When Lightning Strikes (Whiskey Creek #1)(62)
Author: Brenda Novak

“Could be.” Lighting the instant log they’d bought on the way over, Simon started a fire. “Has anyone ever come out and asked her if he gets violent?”

Finished prepping the movie, Gail left her computer to warm her hands above the flames. “She’d never admit it, even if they did.”

The smell of smoke and accelerant filtered into the room, chasing away some of the mustiness of the old home.

“Maybe she’s afraid to leave him for fear he’ll really hurt her,” Simon said. “Or that she’ll wind up with nothing. Does she have any education or job skills?”

“Not that I know of. Just her looks, but that’s always been enough in the past.”

As far as Simon was concerned, she was too Barbie-like, which reminded him of so many of the women he’d met in Hollywood. “I guess she could always become a Playboy Bunny.”

Gail arranged her laptop next to the bed he’d made and slipped into her sleeping bag. “I bet you could put her in contact with the right folks.”

“I’ve been invited to the mansion.”

“How was it?”

“I didn’t go.”

“Why not?”

He found that whole scene to be a little too misogynistic. Anyway, it was his father’s crowd. But he didn’t see any point in denying involvement, however minimal. Having avoided one mistake was hardly enough to improve his reputation. “I must’ve been busy that night.”

“How unfortunate for you.”

“Should I make the offer?” he asked, just to see what she’d say.

She glared at him. “Stay away from her.”

Leaning over, he peered into her face. “Do I detect a note of jealousy?”

“Of course not. I’m just trying to keep you out of trouble.”

“Then you won’t be interested in this, but—” he caught a lock of her hair between his fingers “—I’d rather make love to you than her any day.”

He probably shouldn’t have said it. The admission made him that much more aware of her sexually. He wanted to touch her to see if she’d welcome it, to see if she’d respond with the same earthy realness she brought to everything else. She was so different from any of the other women he’d known, most of whom stripped before he could even suggest it. They wanted the bragging rights of having slept with someone famous, wanted to gain entrance to his world or to feel they had the right to ask him to recommend them for an acting role. His partners had used him as much as he’d ever used them. Even his ex had used physical access to her body like a weapon. Or an incentive.

But maybe he was merely justifying what he’d done….

Gail wanted something more from that aspect of a relationship, and that made him eager to see what “more” might feel like. He’d been so empty when she assumed her new role in his life, so disillusioned. But she’d made the little things important again.

He was trying to tell her that he felt differently about her, that making love with her would be different, too, but she wasn’t listening.

“You just feel that way because I’m the only woman who’s ever refused you,” she said with a dismissive laugh, and reached for the hangers they’d brought for their marshmallows. “The second I give in, you won’t be interested anymore.”

When he didn’t say anything, she glanced over to see his response and he forced a smile. “You’ve got me all figured out.”

She studied him for a second. “I didn’t offend you, did I?”

“Of course not.” What she’d said shouldn’t have bothered him. It wouldn’t have, except he was beginning to care what she thought of him. Which was crazy. She’d seen him at his absolute worst. The past year he’d been her client, he’d done everything possible to let her know just how little he cared what she or anyone thought. So how could he expect her to see even a glimmer of something worthy in him now?

“Everyone knows what a shitty person I am,” he added with a shrug. Then he straightened her hanger, stuck a marshmallow on the end and handed it back to her. “But I can roast a mean marshmallow.”

22

Simon didn’t talk much the rest of the evening. He was polite but the casual camaraderie they’d established since coming to Whiskey Creek was gone. Gail hadn’t realized how much she’d enjoyed his companionship until that warmth was replaced with the old indifference.

Accusing him of wanting her only because he couldn’t have her hadn’t seemed like a big deal at the time, but it’d hurt him somehow. She was afraid it kept him from changing, becoming a better person. Every time he tried, every time he started to believe he could, she held up the mirror of his past and reminded him that there was no way to outdistance his deeds, that she’d never forget and therefore he couldn’t, either.

He was probably confused and disappointed. So was she. She didn’t want to send mixed signals. But no one had ever frightened her in quite the same way as Simon O’Neal. Charisma rolled off him in waves. If she let it carry her away, there was no telling where she’d end up.

“You okay?” she said at one point.

“Fine.” He offered her another perfectly roasted marshmallow. But his emotional withdrawal made her feel as if the sun had suddenly disappeared behind a cloud.

Simon dozed off before the movie ended, but Gail lay next to him long after, wide-awake and feeling…she didn’t know what. Remorseful. Conflicted. And attracted. Always attracted.

In the light of the log’s dying embers, she admired the contours of his face while trying to decide how to keep this “marriage” on track. She was supposed to care about Matt. She’d yearned for him for years. The flutter she’d felt in her stomach when she’d seen him earlier had made her wonder what she’d done. Yet she’d scarcely thought of him since their encounter in the coffee shop. As long as Simon was around, nothing else seemed to matter.

But Simon wouldn’t be around forever….

Suddenly he opened his eyes as if her intense regard had dragged him from sleep. She told herself to roll over and pretend she hadn’t been watching him, but she refused to be that much of a coward. Even after his eyes met hers, she continued to stare just as intently and allowed him to do the same.

Finally he broke the silence. “What are you thinking about?”

“You,” she admitted with a sigh.

“Don’t waste your time on that.” He turned over, but she refused to let him exclude her so easily. She put her palm on his back, and when he didn’t move, she slid it up and into his hair. The thick, silky locks felt so good….