“I’m heading home. I have...laundry to do,” she finished lamely.
“I’m going to the gym. Let me give you a lift,” he said without protesting. She felt herself droop. He really didn’t want her there. Jack, like herself, had been caught up in the heat of the moment the night before. They didn’t have much to talk about in the light of day. He’d be glad to have her out of the way, and she suspected that she felt the same about him. Embarrassed but relieved to be going home, she tossed her dress over her shoulder and followed him to the elevator.
He was kind but remote on the drive to her apartment. He said he’d call her later, and she nodded without expecting him to follow through and actually call. The change in his manner was so great; she wondered if she had been too easy and ruined the fun of pursuit for him or something. Her mind cast about for women’s magazine style reasons for his behavior but kept coming back to the fact that he was just interested in having her in his bed, not his life. The truth was, she was hurt by it, but she understood. It would be a hell of a lot easier if they didn’t get involved. Breaking off their fling now before anyone got their feelings hurt would be for the best.
Chapter 20
Jack rang her doorbell and when she answered, he was in gym shorts, a white t-shirt clinging damply to his chest, wet hair curling at the ends.
“I have a conference call in a few. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Why wouldn’t I be okay?” she asked, trying not to drool over his post-workout body. She could smell his sweat, salty and fresh like the outdoors.
“Because I dropped you off and you were quiet. I couldn’t stop thinking about you my entire workout.”
“I should be at work. Taking the day off was a mistake,” she only took the day off because she thought she was going to spend it with him.
His phone rang.
“That’s your conference call,” Britt said.
“I’ve gotta take this. I’ll call you later.”
She smiled. “Okay. Have a great day.”
“You too.”
He must’ve felt guilty. He told her to take the day off, and then didn’t want to spend it with her. And he must’ve pondered it during his workout. Maybe he felt better knowing she was going into work and not spending the day alone.
Despite her protests about laundry, Britt dressed for work and went to the office for a while. She kept busy and didn’t talk to anyone unless they came to her cube with a question. Her phone, which ordinarily she kept in a drawer turned virtuously to silent mode during work hours, sat forlorn on her desk all afternoon without a single call or message from Jack. She spent a lot of her time staring at her phone, going over everything he had said the night before. Desire had clouded their judgment, she reasoned. Not since college had she made or heard such protestations of lust, of romance, of feelings that were true only in the fleeting moment of passion. She had believed those words last night, finding herself more vulnerable, more gullible than she had imagined. He hadn’t meant a damn thing he said. He didn’t want to be her lover or take her to India or change her life for the better. He wanted her for one night only, and he said whatever he needed to in order to make that happen. It wasn’t monstrous certainly, but it didn’t make him a prince either.
Britt gathered her things and went home that evening without hearing from him at all. She ate an entire bag of microwave popcorn while watching one of those wedding dress makeover shows. Sullen and disappointed, she laid out her clothes for the next day and sat on her bed thinking how miserable she was. The last thing she needed was another man who made her miserable, she thought. Kevin had let her down, but she never yearned for him this way. Jack made her yearn. The memory of Jack, not just his body but the way he talked about the places he’d visited, the charity tie-in on his restaurant, all of his projects. He was candid and interesting and absolutely magnetic. She was attracted to every bit of him. Except this part where he forgot she existed, probably because he was being lavished with attention by supermodels at some posh gala while she was trying to figure out how many Chips Ahoy she’d just eaten. She was guessing six, but her guess might have been low, she thought sadly.
Britt’s phone lit up and buzzed. She swiped the screen and saw Jack’s name on the caller ID.
“Hello?” she said, trying to keep the hope out of her voice.
“I’m downstairs at your building. Can I come up?”
“Okay,” she said, torn. She was hesitant after her day of loneliness and uncertainty about letting him back in, but her need for him was too powerful to be wise.
She didn’t run to the door, but to the mirror, and brushed her hair, pulling it back neatly and debating whether to put on eyeliner. She quickly put on some mascara and hustled to the door. She opened it right after he knocked and she knew it was obvious she’d been standing there waiting.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Jack handed her a bouquet of calla lilies.
“They’re white as the Taj Mahal, Britt. I thought you might forgive me if I brought you something beautiful,” he admitted.
“Forgive you for what?” She tried to sound nonchalant.
Britt stepped back and set the flowers on the table, letting him inside.
“I need to talk to you,” he said, pushing a hand through his black hair.
“We don’t have to talk about anything, Jack,” she said, not unkindly. “It’s okay if you’ve changed your mind about—about me.”
“I haven’t. But my situation has changed,” he said, sitting down on her couch.