After all, this wasn’t real.
The sexual fog drifted away and left her with a dull, nagging pain. She looked upon the policeman as Fate—her Earth Mother finally stepping in to lend a helping hand.
“Alexa—”
“No.” She put up one hand and Nick went quiet, waiting. Alexa knew, right then and there, she had very dangerous emotions for Nicholas Ryan. Messy, real life feelings. She took the truth like a dose of bitter medicine and met the fact head on. If she slept with him, things would turn for her, and remain the same for him. She’d fall in love, and he’d have a good time. She’d be broken-hearted at the end of a year, and he’d walk away without a glance back. Another piece of information hit her like a knockout to the head.
If he asked, she’d go to bed with him.
She practically shuddered with shame. She had no control over her hormones when he touched her. She couldn’t even promise she’d never consider the opportunity in the future. But she knew one thing—the only way she’d go to bed with her husband was if he begged. She wanted him mad for her, hot and explosive and so horny just a touch would push him over the edge. Like tonight. But she wanted no more excuses of temper, or sleeplessness, or alcohol. She wanted straight out, fabulous, passionate sex with his head clear and his eyes on her. Not thinking about Gabriella. And not thinking about an end to celibacy.
She needed him to want only her.
That was the last proverbial nail in her coffin. Because tonight, she still wasn’t convinced he wanted his wife in his bed.
Dully, she congratulated herself on being as logical as Nick. If she couldn’t sleep with him, she’d have to keep pushing him away and walk the line between friendship and desire. She was tired of fighting. So, she chose honesty with a twist. Just like a hot toddy—the medicine went down better with a little bit of liquor.
“Nick, I’m sorry.” She pulled herself to full height and wrapped herself in an invisible cloud of dignity. “I was wrong to hide those dogs from you. I’ll get everything cleaned up and drive them back to the shelter in the morning. If they need me again, I’ll tell you and I’m sure we can work it out.”
“Alexa—”
She continued in a rush. “And about what happened here. It’s okay. I got caught up in the moment like you, and I’ve heard anger usually turns to passion, and let’s face it, we’re both sexually frustrated. These episodes are bound to happen. And I don’t want to talk about it—I’m sick of talking this business relationship to death. It’s just about money so we need to stick to the contract. Okay?”
…
Nick struggled for composure at his wife’s speech. The itch between his shoulder blades warned him she hid a lot more than she let on. He knew this moment could turn on a quarter and not a dime if he took one step away from his logically plotted course.
He pushed the nagging thought away and looked at her. As the days passed, he realized she became more beautiful to him. Light shimmered from her eyes, and smile, and her very heart. Their dialogues pushed open doors he thought had been locked, but the result was a strange flow of emotion he didn’t feel comfortable with—and never would. She was a woman who needed a secure relationship. Hell, she was a woman who deserved it. He could only give her sex and friendship. Not love.
He’d made his decision years ago. The cost was too great.
So, Nick watched the fragile thread snap between them again with a mixture of emotions and too much damn regret.
He forced a nod and a slight smile. “Apology and explanation accepted. No more analyzing.”
She smiled back but her eyes remained distant. “Good. Why don’t you go upstairs while I clean up?”
“I’ll help.”
“I’d rather do it myself.”
He moved toward the stairs and studied the hound dog crouched in the corner. A long, yellow body. Ugly face. Canine eyes echoed his own past—lots of pain and no one to count on. Matted fur matched a long tail, hanging limply to one side. Definitely a loner, like an older kid in an orphanage flung amidst cute, little babies. Probably caught trying to steal some food. Probably no family or kids or connections. The dog stood quietly at the foot of the stairs and watched him climb.
Nick remembered the summer he’d found an old mutt in the woods. The dog was starved, with clumpy fur and hopeless eyes. Nick dragged him home and plied him with food and water. Eventually he nursed him back to health and made a friend.
He’d managed to hide him from his mother for a while since the house was so big, and the housekeeper agreed to keep the secret. Then one day he arrived home from school and went looking for him and noticed his father was back from a trip to the Cayman Islands. He knew immediately his dog was not there. When he confronted his father, Jed Ryan laughed and gave him a rough push. “No losers in this house, buddy. Maybe if you got a real dog like a German Shepherd. That mutt was good for nothing and actually crapped in the house. I got rid of it.”
Jed Ryan had walked away, and Nick remembered the lesson again. Never get attached. He’d thought about that dog every day for years, then finally locked it away where the thought could never bother him again.
Until now.
For the second time that night, Nick hesitated, wanting to take a chance on something but too afraid of the consequences. His heart hitched with longing, unrest, confusion. Then he turned his back on his wife and the ugly dog and shut the door behind him.
Chapter Eight
Nick stood on the dock and watched the line of boats bob in the water. Cranky waves rose and hit the shore as a harbinger of winter. The burnt orange sunset cut through the threatening dark and illuminated the archway of lights from the Newburgh Beacon Bridge. He stuck his hands in his Armani suit jacket and breathed in the fresh, clean air. Calmness seeped through his body as he stared at his beloved mountains, and once again, he knew this was where he belonged.
Ten years ago, the waterfront property had been infested with drug dealers and crack addicts. The beautiful lines of the river were steeped in garbage, the elegant brick buildings stood empty, their broken windows a cry for help. Eventually, investors saw the potential of the area and began to throw money into a dream of restoration.
Nick and his uncle watched the project carefully and bided their time. Somehow, they had both suspected the opportunity would finally come for Dreamscape to profit locally. The first daring person to open a bar in the area began to draw a new crowd who wanted to have a beer and some Buffalo wings while watching the seagulls. As the cops descended into the heart of the city, cleanup projects sprouted up from not-for-profit organizations. The last five years proved the project was worthy of investors’ attention. The restaurants and spa Nick wanted to build would change the Hudson Valley forever. And he knew he was the one meant to build it.