An unfamiliar tension stretched between them. Derek looked down at his coffee.
“Not my business,” Nate finally said. “Krissa’s the one you have to answer to. And thanks again for not picking me up at the airport last night.”
“I’m sorry.” Derek looked like someone was stabbing pins in his eyes. “I completely forgot.”
“I know. What the hell’s going on with you?”
“Fuck.” Derek gulped some coffee. “I really don’t want to talk about it right now.”
Nate shrugged. “Okay. Let me know if you do. I’m going to…uh…go for a walk.”
Too bad it was such a sunny day. Even with his sunglasses, his eyes would be watering and burning after ten minutes. But what else did he have to do?
He rose to his feet and refilled his coffee mug, took it with him as he left the kitchen through the sliding doors. A multi-level deck backed the house, overlooking the beach and the ocean, a hot tub on one side and comfortable wicker furniture arranged in a cozy grouping on the other. Yeah, this was quite the house.
He jogged down the wooden stairs to the beach. Rocks of all sizes, washed smooth by ocean waves, dotted the pale sand, and he meandered along until he found a wide flat boulder to sit on. He cupped his coffee mug in both hands, warm beneath his fingers, cool ocean breeze floating around him, and stared out at the Pacific Ocean. The water swelled, rose, curled and crashed into a froth of white, over and over again, the rhythmic sound and ceaseless motion mesmerizing. Seagulls cried overhead, soaring in the clear blue sky.
This was awkward. He’d appreciated the offer of a place to stay while he finished recovering from his food poisoning, had actually been happy to be seeing his friends again after being away for so long. He hadn’t expected to walk into some kind of marital turmoil.
He supposed he could have gone to stay with one of his two brothers, or even his parents, in Los Angeles. But he’d pretty much cut himself off from them after his life had disintegrated. He’d cut himself off from everyone, and calling Derek had seemed the easiest choice.
He’d just have to stay out of their way and hope that his goddamn eyes got better pretty fucking quick.
Krissa rinsed the conditioner out of her hair, then reached for the tap of the shower. She cranked it off, opened the shower door and put out a hand for her towel. Derek stood there, leaning against the vanity, towel in his outstretched hand.
He still hadn’t dressed, and despite her anger and sorrow, and despite his obvious hangover, his muscular chest, smooth and tanned, made her want to touch, and the low-riding boxers drew her eyes to the V-shaped muscles tapering down beneath them. His eyes were shadowed, his face lined with fatigue.
Krissa took the towel and dried off, aware of Derek watching her. Her pussy clenched and her nipples tingled. She wrapped the towel around her, tucked the end in to hold it in place.
Water dripped from her long hair onto her bare shoulders, soaked into the thick towel as they looked at each other.
“I know you were hurting yesterday,” Krissa finally said. “But that doesn’t give you the right to treat me like shit.”
“I know. I said I’m sorry.”
“You could have at least told me you were going out.”
“Iknow. I screwed up, okay?”
She continued to watch him.
His eyes, dark with pain, met hers. “Did you tell Nate?”
“No.”
He nodded.
“Were you with someone?”
He shook his head slowly. “No.”
“I smelled perfume on your suit. Not my perfume.”
“There were women in the bar. I smelled like cigarettes, too, but I wasn’t smoking.”
She nodded. A couple of years ago, they’d had this same conversation. But he’d emphatically denied it, and she’d had no reason to disbelieve him—okay, the truth was, she didn’twantto disbelieve him—so she’d let it go. She didn’t like fighting with him, and nothing else had ever happened, so she must have been wrong.
She didn’t like the suspicion eating at her insides, the fear and worry.
