“Isn’t it?” His grin is wicked. “You want him to beg. Anything less and he’ll keep running back and forth, never fully choosing. He has to feel what it’s like to really lose you.”
I’m not sure I agree, but the conviction in his voice is oddly reassuring. And for now, I decide to go with it, because what else can I do? Go and throw myself at George’s feet like a prized offering, because I’m pretty sure I’ve done that already, and been roundly rejected.
So… we drink, we laugh.
And as the night goes on, we dance.
Rhett is an easy partner, confident without being overbearing, his hand steady at my waist, his smile seductive. Somewhere between the third and fourth glass of wine as we spin around the dance floor, which is Claudia’s spacious lounge with the furniture pushed to the sides, I realize I haven’t thought about George in half an hour. Not once. And I don’t think I would be thinking of him now if it wasn’t for the fact that I can see him approaching us. He reaches us, his face taut, and he asks Rhett if he can cut in. I’m startled by a tiny twinge of disappointment when Rhett steps back with a stiff nod.
George pulls me close, his palm warm against my back, the masculine scent of his cologne achingly familiar.
“Pippa, I meant what I said. I’m … confused. I can’t stop thinking about you. Maybe we should …”
“No.” The word slips out before I can soften it. I hear Rhett’s earlier advice echoing in my head, and I run with it. “Actually, I can’t. I’m going to New York next weekend.”
His eyes bulge. “New York?”
“Yes.” I smile sweetly, though on the inside, my pulse is hammering. “I’m going to a wedding with Rhett.”
The flash of hurt that crosses his face is almost too satisfying. For once, I feel like I’m in control. Before the moment can stretch into something more, Rhett returns, his hand warm on my waist.
“Mind if I steal her back?” he asks.
It’s a question, but something in his tone tells me that if George says no, he’s taking me back anyway. George’s jaw ticks, but he steps aside. I think he probably felt the same thing I did, and didn’t want to get his ass handed to him.
Rhett pulls me close again. The music swells, and before I can brace myself, his mouth is on mine once again.
His kiss is softer this time, slower, but that makes it no less devastating. My lips part instinctively, my heart somersaulting as heat coils low in my belly. The room, the party, even George, all of it disappears, melting away on an imagined breeze. There is only Rhett and I, his body steady and consuming, balancing out the way his kiss makes me feel. Like I’m falling off the edge of an abyss.
When we break apart, I’m breathless. I don’t even bother glancing at George. For the first time tonight, he doesn’t matter. Because at this moment, I only have eyes for Rhett.
Chapter Seventeen
Pippa
The shrill ring of my phone slices through my morning haze, and for once, I’m grateful for the sound. I’ve been staring at my ceiling for far too long, replaying last night in maddening loops, the music, the dancing, George’s furrowed brow and his confusion about whether he wants me or Claudia, Rhett’s smile when he kissed me and made the rest of the world fade.
I scramble for the phone, hoping it’s Lucy so I can vent, but the screen flashes with Rhett’s name. My pulse does a strange little jump.
“Morning,” he says. It’s too early for his voice to sound like velvet poured straight into my ear, but it does anyway.
“Morning,” I echo, trying to sound breezy like I’m not still in bed with memories of last night keeping me company and driving me crazy in equal measures. “I wasn’t expecting you to call so soon. Should I be flattered?”
“You should always be flattered when I call,” he says dryly, then he sighs. “Something’s come up with work back at the New York office. I need to fly back today.”
The words hit like a slap, sharp and unexpected. “Oh.”
“Oh?” he repeats, like he’s trying to measure my disappointment level.
I sit up, clutching the sheet around me even though no one can see me. “I’m just surprised that’s all.”
“Yeah, me too,” he says. He pauses, then his voice softens. “I don’t want to cut things short with you, Pippa. So, here’s the question: do you want to come now with me, or would you rather fly out later in the week on your own?” There’s an undercurrent of something almost businesslike in his tone.
My head jerks back. “Come with you? To New York?”
“Yes. You’d be coming out for the wedding in a few days anyway, and you said yourself that you can work from anywhere. Plus, if you come now, I’ll get the chance to return the sightseeing favor. I still owe you for the tour of London.”
My body is screaming yes, but my brain is busy rationalizing. Of course, my heart wants to go. The idea of being in Rhett’s city, seeing where he belongs, thrills me. But then there’s the other voice, whispering George’s name, reminding me this whole charade is supposed to bring him back to me, not whisk me away into Rhett’s world. I don’t belong there. Even so, the thought of watching Rhett walk away from me now makes something hollow open inside of me.
