Ethan (California Dreamy) Page 10

  “This feels like a first date,” she said and watched his face change. She expected a frown, perhaps a return to the grim countenance she often encountered when challenging him. Instead, he laughed, showing off strong teeth and that damn dimple that teased her.

  “Hmmm, four nights of surfing, one dinner out, two barbecues, take-out and too many hours spent dissecting my heart—we’re way beyond a first date,” he informed her.

  “But we’re not dating,” she reminded him.

  “Okay, if we were dating then.”

  The shack, tacos, and afterward searing sex, the memory of which curled her toes. And a lot of hot moments since. She tried not to think about them. Tried to deny the momentum each outing had added toward something deeper.

  “You don’t date,” she pointed out. “Remember, the futility. . .?”

  He shook his head. “Doesn’t apply here.”

  “Why?”

  “What’s been happening with us isn’t even remotely surface level.”

  She nodded. “But our situation is different.”

  “True. But take the screenplay out of the equation, and we still have. . .something.”

  That didn’t sound very promising. The chicken pox were something. So was the Titanic.

  “Dating in the past was an act of diversion, escape,” he admitted.

  “From what?”

  “Loneliness. Thinking.”

  “And whenever a woman got too close—?”

  “They never got more than skin-deep.”

  “You left.”

  He shrugged. “I wasn’t ready to look at my past or how it fucked with my present.”

  “But you are now.”

  “I was ready before I met you,” he pointed out and Shae nodded. He’d been working on it long before she’d arrived on the scene. Stevie was right about that—Ethan was tenacious. He wouldn’t be satisfied until he’d turned over every stone, examined each moment of his marriage up close, and drew accurate conclusions.

  “Stevie warned me that you were determined and never gave up.”

  “I wallowed for a while,” he admitted. “But it’s always better to know your enemy.”

  “Even when it’s yourself?”

  “Especially then.”

  The waiter passed by their table again and Shae dropped her menu, not having done more than glance at it. She ordered the sea bass. Ethan ordered the steak and suggested they share so they would have surf and turf.

  “You’re almost there,” she said, picking up their conversation when the waiter left.

  “There’s more you need to know,” he told her.

  Shae knew as much, and she was curious about a few things. “Have you written the ending?”

  Ethan shook his head. “Not possible,” he said. “I haven’t lived it yet. The story won’t end with me muddling around in the dark.”

  “Where’s the victory in that?”

  “Exactly.”

  He pulled off his beer and Shae watched his Adam’s apple move as he drank.

  “For not having known each other until a week ago, our lives have some common parallels.”

  “How so?”

  “We worked for what we have, sometimes knocking on the same doors.” Stevie for one. “You lived out of your van; I crashed wherever I found an empty couch. Our first big contracts were for the same production company.”

  “You did your research.” She was surprised he knew so much about her.

  “Of course,” he returned.

  Because he was going to trust her with a lot, and for a man who trusted little and asked for even less, research was required.

  “I didn’t have that luxury,” Shae returned. “In fact, I had about ten minutes.”

  Ethan chuckled. “Stevie has a way of getting what he wants, doesn’t he?”

  “He’s loyal to all of his talent,” Shae pointed out. “So what did you do, bribe him?”

  “Didn’t have to. I told him I really needed you. That you were perfect for the kind of help I was looking for.” His face grew serious as he thought about that. “He tried to tell me to forget it. That you wouldn’t be interested. That you didn’t work that way. You were a solo artist, original work, and all that. He told me you had other things going on.”

  “All true.”

  “So why did you agree to come?”

  “Stevie asked me to.” That was her biggest reason. “But I wanted to give something back to my community, too. I haven’t done that before.”

  “UCLA—you said you were a guest speaker in their writer’s program.”

  “I don’t know how successful that was. I wanted to inspire, but I don’t think anyone wanted to hear about how hard work and marginal living conditions are part of the journey to success.”

  “Did you want to hear that when you were first starting out?”

  “No. But it’s the reality. For most of us.”

  “I think, other than talent, the common denominator with all the success stories is determination. We never gave up.”

  That was probably her strongest character trait and the one she relied on most to get her where she wanted to be. “That’s probably more important than talent.”

  “Agreed. I can think of several examples of mediocre work that reached the top.”

  “And many examples of greatness that waited far too long to see the light.”

  “And usually dragged into the light by someone other than the original artist.”

  “True.”

  “So, why are you giving up, Shae?”

  That made her pause. And though his words were soft, they were no less an accusation.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You want that partnership. The kind of love your parents have,” he prompted. “But you’re settling for less.”

  “Because I’m having the baby first?”

  “Is that the way you look at it? You think the relationship will come later?”

  “I hope it will.”

  “So in the meantime, you check off a few boxes, place your order, and nine months later you have a baby?”

  “It’s done a lot more than you think.”

  “I know. It just seems out of character for you—to give up, I mean.”

  “I told you, I tried. I’d hoped to get married. . .”

  “Really? I’ve heard about one relationship. That’s not a whole lot of trying.”

  “Who are you, Dear Sally?”

  “I’m prying,” he admitted but didn’t seem to care. “But you’re doing more than that in my life.”

  “At your invitation.” She heard the outrage building in her tone.

  “Have you spoken with anyone about this?” he continued. “Gotten any feedback from friends or family?”

  “This is a personal decision.”

  “And monumental,” he agreed. “Not something you should go into without thinking about all the implications.”

  “Such as?” She felt overheated and was sure color had risen to her cheeks. And, belatedly, she realized she’d just invited him into the most private area of her life.

  “Conception without relation is a cold prospect. There’s got to be a lot of loneliness in that—and I know loneliness, Shae. You’re looking at nine months with no one to hold your hand, or offer words of encouragement. Probably not how you imagined your pregnancy would be. And what will you tell your kid, when he’s old enough to ask, ‘Daddy was on page nineteen of See Men Magazine?”

  The comment hurt. For a moment, she was incapable of a reply. She’d opened her mouth. She had asked. And she’d gotten his take on the situation. But Ethan was a traditionalist, she reminded herself. And she was anything but.

  “Why do you care?”

  “You should have it all, Shae. Everything you want. Don’t you think so?”

  Well, of course she did. But it hadn’t worked out that way.

  “You don’t understand.”

  “Why? Because I don’t have a vagina?”
<
br />   “Yes. Exactly. Or the biological clock attached to it. You don’t feel each sweep of the second hand or wake up in the middle of the night. . .wanting. . .”

  “You’re right about all of that, except that last part. I do wake up. I do want.” He reached across the table and covered her hand with his own. “I want you.”

  “And my baby plans are getting in your way?”

  He sat back. “Yes,” he returned.

  Chapter Twelve

  Ethan paced in front of the glass doors. Outside, the sun was muted by a bank of clouds that had rolled in off the Pacific. The wind had kicked up, too. It wasn’t uncommon to have a few squalls kick off autumn in this region of California, and it looked like they were going to get a real doozy. He paused long enough to watch a handful of butterflies swirl in the air, more frenzy than the sloping sawing they usually did. The surface of the lap pool rippled. He wondered if Shae had looked up from her reading long enough to notice the change in weather.

  They wouldn’t be surfing that evening.

  They had fallen into a pattern the past four days. Shae read while Ethan tried to focus on possible upcoming projects. About three o’clock, she called it a day and they hit the beach. Later, over dinner, she posed some questions that made Ethan feel like he was treading water in a monsoon. She was tenacious and never let him off the hook. She was patient, and reworded questions until Ethan finally caved and really looked at the “scene,” as she called them. After she’d received answers she was happy with—and Ethan was, too—they allowed passion to take over, and the steamy glances and electric attraction that snapped between them all day was exorcised in the most intense sex he’d ever had.

  That wouldn’t be happening tonight, either. Not as it usually unfolded.

  More than he dreaded her digging into him after today’s reading session—her questions always seemed to pare away a layer of his skin—he dreaded telling her that this evening would be different.

  They would have company.

  And he resented it. The past four days had been perfect. Even the digging. He was making strides in figuring himself out—in fact, he knew it was fear that kept him from engaging deeply with a woman and that the fear was connected to betrayal and responsibility. He’d accepted that he had been less than perfect in his marriage, especially towards the end, during his second tour of duty in the Middle East, when his emails and phone calls to Tina had all but stopped, and following his return, when he’d been unable to shake the feeling of eminent danger and relax back into his “normal” life. He’d alienated her.

  He expected today’s questions to delve into Tina’s affair and his role in its happening. He was ready to take a look at it. He’d been pushing back feelings of righteousness, of betrayal, of macho pride all day.

  And now this. A phone call from his mom. He still held his cell phone in hand, the warmth pressing into his palm. He tossed it onto his bed, into the rumpled sheets where just hours ago he’d taken Shae in a glorious moment of mutual need.

  Damn, just thinking of the woman made his dick hard. Her satisfied smile really tore through him. Shae knew how to give, and not just by touch, but to really invite him in and let him see what his touch did to her. There was incredible vulnerability in that. It was breathtaking. It was powerful. It made him feel like a god. But it was double-duty. It left Shae exposed and she demanded the same from him. She prodded him into uncharted territory-and he’d loved every moment of exploration. And yet there was still an innocence about Shae as she guided them to heights before unexperienced—as though she too were surprised by both their discovery and their reaction to it.

  They were learning about each other, but also new things about themselves. And that was exhilarating.

  He checked the clock on the nightstand. Two-forty-three. He didn’t think they would have time for their usual Q and A. Not with the depth that Shae demanded and Ethan needed to experience. And he didn’t want to expose himself emotionally without following it up with the physical closeness that had been like a salve to burned skin.

  He had told his mother no, but knew the family would arrive, a huddled mass intent on comforting him and providing support. Eva told them he’d been dealing with Tina.

  Ethan appreciated their concern. But now wasn’t the time.

  He didn’t want to think about an evening without Shae in his arms, without them tumbling around on his bed. Without discovering the creative ways they could make each other come with the ferocity of a shooting star.

  He fell backwards into memory. Her smell. He loved burying his face in her intimate folds, lapping her juices, sucking her clit until her thighs clenched around his head and she arched in trembling need and came in a flood. But her smell, that drove him crazy. Put the heat in his blood, made him plunge his tongue as deeply into her depths as he could to reach and stroke that hidden pearl. Damn. She was so soft and ripe. Small. She made him feel a little he-manish. But she accepted him. All of him, no problem.

  Seven and a quarter inches in length—because when he was a stupid adolescent he’d done what they all did and measured himself while fully erect—more than five full inches around. He’d spent days turning himself into a geometric equation. Tina had figured him out quickly and he smiled at the memory. They had been classic—the smart, mature girl and the athletic, sophomoric guy. He wondered if age had been an equal culprit in their demise—while Ethan was away they’d grown apart in so many ways. Maybe they grew into the adults they were always meant to be. But then what had caused Tina to give it all up, to cash in? It didn’t make sense to him. Tina had been more self-involved than altruistic. It couldn’t have been recrimination for acts of betrayal.

  He sat down on the edge of the bed where Shae’s scent was still thick. Shae. She was totally different from Tina. Shae was compassionate; she was courageous, constantly putting herself out there. He wanted to protect her in ways he’d never felt called to do for Tina. He wanted to please her more than he wanted his next breath.

  And so, yes, dammit, he was developing feelings for Shae.

  And the fear that had kept him from true intimacy in the past plucked now at his pulse, made it beat heavily in his temples so that he felt a headache forming. It made his breath shallow. His palms itch. All common symptoms of an adrenalin rush, which fear could produce as easily as ecstasy.

  He’d felt it before, and every time cut out before he could follow the relationship to its natural conclusion. But he’d never arrived at this point so quickly, or felt it so strongly.

  That was his cue to leave.

  Yet he didn’t want to.

  The realization made his throat heavy and swallowing was difficult. He curled his hands into the sheets and tried to steady himself. The damn room seemed to pitch sharply away from

  him.

  If he stood he knew he’d feel like he was sliding across the face of the earth. He’d probably fall on his ass if he tried to get up and go to her now.

  And what could he offer her? Shae had plans and he had no part in them. She’d made that clear at dinner last night. And asking her to put the brakes on her dream without offering her promises in return was unfair and not something Shae was likely to chance.

  Stuck, that was how he felt.

  Ethan found her curled up on a big pillow in a corner of the office. Streamers of muted sunshine fell through the blinds and created an amber glow off the wood flooring. Shae looked up, then looked at the time in the corner bar of the Tablet. Three-twenty. She’d gotten caught up in a particularly raw section of writing that was all about physical battle but mirrored the struggle that was going on inside Ethan at that time. He was outside a desert camp in Lake Leatherneck, Afghanistan. Insurgents were sending a steady volley of missiles and gunfire their way and Ethan and his buddies were scrambling on their bellies, having been rousted from their surveillance posts. The thoughts going through Ethan’s mind were rooted in home when they should have been tuned into saving his life. His marriage was in trouble; he�
��d known it, but didn’t know what to do about it from seven thousand miles away. He doubted his heart, which he suspected was apathetic toward the situation. He’d gone so far as to state that he could go either way—ask her to stay and work on the widening gap between them, or watch her leave.

  There were no indications of betrayal yet. Shae knew because Ethan had told her, but in today’s reading he had laid out suspicion.

  She set the Tablet aside and stretched out her arms and legs.

  “You’re looking very serious,” she said. He wore a distant expression on his face. She hadn’t seen that since day one. “What’s up?”

  “You read about Camp Leatherneck today,” he said.

  She nodded. “I saw a lot of what wasn’t on the page, too.”

  “We were under a barrage of gunfire—” he began.

  “I know, but the real battle waged inside you.”

  He smiled. “I knew you wouldn’t let me off the hook.”

  “I haven’t all week,” she agreed. “I think you were planning to leave Tina.”

  She surprised him. It was in his arched brows, in the parting of his lips. “Where did you get that from?”

  “You could ‘go either way,’” she quoted. “But you’re a man of action, Ethan. I think you were at a point in your life—not just your marriage—where you realized things weren’t working. The military wasn’t what you’d hoped it would be. You were running out of fight and idealism had taken a turn through the shredder. You were doubting Tina’s commitment to you—her packages stopped coming, her e-mail replies were taking longer and were filled with ‘impersonal chatter.’”

  “Everything was fucked,” he agreed.

  “And you didn’t have the heart to try and fix what you suspected had no life left in it.”

  “But she was waiting for me,” Ethan said.

  “Was she?”

  “I thought so.”

  “But you found out differently,” she insisted.

  “I didn’t know that then.”

  “And so you should have been a better husband.”