Prodigal Son (31 page)

She pulled the jumbled tangle of her jeans into her lap in a belated attempt at modesty as he entered the living room. She didn’t look at him for a moment as he sat beside her on the couch. Then, after a few long, tense seconds, she slid a glance his way out of the corners of her eyes.

He was watching her, a small smile on his mouth, concern in his eyes.

“You okay?” he asked quietly, reaching out to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear.

She nodded. “Yes. You?”

“Yeah.”

They were both silent for a long moment.

“That was probably a mistake, huh?” she said. It wasn’t what she wanted to ask. But she wasn’t stupid. She wasn’t going to make this any more uncomfortable than it already was.

“Depends on your definition. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it. A lot. And that I hadn’t thought about us being together like this.”

She looked at him sharply. Was he saying that even before they’d been considering becoming parents together he’d been attracted to her?

“I thought you saw me as your work buddy.”

“No.”

“So why didn’t you ever…?”

“Because I knew that it couldn’t go anywhere. And I didn’t want to hurt you.”

It was exactly what she’d been telling herself—he’d been crystal clear about his determination to remain single, after all—but it still felt like a slap in the face.

Suddenly it seemed wrong to be sitting half naked in front of him. Way too vulnerable. She fished her tangled panties from the leg of her jeans and stood, pulling her panties on. Then she dragged her jeans up her legs. After a moment’s hesitation, Ethan followed suit.

Only when they were both fully dressed, flies zipped and studs buttoned, did she look at him again.

“For the record, you haven’t hurt me,” she said. “I knew the score. But this wasn’t exactly something I’d planned on happening.”

“Me, either. But the past few weeks have been pretty full-on.”

“Yes.”

“Maybe it was inevitable. With all the donor stuff, all the time we’ve been spending together…”

“Yes.”

She glanced around her apartment. She didn’t know what else to say to him. There wasn’t much more
to
say, when it came down to it. They’d both agreed that it had been a mistake to cross the line and sleep with each other.

She wanted him to go, she realized. They’d made their mistake, now she wanted to shower and go to bed and clear her head for tomorrow. She wanted to be alone.

“I’ll help you clean up.” He started gathering glasses and plates.

“Don’t. I’ll do it in the morning.”

He ignored her, taking the plates into the kitchen. When she heard him clattering around in there she went after him.

“Leave it. Please,” she said.

He was running water into the sink but he flicked the tap off. They stared at each other across her counter.

“I’m going to be really pissed with myself if this has messed things up between us, Alex. That’s the last thing I want,” Ethan said. “I’d hate to think we’d trashed a good friendship for the sake of one bout of crazy-monkey-couch-sex.”

He was trying to make her laugh and she rewarded him with a small smile.

“It’s been a big day. And this was kind of the cherry on top.”

“Yeah. I know.”

He ran a hand through his hair, then sighed deeply. “Okay, then, I’ll bugger off.”

She tried not to look too relieved but she suspected he knew she couldn’t wait to close the door on him.

Well, tough. She was entitled to her reaction. Maybe this sort of thing happened to him all the time, but it was new territory for her.

“Thanks for dinner,” she said at the front door.

Ethan looked down at her, his eyes very dark blue and very serious. “I meant what I said, Alex. Your friendship means a lot to me.”

“Yours, too. To me, I mean.”

He nodded. He hesitated, then he leaned forward and kissed her briefly on the lips.

“Good night.”

“Good night.”

She closed the door on him and stood very still for a long moment. It occurred to her that if they hadn’t used a condom tonight, they might have become parents today after all. But they had. And she’d already decided she didn’t want a child at any cost. She wanted a partner, and a child born of love. A fantasy, perhaps. But she thought it was worth holding out for.

She walked into the living room. The couch sat like a velvet reproach in the middle of the room. She flicked off the light.

She’d brooded enough today. She and Ethan had taken a misstep tonight. That was all it was. She wasn’t any better or worse off as a result of it, and neither was he. And even if things were awkward between them for a few weeks, there was no reason why they couldn’t put this behind them. They were both intelligent adults, after all.

It would be so much better—so much easier—if she could believe her own spin. The truth, painful and embarrassing as it was to admit, was that she had always wanted Ethan as more than a friend. She’d known it was stupid and had pushed her desire and attraction and admiration into a corner and ignored it, but it had still been there and now she knew what it was like to be Ethan’s lover…

He’s not looking for a relationship, Alex. You know this. Don’t set yourself up for a fall.

She’d always been sensible. All her life she’d relied on a strong streak of pragmatism to get her through. Ethan was a bad bet. As long as she kept that fact top of mind, she’d be okay.

She would.

Thoroughly sick of herself, she went to bed.

Chapter Eight

A
lex had tasted like spiced wine and her skin had been warm and smooth and soft. Her breasts… Ethan had always wondered about her breasts. And now he knew. They were full, with small pale pink nipples that puckered up prettily in his mouth and beneath his hands.

Ethan rolled onto his back and punched his pillow into a new shape for the tenth time tonight. He’d been trying to get to sleep for over two hours. He’d come home full of regret, kicking himself for having stepped over the line with Alex, blaming himself for not having enough self-control to catch himself before he’d dropped that single, hard kiss onto her mouth and for not being able to resist the unspoken question in her eyes when she’d looked up at him.

And here he was, lying in bed, unable to banish the memories of those moments on the couch from his mind.

Guilt and desire. A great combo. A perfect antidote for sleep.

Put it out of your mind. It was a one-off. You can’t go there again. There’s no point thinking about it.

Great advice. If only he could stop thinking about the tight clench of her body around his. And the fierceness of her kisses. And the way she’d gasped and held him still inside herself as she’d come, her body bowing off the couch.

He’d denied himself where she was concerned for so long. Kept her at arm’s length. Made her his friend instead of his lover because he’d always known she wanted more from a man than he was prepared to give.

And still he’d slept with her.

He threw back the quilt and rolled out of bed. He was driving himself nuts, going over and over the same ground. He went into the bathroom and ransacked the drawers and various storage baskets beneath the sink until he found a blister pack of sleeping pills left over from his last international trip. He swallowed one then returned to bed to wait for it to kick in.

He should have stayed away from her. He should never have gone over to her place. If he’d hurt her…

He’d make it up to her. He’d do whatever it took to ensure Alex was happy. Because he wanted her to be happy more than anything.

He arrived at work early the next morning. He dumped his briefcase and coat and made his way to her office. He didn’t know what he was going to say to her. He simply wanted to see her. For a few precious minutes last night, they’d been as close as two people could get. He wanted to see her.

She was frowning at a document on her desk when he arrived in her doorway, kneading her brow with her fingertips. She looked tired. As though she’d had as much trouble sleeping as he had.

You did that. You took what you wanted then bailed and you made it impossible for her to sleep.

But she’d wanted him to go. He’d offered to help clean up, but she’d practically ordered him out the door.

“Alex.”

Her head came up. Her brown eyes were guarded as she looked at him. “Hi.”

“You’re in early.”

“Usually am.”

“Yeah.” He’d run out of pleasantries, and all the things he wanted to say were impossible. The silence stretched.

“Um, did you want something?” she asked after a few taut seconds. “Because I’ve got a lot going on.” She indicated the paperwork piled high in her in-tray.

“Just checking in,” he said stupidly.

“Well, I’m fine. Don’t worry, Ethan. I didn’t spend the night embroidering your initials on a handkerchief or anything. I’m a big girl.”

She gave him a smile that didn’t come even close to her eyes. He’d never felt more distant from her.

You’re an idiot. You’ve screwed everything up. You should have kept your freaking hands to yourself.

“Alex…I’m sorry.”

She shook her head. “You don’t need to apologize to me. It takes two to tango, remember? And I did my share of dancing last night.”

He wasn’t apologizing for the sex. He didn’t know how to articulate his regret. She deserved more. He wanted her to have more, but he didn’t have it in him to give.

He searched his mind for the one magical thing he could say that would make everything all right between them again. But he couldn’t turn back time. He couldn’t undo the moment when they’d crossed the line irrevocably from friends to lovers.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” he said.

“Thanks. I’ll see you at the software meeting this afternoon.”

“Right.”

He lifted his hand in farewell and returned to his office. He stopped twice, wanting to go to Alex and have a real conversation with her. Both times he forced himself to keep walking.

He’d been playing house with her for the past few weeks. Pretending to himself that he could have the trappings of a relationship without the commitment and the accompanying risks. Alex wasn’t a game. She was one of the finest women he knew. She deserved better. She certainly deserved better than his
friendship.

* * *

Only when Alex was certain Ethan was gone did Alex let out the breath she’d been holding.

She was proud of herself. She really was. The way she’d held his eye and calmly told him she was a big girl and that she’d done her share of dancing. No way could Ethan have known that she’d barely had a wink of sleep and that when she’d heard his voice this morning her whole body had tensed.

She’d thought she had it covered—that was the worst thing about all of this. She’d thought that she, tough-cookie, no-bull Alex Knight was immune to Ethan’s potent mix of good looks and charm. He might be gorgeous and smart and sexy and funny and kind and generous but she was a survivor. She was too smart to set her sights on him.

Then he’d kissed her and all her lies to herself had been revealed for the tissue-thin excuses they were.

She liked Ethan. A lot. As more than a friend. She wanted him to like her, too. She wanted him to do more than like her. She wanted him to—

She pushed her chair away from her desk.

She’d already made a deal with herself not to dwell on it. She didn’t have time to do the whole unrequited thing. If she was going to have a chance of having the family she wanted, she needed to throw herself into the dating scene, and she needed to do it wholeheartedly.
Whole
heartedly.

She was busy all morning, then she braced herself to spend the afternoon stuck in a small meeting room with Ethan and a handful of other people.

She told herself it wasn’t as bad as she’d thought it might be, sitting opposite him for three hours, listening to his voice, meeting his gaze, laughing at his jokes. She kept her mind on the discussion—only once did it stray, and then only for a few seconds when Ethan raked his hand through his hair and she was reminded of how it had looked last night as he was lying on top of her, pressing her into the couch, stroking in and out of her…

She’d felt herself flushing, the heat rising up her body. She made an excuse to leave the meeting for a few minutes and didn’t come back until she knew she could look him in the eye and not betray herself.

Later that night she made a very pragmatic, very ruthless decision. She needed to stop lying to herself and confront her own reality. If she wasn’t very careful, she was going to slip all of the way into love with Ethan Stone. And that would be a bad, bad thing for a woman in her position. A woman who still held out hope of finding a man to love and have a family with.

Ethan was not that man. All her instincts told her that. He’d told her that, both covertly and overtly.

So. She needed to move on.

Which was why she took a deep breath after dinner and sat at the computer and composed a profile for herself to upload to three of the most popular online dating sites. She chose a picture of herself in a tank top and hiking shorts, looking fit and tanned and happy, and she described herself as smart and funny and looking for a committed relationship. She wrote off the top of her head, and once it was done she posted it straight away, no second-guessing herself.

Like she’d said, moving on.

She did some work she’d brought home, then she watched a couple of episodes of Jon Stewart’s
The Daily Show
that she’d saved. Just before bedtime, she gave in to curiosity and checked her profiles.

It was early days yet, and she probably didn’t have any responses. But if she did, it would be really good to be able to go to bed and think about something other than Ethan.

Ethan smiling. Ethan teasing. Ethan laughing with his nephews. Ethan whispering her name as he made love to her. Ethan standing in her office doorway this morning, his eyes full of questions.

One response would be fine. Just one to get the ball rolling.

To give her options.

She blinked when she saw the double digit next to her profile at the first site. Eleven. She’d had eleven hits in a couple of hours. Wow.

She checked the others. Four at the other site, six at the last one.

How about that. Clearly there were more single men in Melbourne than she thought.

She started working her way through the responses. The first guy looked to be in his fifties, although he gave his age as early forties. Stress could age people, she knew, and he claimed to own his own small business, but she was aware that many people doctored their ages and photos. Plus he had the overdeveloped neck and arms of a man who spent far too much time in the gym. She read his personal statement. He said he was looking for someone young and fun who wasn’t afraid to “get adventurous.”

Next.

Contender number two was wearing a three-piece suit and posing in front of his Ferrari. She ignored all the unkind penis-compensation jokes that popped into her mind and read his profile. HotKarMan was looking for someone who enjoyed the finer things in life. He’d been married three times and had five children. And he was only thirty-five.

Next.

By the time she got to contender number nine, she was slumped in her chair. It was undeniably depressing to realize that the vast majority of men believed that women were more focused on a man’s bank balance and the size of his penis than they were on who he was and what he wanted in life and what he believed in—at least that was the only conclusion she could draw from the profiles she’d received. She’d never seen so many veiled references to
equipment
and
machinery
in her life.

There has to be one decent guy in amongst all these men. Please.

She clicked on profile number ten and read the introductory paragraph. SoloDoc was, not surprisingly, a doctor. He’d been married once, was in his late thirties and was looking for a woman to share his life. She sat a little straighter and leaned toward the screen.

He liked hiking, bike riding and reading biographies. Musically, he favored U2 and Coldplay. He liked to travel. And he’d ticked the box that said he had no problem with prospective matches having children.

She looked at his photograph. He had a slim build and a long face with slightly receding hair. His eyes were kind and intelligent. He was attractive, in a studious way.

She didn’t give herself time to waver. She hit the respond button and typed in a quick greeting. Then she sent it and turned off her computer.

There. She’d done the smart thing. The practical, pragmatic, self-preserving thing.

And maybe one day soon she would be able to look back on the past few intense weeks with Ethan and think fondly of him as a good friend instead of feeling a heavy ache in her chest.

Because she was feeling low she ran herself a bath, even though she knew that the Green lobby would probably string her up if they could see her wasting so much water. She lowered herself into frangipani-scented bubbles and let out a deep sigh.

She felt as though she’d been to the moon and back. So many ups and down. So much hope and disappointment.

She slid deeper into the bath until she was completely submerged. She held her breath for as long as she could, listening to the thud of her heart.

If she could have just one wish…

But it would take more than one wish to right her world.

She pushed her feet against the end of the bath and broke the surface.

Wishes never came true, anyway.

* * *

“Ethan. Wait up.”

Ethan had just exited the building but he stopped and pivoted on his heel, waiting for Alex to catch up. It had been a full week since they’d crossed the line. She was wearing her navy pinstripe suit and her red pumps. Her hair blew across her face and she tucked a strand behind her ear as she stopped in front of him. She looked good. She looked great. As always.

“Have you got a second?” she asked.

He’d been ducking out to pick up a book he’d ordered but he had fifteen minutes before his next client arrived.

“Sure. What’s up?”

Pedestrians streamed around them on busy Collins Street. Alex started to speak but was jostled as two banker-types pushed their way past.

“Watch yourselves,” Ethan called after them, grabbing Alex’s elbow and steering her out of the main flow to where there was less competition per square foot of pavement.

She smiled faintly. “There you go with the manhandling thing again.”

He let her elbow go. “Sorry.”

A few weeks ago he’d have fired something in response, but the ease had gone out of their relationship since that night on Alex’s couch. It had changed things, as he’d known it would.

Shouldn’t have slept with her, moron.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“I need to cancel our game next week,” she said.

Maybe he should have been expecting it, but he wasn’t. In over a year, he and Alex had only missed one Tuesday night, and that was because they’d both been attending a firm function.

“Sure. You want to reschedule for later in the week or skip it altogether?” he asked casually.

What he really wanted to ask was what she was doing, and who she was doing it with. But he didn’t have the right to ask her those kind of things. Now more than ever.

“We could reschedule for Wednesday night, if that suits? Otherwise it’ll have to be a skip—we’ve got the Heart Foundation fundraiser on Monday night, and the rest of the week is looking pretty solid for me, too.”