Like your father. He had fought like anything not to be like him. He worked hard, was reliable, efficient, honest.
But even so, was he like him? In the sense that he couldn’t commit to a relationship—couldn’t give whatever it was that would keep that person with him. Jared knew his father hadn’t been interested in either his wife or his son. He’d been selfish—only taking what he wanted—which in the end was simply enough of the stuff in the bottle.
Was Jared as selfish? As susceptible to addiction? Wasn’t he addicted now? It was just that his stimulant of choice was Amanda. He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anything and he craved her in a way that he wasn’t sure was at all normal.
But it was just want. His life had not enabled him to love or be loved.
His fingers itched. He could send her a text, see how she was. But he didn’t think he’d get a reply—and he’d far rather hear it in her voice, so he could catch the nuances and pick up on any unspoken tension or relief. He ached to know.
Damn. Why hadn’t she agreed to move? Didn’t she want him any more? But he knew she did; she’d ravished him last night with a hunger that was in no way satisfied, not yet. So why so angry about the apartment idea? It was an arrangement that would give them all the benefits of a relationship and none of the…
What?
He put a hand on the cold pane of glass and asked himself.
None of the angst? Concern? Complications?
Yet here he was already unable to work, unable to relax, for the worry about how she was getting on today. Wanting to talk to her, to help her, wanting to be with her…
The complications were already there.
And he was an idiot.
He pressed both hands on the glass. She was right. His offer had been an insult. He’d pretty much asked her what Linda had asked of him—but without the threat.
He’d treated her as a plaything, not a person.
But he hadn’t meant it like that. God knew he hadn’t meant it. But his offer had still been based in utter selfishness. He’d wanted her on his terms. Safe, emotionless terms. And in doing so he’d hurt her. Sure she’d been angry, proud, strong. But he’d seen it—the overbright flash in her eyes, the determination to hold herself away from him…
All of a sudden he couldn’t breathe.
Why had she been so hurt? Had she actually wanted more?
He jerked away from the window. No. He knew what she wanted—she’d implicitly agreed to it, hadn’t she? A few weeks of physical fun and that was it…hell, she was the one who chose to leave his bed every night.
She wanted him as her lover and nothing else. And he had nothing more to give.
But he was in a bind. She was right, he’d needed to think about what he really wanted, then they’d talk. But he couldn’t open up to her…
His heart thundered in his chest. Risk. The greatest risk of his life—he, who’d played with fortunes for fun back in his banking days, was more terrified now about simply opening his mouth. Because he wasn’t sure how he’d cope if he lost her for good.
He formulated a strategy—the heat between them fried his brain—if he was going to be able to express himself then he needed some control. He had to remove sex from the equation—at least until he knew.
He nodded to himself. Right. He wasn’t going to be with her again until they had their relationship sorted out.
Relationship.
He breathed out. Whispered the word. Rolled it round in his mouth. A funny little glow burned in his chest. Hell, he was going soft. But he liked the idea of having her around. For as long as she wanted, as much as she wanted. He frowned—there was the rub. She could go at any time. Could he try to keep her happy? Keep her wanting to be with him? He didn’t know that he could. He hadn’t been able to keep his own mother wanting him—what hope did he have with a woman like Amanda?
The sexual attraction between them was undeniable. But if it burned out, did she feel there was anything else binding them together? He closed his eyes, trying to quell the anxiety.
He had no choice but to ask—find out what she wanted, and see whether they could keep this thing going. Adrenalin surged through him. His muscles sharpened, he was ready to fight, now knowing what he was fighting for—more time together.
What had been her recipe for a happy marriage? Best friends, support, love. He wasn’t capable of the total commitment—but two out of three might do it. Could she accept that?
He had to try. He had to do that for her.
The flight went as well as she could have hoped. Colin was happy to be with her. She’d said she was taking him to stay at a nice new place. Going over the basics she’d been saying on the phone. She helped him into the front seat of Jared’s car. The nurse climbed into the back, clearly used to riding in such luxury.