Angel Falls (Angel Falls Series, #1), Babette Jongh [books for 6 year olds to read themselves .TXT] 📗

Whipping the sweatshirt off over my head, I tossed it aside and skimmed sweats, panties, and socks down in one smooth stroke. Enjoying his widened eyes and the slight flare of his nostrils, I stood before him naked. “Maybe I should go like this?”

He grinned. “I doubt we’d get far.”

“Go wait in the living room while I take a shower.”

I took the quickest cold shower in the history of the world. I had used up all the hot water doing laundry, but the cold water didn’t dampen my mixed emotions. Crackling with energy, desperate hope, and sexual excitement, I drew the black dress on over my wet head and stepped into the sexiest black pumps I owned.

I stuffed the panties I wasn’t wearing, the hairbrush I’d just used, and a change of clothes into the duffel. Yanking open my pajama drawer, I added a peach-colored silk-and-lace nightgown. Tromping into the bathroom, I grabbed the still-packed toiletry bag and shoved it on top, then zipped the whole thing up.

“I’m ready.” I threw the words out like the challenge they were.

“Good.” Ian took the duffel. “So am I.”

“We are not having sex again.” I took a shawl from the hall closet and settled it over my shoulders, then let it slide provocatively down on one side. “I don’t sleep with anyone unless there’s the possibility of a permanent relationship.” I hoped he would go crazy, knowing he had no chance of getting into my panties.

Especially when he found out I wasn’t wearing any.

“Fine.” He set the duffel by front door. Lizzie slinked forward inquiringly, and Ian stroked her head. “Sorry, girl. You don’t get to come this time.” He flicked an authoritative glance my way. “I’ve filled both food dispensers and put out fresh water. Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Let’s go.”

Why did I let Ian get away with his high-handed manner? Why did I go along with his plans without knowing what they were?

Part of it was curiosity. Part of it was the still-living hope that he would change his mind about leaving and give our relationship a real chance. Most of all, I had to trust him—even though I didn’t, quite. Every plus had a built-in minus, every minus had a plus. He had baggage that might prevent him from chancing a permanent relationship, but he was struggling with the decision. He might balk at any time, but he wouldn’t hurt me on purpose.

I settled into the passenger seat and fastened my seatbelt. Ian stowed my duffel in the trunk. He drove out of town on Highway Eighty, which meant he wasn’t taking me to his house. It would be a hotel in Tuscaloosa. Maybe dinner and a movie. I’d been hoping to see the new Bradley Cooper movie sometime this week.

I took Ian’s CD case from the glove box, and slid an Enya CD into the player. The words to the song about love and choices and uncertainty cut so close, I turned the volume down. “Ian, what are we doing?”

He glanced my way. “I wish I knew.”

I’d been talking about more immediate plans—Bradley Cooper or Brad Pitt—but since Ian had opened the door to a more in-depth conversation, I decided to go with it. “What do you want from me?”

He reached across the console and caressed my thigh. “I want a chance.”

I made a small sound of frustration. “A chance at what? Can you be specific? Exactly what do you want from our relationship? Do we even have one?”

“Of course, we do.” He sounded offended, but wrapped his fingers around mine. “How can you imply we don’t?”

“It’s easy. If we had a relationship, you’d tell me important shit like the fact that you fucking well planned to leave here.”

He lifted our clasped hands and ran his knuckle down my cheek. “Did you realize you curse whenever you feel threatened?”

I tugged my hand from his grasp. “Don’t think you can change the subject.”

He sighed and put his hand back on the steering wheel. “Okay. You want me to tell you what I expect from our relationship.”

“Yes.” I laced my fingers together in my lap to keep from touching him.

“I came here for business. Period. I wasn’t looking to meet someone I’d want to spend my life with.”

My heart kicked at those words.

“But then I met you.”

I didn’t say anything, didn’t even look his way, because it took every ounce of energy to sit and listen to what he was saying without trying to guide his words.

“I have to admit that I don’t know whether I’ll ever want to get married again.”

I swallowed my disappointment. “Okay. Well. Thanks for being honest.”

He reached for my hand, but I kept my fingers clamped tight together and he had to settle for putting his hand on top of mine. “Casey, you have to understand. Maeve and I had the perfect relationship. Then we got married, and it all went to hell. It was hell. For both of us. We made each other miserable, and ultimately our decision to marry killed her. Can’t you see why this is hard for me?”

“I’m not Maeve.” My tone was wooden. I wanted to call Ian a coward for not wanting to try again. I wanted to lash out because his fears were more important than our love.

But neither of us had said yet that we loved each other. So maybe that was the problem. If he loved me, he’d take the chance. He wanted me, but a wide gulf stood between wanting and loving. A gulf he might never cross.

“I know you’re not Maeve.” He squeezed my clenched fists with his long fingers. “But I’m still the same—”

“Are you sure?” I chanced a look at his face. Sunlight through the windshield made his amber eyes sparkle though his expression was serious.

He shrugged but didn’t answer.

“Maybe you’re not the same man now that you were then. You just don’t realize it yet.”

His lips quirked up on one side, into an almost-smile. “Maybe.”

God, he was so sexy and handsome, I almost