Giving In (Surrender Trilogy #2)(10)

He shrugged. “Who doesn’t? Life is short. I choose to enjoy life’s pleasures, even the little ones.”

She sucked in her breath, pain sharp through her chest. He was certainly right about that. Why couldn’t she be as simple as he? She, more than anyone, knew she should move on, quit living in the past, grab onto the good in life. Let go of the bad. The bad was behind her, wasn’t it? She’d moved way beyond her past. And yet? She was stuck much like a truck in the mud, buried to the bumpers. Still allowing her past and fears to rule her present.

Weak. She was weak and she was so damn tired of feeling that way. Acting strong didn’t make her so. It just made her an abrasive, standoffish bitch, and she wasn’t proud of that. Thank God her friends—the people who loved her—accepted her, warts and all. She couldn’t even contemplate her life without them. That unconditional love and support.

She’d very nearly botched things royally with Joss. She’d said unforgivable things to her sister-in-law. Things that had hurt Joss and had made Kylie feel an inch tall. But Joss was . . . Well, she was Joss. A sweet and loving heart incapable of holding a grudge or withholding her forgiveness. Kylie wished with all her heart that she could be more like Joss.

“That’s a very good philosophy to have,” she said, able to admit it even if she wasn’t able to practice it. Yet. But she was determined to get there. One day. And soon, damn it.

He nodded. And as she suspected he would do, he said, “One you should adhere to.”

“We were talking about you, not me,” she said lightly, directing the conversation away from her. Always away from her. Anything beyond the superficial pleasantries with her was strictly off-limits. She’d already allowed him to see far more than anyone ever should.

“Would you care for dessert?”

She blinked at the abruptness and his instant acceptance of her diverting attention away from herself. It would seem he had at least some give to him. Who knew?

Then she glanced down at her half-eaten entrée and smiled ruefully. “No. I’d much rather fill up on the rest of my steak and lobster. It’s delicious and there’ll be no room for anything more. Besides, we should be going soon. Early morning for us both tomorrow.”

She forced the same lightness into her tone so it wouldn’t seem as though she was in a hurry, dismissing him. But again, that gleam in his eyes told her he saw far more than she was comfortable with. She was beginning to think he was a damn mind reader with extrasensory perception.

“Finish then, but take your time. Tomorrow morning is no earlier than any other business day for us. I know well what time you’re in the office every morning and it’s certainly not eight.”

Of course he would know. She punched no time clock. She was salaried and Dash had always been absolutely flexible with her hours, though she never took advantage of that. It had been easy to lose herself in work after Carson died. It kept her occupied, an outlet. At work she could blank out her grief and desolation. At home, she didn’t have any distractions. And at home, she was alone. Achingly alone. So she was always in the office between six thirty and seven each morning. Normally before Dash ever came in.

But with Jensen’s arrival, to her annoyance, he often beat her in and was in his office when she entered her own.

She was nearly finished with the succulent feast before her when she glanced up and saw a man walking from the far right of the restaurant toward a table in the back. Not very far from where she and Jensen sat.

She froze, the food she’d consumed now sitting like lead in her stomach. Bile rose and her hand shook so badly that she dropped the fork, the noisy clang startling in the silence.

She knew her face had drained of blood. She was utterly paralyzed and she couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t force much-needed air into her lungs. Her chest constricted tighter and tighter and her throat followed suit until she was well into a full-blown anxiety attack.

Perspiration beaded her forehead and upper lip. The desire to flee, to run as fast as she was able and to get as far away from this place as possible seized her. But she couldn’t make her legs obey. Couldn’t even manage the simple act of breathing, much less acting on her desire to get away.

And then Jensen was right in her face, kneeling on the floor next to her chair. His hand jerked her chin so she was forced to look at him and away from the man who was now seated, alone, several tables away from theirs.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded sharply. “Damn it, Kylie, breathe. You’re going to pass out if you don’t start breathing now.”

She tried to obey the forceful command even though it humiliated her beyond measure that he was witnessing her falling completely apart. But her lungs were frozen, her chest so constricted she hadn’t a hope of breathing.

An anxious-looking waiter immediately appeared, offering his assistance, asking if she needed help. Jensen turned on him, his face a black thundercloud.

“Leave us,” he barked. “She’ll be fine.”

Would she? She didn’t feel fine. She didn’t feel as though she’d ever be fine. A wave of despair hit her and the room swayed around her. She knew she was precariously close to blacking out.

“I have to go,” she croaked out. “Now. I have to leave. Now,” she said again, with more emphasis.

The words were hard to form around her starving lungs, the knot in her throat making her voice hoarse and raspy.