end soon, once we’ve made sure you receive justice in court. But, I’ll leave you with all my information… should you ever find yourself in the mood to join me for another adventure.”

  “You’d want to see me again?” she asks, before taming the whimsy in her voice, spearing me deeper… a reminder that what I say next must be done so clearly.

  “I would love to.” I tuck a soft, golden strand behind her ear. “I could take you away for a weekend, anywhere you want, just the two of us. I’m confident we’d have a very good time.” I smile, pleased with the results — concise, polite clarity.

  “Weekend getaways, huh? Kinda like… extended booty calls, when I’m in the mood?”

  “Yes.” I laugh. “Something along those lines.”

  “Such a shame,” she tsks the same phrase I’d used earlier. “Divine, sexy, debonair words, tongue, and aura… all nothing more than a polished disguise for the cold, untouchable cynic underneath. You wax on and on about my virtue, then propose booty calls? Unbelievable. And out of the question.”

  “Lily, please don’t be hurt, or internalize it. I didn’t say ‘booty call.’ Not only because I would never use such crude… slang, but because that’s not what I was suggesting. Not exactly. I truly enjoy spending time with you, and thrill in every new thing I learn about you. But yes, due to my schedule, and… predilections… our rendezvous will be only that. Notice, however, that I meant rendezvous in the plural,” I say with a smile. “I’d like to spend many a weekend in your company.”

  Her chin juts up, chest out, and eyes take blaze with an oddly smug confidence. “You’re lying.”

  “About?”

  “All of it. The persona you emit, a fake, that you have to constantly work to achieve. The whole cool-and-uncaring thing when you’re anything but. And certainly, perhaps most of all, the easily obtained detachment. You’re barely able to fool yourself, and not fooling me a damn bit. You. Are. Lying.”

  Left to right, I shake my head and offer a smile that I pray reads as kind. “I assure you, I’m not. You’re different, that I freely confess; but not that different. And Lily, please, don’t consider this a challenge. If you do, you’ll only end up feeling hurt, foolish and used when—”

  “When what? Another seemingly virtuous, innocent, pliable woman sits down beside you?”

  “Oh, but you are full of enticing surprises, aren’t you?” I laugh, taking a moment to absorb every beautiful, genuine, ornery, clever thing about her. “Lily, hear me. I am too old, and of no desire, to change. I am also, however, finding myself more than a bit mesmerized by you. So, if you call, I will answer. Consider that, please, before you do. If you do.”

  She pops a shoulder and disarms me with a brilliant, sure smile. “Guess we’ll see.”

  And so, what somehow — too quickly not to be thought odd, yet too distinct to be dismissed as strange — became our shared journey, continues, but now in an uncomfortable silence, made even more suffocatingly stiff for me when Trevor decides to get comfortable, freeing the top several buttons of his dress shirt and rolling the sleeves up to his elbows. The maneuvering not only sends a waft of his crisp, manly scent over to assault my senses, but the few peeks I steal from the corner of my eye confirm that a “casual” Trevor Kincade is as sexy a sight as one can dare dream to ever behold.

  And with the confirmation comes a ring of ridicule in my head… only a fool would deny themselves the chance at time spent with him, no matter the “label,” terms or ticking clock, Lily.

  True, oh so true, but, as proven by my current desperate destination to which we race, I’m nothing if not a fool. And I refuse to change that, or let it become an aspect of myself for which I’m ashamed; because I’m not. Quite the opposite; I’m proud of who I am — a “silly-heart,” as my father’s always coined me, always smiling as he says it.

  When I walk out of that courtroom tomorrow, hurt, betrayed, and tried to be made a fool by a man I loved freely, without forethought, caution, sense or reason — foolishly — I will do so with my head held high. The same Lily who walked in; the Lily I want to be. Open-minded, open-hearted, and open to one day, finding the kind of love I deserve.

  Regardless of how others act, or the skepticism and disappointment the world does its best to impose, I am determined to stay silly. Foolish. Optimistic, always dreaming, with my wings ready and waiting to open and send me flying.

  Yes, me, a grown woman — I believe in fairytales.

  And even though everything he’s done up to this point has been nothing short of lavish, intoxicating… noble… deep down I know that Trevor Kincade is the anti-Prince Charming. At his core, the epicenter of traits to which he will always eventually return, he’s serious. Cynical. Composed. And… enchanting, in spite of himself.

  One weekend with him, perhaps even only one night with him, and I’d fall in love. Of that, my silly heart is sure.

  “What are you doing?” I ask Trevor when he starts to follow me toward the large, foreboding wooden doors of the courthouse.

  “Lily.” He ducks his head just so; enough to level his eyes of ‘really?’ with mine, “I made it very clear that I’d be doing exactly this; accompanying you.”

  “Trevor.” I sigh and shake my head, my frazzled nerves unequipped to deal with the demands of two men today, “As much as I appreciate all your help, your gallantry, it needs to stop. Now. This,” I motion between us, “has been an interesting, mysterious encounter that I’ll never forget, or regret, but… this where it ends. Where we part ways, with memories of that one time, that I know I will think of often.”

  “Very good, beautiful. You were assertive, succinct, and your voice remained strong throughout. Now, use all that in there,” he points to the courthouse, “for it’s wasted on me. I don’t take well to being told what to do, sweet Lily, nor do I have any plans of parting, leaving you to face this alone.”

  “Why?” My confusion bursts forth.

  “Why what?”

  I shake my head again, growing more confused and exhausted by the minute, and still having yet to face my biggest feat of the day. “Why do you care; let alone enough to stay? You’ve made it very clear we could never strive to be something meaningful, so why act as if I might mean something to you? Why invest any more time, effort, and what would appear to any normal person to be interest,
in me when you could never truly care about me?”

  He tilts his head, brows arching as though he’s surprised. “Where do you get these crazy notions of yours, Lily? At no point have I said I could never care for you. Why would I, when I already do?”

  I should be concentrating on my divorce right now; it’s kind of a big deal, and happening in mere minutes, yet here I stand, unable to focus on anything other than the infuriating, intriguing, gorgeous man in front of me, speaking in riddles.

  “Reynolds versus Reynolds,” a loud, authoritative voice echoes through the lobby, which I have to assume Trevor ushered me into at some point in my daze, drawing my eyes from said usher to the source.

  All at once, realization hits me; it’s time. Our case is being called, and Ethan must already be waiting inside, because I don’t see him out here.

  “That’s me,” my whisper of the obvious is strangled.

  “So it is,” Trevor confirms, taking firm hold of both my shoulders. “You can do this, Lily. And once it’s over, you’ll never have to think about it again. I want you to go in there, and be brave and bold; then, you’re done. For good. I’ll be right beside you.”

  I want to again scream ‘why?’ at him. Slap him. Hug him. But I only have time to turn, steel my shoulders, lift my chin, and place one foot in front of the other. Trevor opens the door for me; another heavy, gross misuse of trees — I dare say the gates to Heaven aren’t so boldly built — and I step inside. The courtroom is much bigger than I was expecting, and virtually empty, somehow making it seem even more enormous and imposing. Ethan sits with his lawyer at a table in the front, and turns to leer at me as I travel the center aisle.

  I freeze in place, gauging the various exits, and to which is the shortest route, when a warm, comforting hand finds the small of my back and guides me forward, some of the owner’s natural confidence being shared with me.

  “Mrs. Reynolds?”

  “Yes, your Honor,” Trevor answers for me, helping me into a chair at the other, empty table at the front of the courtroom.