“Suzanne, are you planning on standing in the hallway all night staring at me? Or are you coming in?”
Part II
Six Weeks Later
16
If he kept his eyes closed and she didn’t talk, he could probably go through with it. His hand slid under her silk blouse and stroked the soft skin of her stomach. His lips moved from her mouth to her neck while her hands roamed down his chest. With his eyes shut tight, his body started to respond to the press of her hips against his and the warmth of her curves. She released an amorous sigh as he started to push her skirt up.
“This might be more comfortable in my bed, Wesley.”
Wesley exhaled and opened his eyes. One sentence from her and the moment shattered. He shouldn’t have stopped kissing her mouth. Then she wouldn’t have been able to talk.
Sitting up in the backseat of his car, he ran his hands through his hair, and rubbed his forehead.
“What’s wrong?” Bridget asked as she tugged her skirt back down. “You didn’t have to stop. Just saying we should probably finish somewhere other than in the car.”
“I’m sorry. I’m just…” Wesley didn’t finish the sentence as he could think of no true words that wouldn’t hurt her feelings.
“Just what?”
He heard the edge in her voice and sighed.
“Just…not ready.”
As he knew they would, the words not ready inspired an eye roll and an unhappy crossing of her arms over her chest.
“Wes, we’ve been going out for two months. Two months. My last boyfriend and I had sex our second date. You and me? Two months and you won’t even let me touch you.”
“I like taking things slow. I’m…” He stopped and considered telling her the whole truth. But the whole truth would involve talking about certain things—and one certain person—he had zero desire to talk about. “Old-fashioned.”
“Old-fashioned. All right. I can accept that. Maybe. Can you at least give me an idea when an old-fashioned type like you would be ready to have sex with his girlfriend?”
He turned his head and gazed at Bridget. Such a beautiful woman—dark hair with blond highlights, tall and slender, a stunner, as his dad would say; a stunner seven years older than him.
“You’re Dad’s secretary. I think it’s a bad idea for us to be involved.” A lame excuse. His Dad had been thrilled to see him and Bridget flirting. He’d practically ordered Wesley to ask her out.
“If that’s what it is, then break up with me and get it over with. Stop screwing around with my feelings.”
Break up? For some reason those two words that he should have dreaded sounded not like a death knell to him but like freedom. Break up—maybe they should.
“Okay,” he said, nodding.
“Okay what?”
“Okay, we’ll break up. You’re right. I’m an ass for being like this. It’s complicated and I don’t really want to go into it. But you’re totally right.”
Bridget’s brown eyes widened.
“I didn’t say I wanted us to break up. I only meant—”
“Then why—”
“Why are you being like this?” she demanded. “We’re good together. At least I thought we were.”
“But you complain the entire time about us not moving fast enough. Obviously you don’t think we’re good together.”
“I think we could be. Wes…” She held up her empty hands.
His stomach clenched into a tight fist of guilt. If Bridget felt even a fraction of the misery he felt that day that Nora—
No. He wasn’t going to think about Nora. He’d gone all day without thinking of Nora and he wasn’t about to let her creep back into his thoughts. He and Bridget and their problems had nothing to do with Nora or what he felt for her. Felt—past tense.
“Can we—” he began and stopped. He’d meant to say, Can we talk about this tomorrow? But he knew he had to go through with it, get it over with. Bridget at least deserved the truth. Not the truth that he was still a virgin. That wasn’t why he couldn’t go through with it with her. That might even be the least of all the reasons.
“Can we what?”
Wesley took a deep, steadying breath and met Bridget’s eyes through the dark.
“I’m in love with someone else. And I can’t have sex with you because I’ll be thinking about her the entire time, and you don’t deserve that.”
For a long time Bridget said nothing. She didn’t even look at him.
“Who?” She finally spoke.
Wesley laughed then, a miserable, tired laugh.
“Ever heard of Nora Sutherlin?”
Bridget’s jaw dropped. “That crazy writer?”
Wesley nodded. She stared at him a long moment before shaking her head and throwing open the car door.
“Dump me if you want to dump me.” She grabbed her purse from the front seat. “But at least be man enough to tell me the truth.”
Bridget’s high heels clicked across the concrete the short distance from her driveway to her house. He heard her screen door open and fling itself shut. Wesley crawled from the backseat into the front of his father’s spacious Cadillac and turned the car on. Taking Versailles Road he headed out toward the farm. He hated this drive at night. Too long, too dull, too easy to let his mind wander places it didn’t need to go. The small castle some weirdo had built his wife twenty years ago constituted about the only thing of interest on this stretch of road. Wes glanced at the castle on the right. Yeah, still there. He kept driving.
Part II
Six Weeks Later
16
If he kept his eyes closed and she didn’t talk, he could probably go through with it. His hand slid under her silk blouse and stroked the soft skin of her stomach. His lips moved from her mouth to her neck while her hands roamed down his chest. With his eyes shut tight, his body started to respond to the press of her hips against his and the warmth of her curves. She released an amorous sigh as he started to push her skirt up.
“This might be more comfortable in my bed, Wesley.”
Wesley exhaled and opened his eyes. One sentence from her and the moment shattered. He shouldn’t have stopped kissing her mouth. Then she wouldn’t have been able to talk.
Sitting up in the backseat of his car, he ran his hands through his hair, and rubbed his forehead.
“What’s wrong?” Bridget asked as she tugged her skirt back down. “You didn’t have to stop. Just saying we should probably finish somewhere other than in the car.”
“I’m sorry. I’m just…” Wesley didn’t finish the sentence as he could think of no true words that wouldn’t hurt her feelings.
“Just what?”
He heard the edge in her voice and sighed.
“Just…not ready.”
As he knew they would, the words not ready inspired an eye roll and an unhappy crossing of her arms over her chest.
“Wes, we’ve been going out for two months. Two months. My last boyfriend and I had sex our second date. You and me? Two months and you won’t even let me touch you.”
“I like taking things slow. I’m…” He stopped and considered telling her the whole truth. But the whole truth would involve talking about certain things—and one certain person—he had zero desire to talk about. “Old-fashioned.”
“Old-fashioned. All right. I can accept that. Maybe. Can you at least give me an idea when an old-fashioned type like you would be ready to have sex with his girlfriend?”
He turned his head and gazed at Bridget. Such a beautiful woman—dark hair with blond highlights, tall and slender, a stunner, as his dad would say; a stunner seven years older than him.
“You’re Dad’s secretary. I think it’s a bad idea for us to be involved.” A lame excuse. His Dad had been thrilled to see him and Bridget flirting. He’d practically ordered Wesley to ask her out.
“If that’s what it is, then break up with me and get it over with. Stop screwing around with my feelings.”
Break up? For some reason those two words that he should have dreaded sounded not like a death knell to him but like freedom. Break up—maybe they should.
“Okay,” he said, nodding.
“Okay what?”
“Okay, we’ll break up. You’re right. I’m an ass for being like this. It’s complicated and I don’t really want to go into it. But you’re totally right.”
Bridget’s brown eyes widened.
“I didn’t say I wanted us to break up. I only meant—”
“Then why—”
“Why are you being like this?” she demanded. “We’re good together. At least I thought we were.”
“But you complain the entire time about us not moving fast enough. Obviously you don’t think we’re good together.”
“I think we could be. Wes…” She held up her empty hands.
His stomach clenched into a tight fist of guilt. If Bridget felt even a fraction of the misery he felt that day that Nora—
No. He wasn’t going to think about Nora. He’d gone all day without thinking of Nora and he wasn’t about to let her creep back into his thoughts. He and Bridget and their problems had nothing to do with Nora or what he felt for her. Felt—past tense.
“Can we—” he began and stopped. He’d meant to say, Can we talk about this tomorrow? But he knew he had to go through with it, get it over with. Bridget at least deserved the truth. Not the truth that he was still a virgin. That wasn’t why he couldn’t go through with it with her. That might even be the least of all the reasons.
“Can we what?”
Wesley took a deep, steadying breath and met Bridget’s eyes through the dark.
“I’m in love with someone else. And I can’t have sex with you because I’ll be thinking about her the entire time, and you don’t deserve that.”
For a long time Bridget said nothing. She didn’t even look at him.
“Who?” She finally spoke.
Wesley laughed then, a miserable, tired laugh.
“Ever heard of Nora Sutherlin?”
Bridget’s jaw dropped. “That crazy writer?”
Wesley nodded. She stared at him a long moment before shaking her head and throwing open the car door.
“Dump me if you want to dump me.” She grabbed her purse from the front seat. “But at least be man enough to tell me the truth.”
Bridget’s high heels clicked across the concrete the short distance from her driveway to her house. He heard her screen door open and fling itself shut. Wesley crawled from the backseat into the front of his father’s spacious Cadillac and turned the car on. Taking Versailles Road he headed out toward the farm. He hated this drive at night. Too long, too dull, too easy to let his mind wander places it didn’t need to go. The small castle some weirdo had built his wife twenty years ago constituted about the only thing of interest on this stretch of road. Wes glanced at the castle on the right. Yeah, still there. He kept driving.
