Possession (Fallen Angels #5)(69)
Author: J.R. Ward

He was.

The only thing that could have been worse? Learning that all along, through the course of their relationship, he had been nothing but a lie.

Plus, now that she had met Duke? She understood what Thom meant. Sometimes … you just crossed paths with someone irresistible, and depending on your circumstance? It could be devastating.

In her case? She was single, and that was a good thing. How would she have felt if she’d run into the likes of Duke … and been in a relationship?

On that note, Cait glanced at her clock. Four thirty-nine.

For most of her life, she would have forced herself to sit still for the remaining six minutes. Now? Screw that.

It was time to get ready.

Shutting down her workstation, she headed for the second floor, and it was as she threw on her shower and let all her clothes dump on the floor again that she realized … yes, in fact, she was probably going through exactly what had happened to Thom.

For years, she hadn’t been prepared to cut him any slack. And when he’d called to say they were pregnant? She had turned to her diet and the gym to crush all the emotions that had come up.

But now? After talking to him downstairs?

A weight had been lifted off of her, and the relief she had been seeking in all kinds of other outlets settled through her, a balm that ushered in with it the sort of peace that had seemed impossible to achieve.

Interesting. She and her mom and dad disagreed about a lot. But if this was the forgiveness they advocated? It was freedom from your own pain.

And that was a very, very good thing.

Cait tried not to be on time. Unfortunately, old habits died hard, and she was three minutes early. After eyeing the Riverside Diner’s parking lot, she decided to drive on by and waste some time going around the block for a while.

Six ten. That was her sweet spot. Not too early, not too late.

At the allotted moment in history—not that she was blowing this out of proportion or anything, she pulled her SUV into the parking area and found a spot. It was kind of a surprise to be so nervous as she looked around for his truck.

Not in the lot: From what she could see thanks to a combination of streetlights and the fading glow of the sunset’s last gasp, there were ten or twelve vehicles and a couple of motorcycles. No trucks.

Maybe he was fashionably late, too.

Getting out and locking up, she headed for the entrance, her stomach doing that butterfly thing she’d heard about, but never experienced before. And like her brain didn’t want to be left out of the flutter-party, all sorts of random nonsense were jumping through her head, none of the thoughts sticking, her skull like a child’s bouncy castle filled with balls.

Pulling open the doors, she walked into a traditional fifties diner, red Naugahyde booths going down one side, a counter with stools across the aisle, a serving setup and flap doors into the kitchen behind that.

Duke wasn’t in the booths, although several men looked up at her arrival and did a double take—something that had happened on campus today as well. Yup, blonds definitely got more attention, but she wasn’t sure about the fun, especially if tonight’s date ended up not happening. Which would be two evenings in a row. Although at least there was a good chance she wouldn’t get chased into an elevator—

There he was.

Through the arches that led into the other dining room, he was at a booth by the back exit, facing out, staring right at her.

He didn’t smile. Or wave. Or sit a little straighter.

But his burning eyes ate her up, the impact of that stare flushing away everything that was between them—the tables, the waitresses, the other patrons, the distance across a red carpeted floor.

It was just as it had been when they’d looked at each other in the café parking lot.

As Cait walked over to him, she found that her body moved differently, a sensual feeling infusing her legs and hips and br**sts with a slow-boil heat that she wanted to turn up.

“Hi,” she said, her voice deeper than usual.

“You look good.” His eyes dipped down her. “Really good.”

“Thanks. You, too.” Although he could have been wearing a seventies lounge suit and she probably would have drooled over the polyester.

Sliding in opposite him, she took off her coat and was acutely aware of the way her br**sts moved against the fine material of her blouse—and so was he. Now he changed positions, moving around as if impatient.

Or maybe uncomfortable thanks to an … um, yeah.

And that was totally hot.

Without further conversation, he extended his hand across the tabletop, palm up, and in reply, she put hers on top of his immediately.

God, he was … extraordinary. Rugged. Handsome, but with an edge. And still every bit as muscular in that black T-shirt as he had been before. His dark hair was a little shorter than she remembered, as if he’d had it trimmed during the day—maybe for their date? And there was no five o’clock shadow shading that strong jaw of his. Which suggested he’d showered and shaved in preparation for her.

Which was a compliment, wasn’t it.

As she stared at him across the table, she couldn’t help but compare him to G.B. With the other man, she had been starstruck, yes—and there was a certain intensity there. But that experience was a curiously removed one, almost as if she were examining something that was exotic up close for the first time.

With Duke? He was just flat-out sexy, from those hooded eyes to his full lips to those shoulders—

“I waited all day for this,” he said in a gravel-filled voice.

Cait flushed from head to foot. “Me, too—”

Like the echo from some distant world that had nothing to do with her or him, she heard a phone go off dimly. Might have been her own; she didn’t care. In fact, a stampede could thunder through the diner and she doubted she would notice, or care.

God, she wanted him. Here. Now…

“Tell me something,” he said.

“What?”

“Your name. I still don’t know what it is.”

Cait smiled and dropped her eyes. Guess she’d missed that. “It’s Cait. As in Caitlyn.”

“That’s nice.”

“Thank you.”

Annnnnnd now back to the mutual staring.

In fact, they were still sitting like that, looking into each other’s eyes, holding hands, when the waitress came over with menus. Neither of them acknowledged what was delivered, or made much of a response when they were asked what they wanted to drink.

“I’m not hungry,” he said, “for food. How about you?”