Cape Cod Promises (Love on Rockwell Island 2)

“This can’t be good. Even if he is taking off to have lunch with his mother and sister today, I’m sure he still works too much and puts work ahead of everything else in his life.”

“Although you did have all those awesome marathon sex sessions,” Jocelyn pointed out with a laugh.

“Stop.” Reese laughed, too, but her body shivered in the most delicious way with the memory of Trent’s big hands on her. And his mouth. Oh God, his mouth. “It’s been ten years. Ten years without anything even remotely flirty. We never even had any real closure after our divorce, and now this? This sudden—insatiable—desire to connect with him on every level again.”

“I swear I’m not taking his side,” her friend said, “but I can’t help wondering if maybe, just maybe, that isn’t such a bad thing. Because when the two of you are in a room together...” Jocelyn fanned herself. “I’m not exaggerating when I say I’ve never seen chemistry like what you two have. Both then and now. What if he has changed his life for the better?”

Reese shook her head, trying to separate her emotions from her desires and think clearly, but they were all muddled together. Then again, when it came to Trent, they always were. There was no sex without emotion. There was no sex without love. From the very start, the physical and emotional had been tangled together so completely they’d blended into one.

“Okay,” she finally admitted. “He’s having lunch with his mother and sister, and he walked here when he could have made a phone call instead, and that’s all different from the way he was in New York. Still, that doesn’t mean the man who worked ninety hours a week is gone.”

Reese looked around the gallery, remembering how much work it had taken to drag herself back into life after their divorce, much less get up the gumption, and the desire, to open her gallery and actually fulfill her dreams. But she’d done it, and if she jumped right back into Trent’s arms, she was risking everything she’d worked so hard to achieve. Her brain turned to mush around him, even after all this time. It was a little unsettling—and equally as exciting—to feel the effect they still had on each other. But this time she knew she needed to slow down and think things through. She needed to make herself, and building up the trust between them, as a priority over her raging hormones and secret daydreams about having Trent’s love again.

Drawing upon the strength she’d honed all those years ago, she silently renewed the commitment to herself and the life she’d built. They’d take it slowly, like the older, wiser adults they were.

At least they would if she could figure out how to keep her lips off his…

Chapter Nine

THE CONFERENCE ROOM had seemed like a stellar idea when Trent had suggested it. It was a professional environment that shouldn’t be the least bit seductive, which dinner in a dimly lit restaurant might have been. It was also located on the administrative floor of the resort—nowhere near his suite, or any other bedrooms for that matter. But as Trent watched Reese study the architectural outline of the resort, her brows knitted together and her lips pursed in that adorable way she had when she was concentrating, he realized it wouldn’t matter if she was sitting in the middle of a boardroom or the center of his bed.

He was even more captivated by her than he had been ten years ago.

When Trent shifted in his seat and his leg accidentally brushed hers, Reese lifted her eyes to his, reminding him of how easily he had always gotten lost in them. She blinked up at him through thick lashes, her eyes full of desire, but as she shifted her knees away, he could see that it was underscored with confusion.

After ten years of conflicting feelings, I’m suddenly not conflicted at all.

Trent finally knew exactly what he wanted—another chance with Reese. He badly wanted to clear the air between them and let her know how sorry he was for their divorce, but he was so worried about short-circuiting the small steps they were taking that he wasn’t yet sure how to do it.

As her eyes moved over his face, lingering around his mouth, Trent suppressed the urge to lean in and kiss her. Being with her was so natural, so comfortable—for him, at least. As if no time had passed since their last kiss the morning he’d gone to work...and she’d gone packing.

But Reese’s brows were knitted tightly together and she was nibbling nervously on her lip, and his heart ached to apologize, even if he wasn’t sure of the right way to do it.

Would there ever be a right time?

Trent wasn’t an indecisive man, and trying to refrain from it all—the apology, touching Reese, telling her about his burgeoning emotions—was just too damned hard. “Reese, we should talk. About us. About our divorce. I really am sorry for everything, and I’d like to—”