Page 31 of Between the Lines

CHAPTER ELEVEN

THEHOUR-LONGRIDE back to Boston was quiet, the only words exchanged as they picked their way through the picnic that Theo had packed. Actually, he’d ordered it from a popular deli downtown, but he didn’t see why that made any difference. She was too keyed up to eat more than a handful of grapes and a small wedge of smoked cheddar, and he liked that she seemed worked up.

“Where do you live?” As he turned down their street, he realized how little she still knew of his life in the years between. “I can’t imagine you’re staying at the house. It’s been empty since...well, since your dad died.”

“I actually am.” He cast a sidelong glance at her in the growing shadows. Warmer weather was approaching, but the nights were still long and the light was already fading. He liked it—the blueberry tones of twilight seemed to wrap them in a little cocoon, where they could stay as long as they liked. “I stayed away for a while because...well, I just couldn’t handle going through his things yet. Not when I know what a disappointment I was to him.”

“You didn’t come to his funeral.” There was no judgment in her words.

“I did, actually,” he admitted, pulling the Jag into the long driveway that led to the stately mansion. Jo gaped at him as he put it into Park and turned to face her.

“Why didn’t I see you there?” A spark of anger licked at her words, and he knew he deserved it.

“I made sure you didn’t,” he replied simply, shrugging. “I wasn’t ready.”

“Ready for what, for the love of God?” She threw her hands in the air.

“I wasn’t yet the person I’d gone away to become.” He watched her steadily as she seemed to mull that over. He knew she had questions—she’d always displayed every single thing that she thought on her face without a filter.

“Have you been back in Boston since then?” she asked carefully.

“No.” He wanted to reach for her, to touch her, but wasn’t sure she’d welcome it right then. “No, I came back just for the funeral. I was in New York then. Had been for a few years. I only moved back to Boston a couple of months ago, when I opened the Crossing Lines office here. I stayed at the Boston Plaza until this week.”

“Until you were ready to let me know you were back?” She seemed to chew on that. He held his breath, wondering what she was going to ask next. “Is Crossing Lines that new of a company?”

“Yes and no.” He thought back, pulling up the details. “It’s been in the works for a few years. I didn’t want to use my dad’s money for it, so I had to raise funds, which took a while. Then there was the programming, structuring the company. I didn’t move the offices to Boston until we were officially open. Some of the staff came with me, which made me happy. I’m trying to instill a certain kind of corporate culture, one that treats its employees right and makes them happy, because I think that happiness will filter down to the users of the site.”

“Was Ava one of the employees who moved with you?” Theo studied her face as she asked. He didn’t see jealousy, but there was a hint of possessiveness that made him want to drag her into the house and claim her, caveman style.

“She was.” He didn’t feel guilty about anything he’d done with Ava—he assumed that Jo had had lovers over the years, as well. “But we were never together romantically. It was just sex.”

Not even that great of sex, either, but he didn’t think that Jo needed any details—at least, any more detail than what she’d already seen with her own eyes.

She nodded, appearing to accept that, but then pinned him with an intense look. “I don’t care what you’ve done when we were apart. But I’m not comfortable with you being with other women while we’re...while we’re doing whatever we’re going to do.”

“Say it.” He savored the spark that lit her eyes. “Say what you want me to do to you.”

“I want you to fuck me.” Her voice was quiet, but sure. His girl had always known what she wanted before she reached out and took it. “Only you.”

Taking her chin in his hand, he tilted her head so that she was sitting up perfectly straight, his hand on her skin their only point of contact. “You don’t want to see what I’d do to any other man who touches you.”

“While we’re together,” she added, expression daring him to argue.

He smiled grimly. “We’ll see.”

Leaving her frowning over that, he exited the car, circling round the back so that he could open her door for her. He helped her out, hooking his suit jacket—now only slightly damp—over her to protect her from the relentless drizzle that was still coming down.

He led her through the front door, closing it behind them. The door was old, like the rest of the house made of heavy wood. The sound of it closing was satisfying, solid, and Theo again had the sense that they were being wrapped in a cocoon that was all their own.

“Do you want a refresher tour?” he asked quietly, watching as she looked around, those keen writer eyes taking in every detail. “It’s been a long time.”

She turned her attention from the heavy, dated crystal chandelier overhead to him, and his heart skipped a beat when he saw the decision in her eyes.

“No.” She inhaled softly, pulling his suit jacket off and holding it back out to him. “I just want to see your room.”

If he touched her, they wouldn’t make it to his room. Hanging his jacket carelessly on the post of the banister, he followed her upstairs, stopping her when she tried to turn into his old room.

“I’ve moved.” With a jerk of his chin, he pointed her in the direction of the master suite. “Over here.”

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