Fire In His Eyes (Secrets & Seduction #1)(47)

No more games? What was that supposed to mean? He wanted me to call and really talk to him. I couldn’t do it. But yet, I wanted to see him. I was desperate to see him. Could I see him and not want to wrap my arms around him, not want to rip his clothes off? Could I sit across the table from him and not want to crawl across it and sit in his lap and cry like a baby? Or would I hold on to him, and never let him go?

I thought about it for two days. Two torturous days. Two sleepless nights. I was going back and forth. Maybe, I needed to see him one more time for closure. It had been nearly four months. I could do this, couldn’t I? When I got home on Friday, I would do it. I would call him. I chickened out, but after playing with my food at dinner, hardly touching it, I broke down and called him.

“Hello,” Victor said tentatively.

“Hi Victor. It’s me, Monica,” I said. I was nervous. I hadn’t even made up my mind if I would meet him, but the temptation just to hear him had been so strong.

“I know, silly. I saw your name on the caller ID. I didn’t think you would call, but I am glad you did.” He chuckled.

“Yeah. Me too,” I lied as my heart thundered in my chest. I was scared to death. I still wasn’t sure I could see him again.

“So, things are good, right?” he asked curiously. His voice was so casual.

“Yes, things are good this year at work. You?” I asked.

“Better than good, at work. It’s like I never left.” There was an awkward silence. Neither of us knew what to say. “So, can you do coffee? Tomorrow? I am free all weekend, so . . .,” his voice trailed off.

“Umm, yeah, I guess I can,” I stammered. My head was spinning.

“You sure?” he said. He must have heard the hesitation in my voice.

“Yeah . . . umm, I’m okay,” I stalled, then added, “How about the Barnes and Noble over there on Del Mabry. I need to get some AP study guides for my students and we don’t have one over here. So I can kill two birds with one stone,” I offered. Phew, made that one sound good on the fly. I did need some new study guides for that class anyway, even though they sold them at Books a Million nearby, but Victor wouldn’t know that.

“Yeah, that’s close for me. No problems. I think they open at nine,” he suggested.

“Umm, let’s make it for eleven, okay? I want to get my run in, and stuff.” I knew it would only prolong the inevitable, but I wanted to set the terms, the time.

“All right then. I can do that. I’ll see you tomorrow, Monica,” he murmured. Had his voice gotten huskier? Or, was that my imagination playing tricks on me? My mind swam, cloudy with confusion and emotional turmoil.

“See you tomorrow, then,” I echoed Victor’s words and quickly hung up.

I sat on the edge of my chair, the phone still clenched in my hand. Crap, crap, and double crap. What the hell was I doing? How could I put myself through this? What the hell was wrong with me? I tried to tell myself it was just to be sure he was okay, too. But, I knew that wasn’t it. It wasn’t it at all. I must be a sadist, I thought, because I sure as hell liked inflicting pain. On myself.



I woke up feeling nauseous, and I had hardly slept at all. I crawled out of bed, and went to the bathroom and puked my guts out. I was a f*cking idiot. Who was I kidding? Not me. Maybe him. I rinsed my mouth, brushed my teeth, and sipped a little water, foregoing coffee on my sour stomach. I went back to my room, and put on some shorts, and a t-shirt and went for my run. My daily runs consisted of the streets within my neighborhood. I had used the car to plot my route, increasing it as my stamina increased. My new eight mile route took me out of my neighborhood, and included some nice hills for the strengthening of my calves, butt, and hamstrings. It was a great workout and always made me feel better when I was done.

When I got home it was a little after eight. Instead of a shower, and to kill some time, I took a bath instead, soaked a bit, and shaved my legs. By nine, I was dressed and ready to go. I didn’t want to look fabulous, draw attention to myself or anything, but didn’t want to look like a pathetic loser. So, I selected a pair of faded jeans. A little loose, since I had lost maybe fifteen pounds, I didn’t know, but something like that, since Victor and I broke up. I matched it with a loose peasant top that I thought looked kind of Soho. Well, it was a style anyway I told myself in the mirror and shrugged. I did not straighten my hair. I left it wavy, the humidity was pretty much gone in November, but I did blow it out just and used a little mousse in case it got hotter and started to frizz.

I forced myself to have a piece of toast, and glass of apple juice. The toast would settle my stomach. Having nothing in it made the nausea worse so I ate the dry toast and sipped the juice slowly to help it go down. At nine-thirty I was twiddling my thumbs, so I got my keys, and went. I would drive slowly, have time to buy my books before he got there, and be seated with a pile of manuals between us for protection in the coffee shop. Good, I had a plan and felt a little safer.

But, despite my planning, I got there at ten-thirty and saw his car already in the parking lot; he was standing out front looking exactly the same as I imagined. He, too, wore faded jeans, and a navy t-shirt, with an Army logo on it. He smiled when he saw my car pull in the lot, began to approach, and no sooner had I stepped out of the car or even knew what was happening, he wrapped me in a bear hug. “It’s so good to see you, Monica. I was afraid you wouldn’t come.”