Page 81 of Hot Nights in Morocco
I need to get out of here. I can’t breathe.This man has made every part of me scream with pleasure. Now it’s all screaming in pain.
“I’ll email these notes over first thing tomorrow.” I jump to my feet and start gathering my things together. It takes me ages to pick up my pen lid. My fingers seem to have disconnected from my brain.
“Charlie, stop.”
I force myself to look at him. His face is so still. He’s not giving me anything. I watch him rise from his chair and move slowly in my direction, catching traces of his aftershave as he approaches. Tears prick my eyelids. It’s L.A., Ourika, and Marrakech.
Jake.
He stops a few meters away to undo his top button and loosen his tie. “How are you?”
“I’m okay.” It’s a false whisper.
There’s a shout from the street outside. He glances toward the window, gifting me a view of his profile with the high cheekbones and strong jawline. His black hair has been swept back off his face. He looks so composed, so in control. Our breakup hasn’t affected him. If anything, it’s made him stronger.
He thrusts his hands in his pockets and turns back to look at me. There’s the faintest trace of a bruise high up on his left cheek. I blush again when I see it.
“Don’t. I deserved it,” he says sharply. “What you overheard in my hotel suite was unforgivable.”
“I shouldn’t have hit you.”
“Did you fuck him?”
“How can you even think that?” I say with a gasp, his remoteness cutting me to the core.
“You jumped ship to the enemy. What do you expect me to think?”
Jake is so calm it’s unnerving. I want him to lose his temper and shout at me like he used to. Anything other than this chilly indifference. It’s too synonymous with the way he treated Cassie in his office all those months ago.
“I didn’t sleep with Brad Wilson,” I say quietly. “He offered me a job and I took it. I wanted to see you again. I thought he could make it happen. I wish you’d told me he was your brother, about Global, about the lawsuit, everything.”
We stare at one another again, sizing each other up, taking in each other’s pain.
“Why did you want to see me again, Charlie?”
I shrug helplessly. “I guess I wanted to apolog—”
“I’m not thrilled with you working on Brad’s movie, but I’m glad you found your way back into the industry,” he interrupts, brushing off my words like it’s meaningless noise. He leans across the table and reaches for the conference room telephone system. “Your job will be more tolerable with Ramirez out of the picture. I gather he gave you hell today.”
Ramirez was a breeze compared to the last five minutes.
I watch in a daze as Jake dials down to reception. “Have my driver bring the car around.” He replaces the receiver and delivers a grim smile. “Since my brother has so gallantly stranded you, allow me to offer you a lift home.”
“When are you flying b-back to L.A.?” The words stick in my throat.
“Tonight. As soon as I can get away.”
As soon as you can get away from me, you mean.
“Jake—” I take a step toward him and he stills.
“Don’t.”
Don’t.
I close my eyes in agony. We’re right back to where we started.
“You made your feelings perfectly clear in Morocco,” he says. “I didn’t like it, but I respected it. I’ve thought a lot about what you said. You were right. There was too much uncertainty, not enough trust.”
