Page 95 of Suddenly Dating
God, she wanted to kiss him right now. She wanted to kiss him and make love to him, anddammit,why did Melissa have to come to East Beach and ruin it? She thought of Casey’s advice, of telling Harry right now all the mixed-up and utterly undeniable things she was feeling. But Lola couldn’t bring herself to do it in that moment. Harry’s pep talk aside, it was impossible to slough off years of conditioning. She couldn’t face the disappointment of losing him. If not today, then in a month, or even two... however long it took him to realize he’d made a mistake.
She took a breath so deep that it lifted her chest, and sighed it out. She squeezed his hand. “You really are a good friend, Harry.”
The light in Harry’s eyes began to dim. He smiled sadly and let go her hand.
“I guess we’re both rounding third base, aren’t we?” she asked. “One last pretend date tomorrow night?” she asked, referring to the barbecue.
“Yeah,” he said, and pushed a strand of her hair from her face. “One last pretend date.”
Twenty-four
Harry was crunching some numbers, trying to figure out how long he had before he pulled the plug on Westbrook Bridge Design and Construction when Melissa called. “Hey, you answered!” she said cheerfully.
“Hi, Lissa,” he said, rubbing his eyes.
“Guess what? I’m going to be in East Beach tonight.”
He dropped his hand, blinking. “You are?”
“Birta’s agent is coming out for a barbecue or something, and she wants me to come and meet him. Apparently she wasn’t happy with the work Andy did on the publicity for the new book and wants to talk changes.”
“Huh,” Harry said.
“This account is a big deal for me, Harry.”
“Yeah, that’s great,” he said absently as he tried to collect himself. So she would be there tonight, at the barbecue that had been arranged for him. Great.
“Will I see you at the barbecue? Birta said you’d be there.”
Harry tried to think. He desperately needed time with Albert Cantrell, and he didn’t need the complication of Melissa interfering with that plan. Not only that, he was taking Lola. And he didn’t want Melissa interfering with that, either. “I guess,” he said.
“Wow,” she said. “You don’t sound very excited.”
Maybe because he wasn’t. “I wasn’t expecting this. Lissa... I’m taking Lola to the barbecue.”
That was met with dead silence for a moment on the other end. “I guess I see where I stand,” Melissa said at last.
“Please don’t do that,” he said wearily, and leaned back in his chair, scraping his hair back from his face. “You left me, remember? Did you think I’d sit around like a monk?”
“You’re right,” she said, surprisingly contrite. “I know you’re right, Harry, but I’m justsohoping you will give me another chance. I have always loved you.Always. And I think you’ve always loved me.”
This felt so dense on top of everything else on Harry’s mind. He didn’t want to have this conversation with Melissa right now. “I’ll see you tonight, all right?”
Again, the long silence. “Okay,” she said, her voice soft. “Please remember that I love you.” She clicked off.
Funny, wasn’t it, that a few weeks ago, Harry would have been thrilled to hear her say those words, but today they just muddied the waters that seemed to be creeping up to his neck. There had been a part of him that truly had wanted to go back to the way it was with Melissa. To hot nights and fine dining and life in the city. He’d thought he would marry her, would put down roots and grow a family. When exactly had that changed? When had she stopped feeling like a lifemate and had begun to feel like one more thing he had to handle? More than a couple of months ago, he realized.
Harry didn’t have time to think of it now. His fledgling company was in dire straits, and he had to focus on what he’d say to Albert Cantrell tonight.
He managed to block out the world for the afternoon until it was time to shower and dress for the evening.
When he emerged from his room, Lola was waiting, sitting on one of the living room couches, her legs stretched before her and propped on the leather ottoman. “Hi, handsome,” she said, and stood up and smoothed out her dress. She was wearing the yellow halter dress he really liked. She turned her back to him, glanced over her shoulder and said, “Will you help me?”
Harry remembered the first time he’d zipped her up in this dress, he’d been afraid to touch her. This time, he zipped her up, then impulsively put his hands on her shoulders, dipped his head, and kissed her neck.
“Hello?” she said, and turned around, eyeing him suspiciously. “What was that for?” she asked as she slipped her feet into sandals.
Harry smiled. “You’re not the only one who sometimes suffers from lack of impulse control.” He did it because she was beautiful and he missed her. Lola was undeniably sexy, but it was more than that—he was drawn like a moth to light by her spirit. “Ready?” he asked.
