ht-arrow for a woman like Stacy.”
“That’s what makes him good for her,” she insisted, sounding so uncharacteristically argumentative he had to force back another smile. She was proving his point for him. “They balance each other out. You’re the trained observer. I can’t believe you don’t see something so obvious.”
“But, Kylie, if they’re good for each other, right for each other, then that would make them”—he paused for effect—“an exception to the rule?”
“Yes…no!” She scrubbed a hand across her face and then looked up at him. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I hope yes.”
Reaching out, he grabbed her hand and tugged her closer. When she didn’t resist, he pulled her down on the bed beside him. “Let me get this straight. Stacy and Ian could be an exception to this ironclad rule, but not you and me? Because I’m thinking you and I might qualify for one of these exceptions you’ve mentioned. Maybe instead of getting in the way of your dreams, I’d be the guy who’s helping you, and looking out for you—the guy who’s got your back.”
The wide blue eyes staring up at him swirled with confusion and sorrow. Finally, she looked down at their joined hands. “Trevor, you don’t really know me…”
“Ah, Christ, we’re back to that again?” Now he sprang up from the bed. With no better outlet for his impatience, he paced to the window and stared at the treetops silhouetted against the night sky. “I knew plenty about you the minute I set eyes on you. Even when you’re surrounded by people, you hold yourself apart. You don’t find lying easy, and you’re not good at it. You’re instinctively friendly, but stingier with trust. How’m I doing so far?”
He turned to look at her, but she didn’t answer, so he kept going. “You worry about everyone—Stacy, the other dancers at Deuces, a couple of dead customers, even me—but find it difficult to believe someone could genuinely care about you. You’re a tough, fragile, brave, cowardly woman. If you’re looking for a way to tell me you don’t want to take this thing between us any further, try another excuse, because ‘You don’t really know me’ won’t cut it. There may be a few people on this planet who know more about your past than me, but I’ll wager there’s nobody who knows you better than I do—body and soul.”
“Can’t you just be satisfied with the body?” she pleaded, her voice little more than a whisper.
Heart heavy, he dropped back down beside her on the bed and took her hand. Yes, his dick insisted. Hell, yes. A huge part of his mind wanted to cast the same vote, the part thinking maybe she just needed some more time. But his heart, or his balls, or a combination of both, wouldn’t let him compromise on something so critical.
“No chance. I’m falling in love with you, Kylie.”
He watched her expression shift from confused to flat-out scared. “You’re not, Trevor. Don’t say—”
“And you’re falling in love with me, too.” Normally he wouldn’t toss what a woman said in the heat of passion back at her, but he wasn’t feeling particularly fair at the moment. “Deny it to yourself if you have to, but I know the truth. So, no, I won’t let you use me—use us—for sex and pretend that’s all there is. If sex is all you’re willing to ante up, then I fold.”
Those deep blue eyes looked so lost and wounded, he fought the urge to pull her into his arms and tell her she could have him on whatever terms she wanted.
“Are you saying you don’t want to see me anymore?”
He stood and pulled her to her feet. If she dissolved into tears on his bed, he’d cave for sure and would never be able to face himself in the mirror again. “No. I’m saying I want to spend time with you somewhere besides there.” He gestured to the bed. “I want to send you roses. I want to see the way your skin glows in candlelight. I want to call you in the middle of the day, just to talk. I want all of that, and a hell of a lot more. But, if you don’t, if that’s too disruptive to your precious plans, then…” Drawing a deep breath while parts of his anatomy vehemently protested the ultimatum, he gathered his strength and finished. “No. Your body, amazing as it is, isn’t enough for me.”
She lowered her head, but not before he saw her chin tremble. “Kylie…” Cupping his hand around her neck, he nudged his thumb along her jaw, lifting her face to his. Her chin had firmed, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes.
“I should go.”
Not the answer he’d been hoping for. Forcing a smile, he said, “Yeah, I had a feeling—”
Her lips cut him off—fast, hard, a little bit rough, and then gone. Only the lingering scent of tropical paradise hinted she’d been there at all.
Chapter Seventeen
Kylie had tried walking meditation successfully on a number of occasions, but the trip home was her first attempt at driving meditation. She locked all her sadness, confusion, and fear away in her mental holding cell and concentrated on the quiet, almost traffic-free streets, the patterns of light dotting the valley below, the sound of warm night air rushing through her half-lowered driver’s side window. It worked pretty well, until she pulled up outside the apartment and saw Ian’s car parked in her space.
That’s when her emotions made a break for it, with sadness leading the charge. Not that she resented Stacy’s good fortune. On the contrary, she couldn’t be prouder or happier for her twin. First the big career breakthrough and now, what appeared to be an actual relationship with a smart, handsome, reassuringly decent man. Ian saw all of Stacy’s layers—not just the pretty, chip-resistant surface she liked to present to the world, but the softer, more fragile stuff she kept hidden away—and he seemed to appreciate every single one of them. She wanted that for Stacy.
You want it for you, too, a little voice insisted. But she also feared it. Feared losing herself in a relationship, the way her mom always did, letting her dreams fall by the wayside, and worse yet, allowing the haters in Two Trout the chance to say, “We told you so. We told you those Roberts girls would never amount to anything.”
Stacy seemed well on her way to proving them wrong now, but Kylie had always intended to prove them wrong, too. She’d let the intention become the centerpiece of her life. So much so that she’d pushed away all distractions, including any men who expressed interest.
And wasn’t that the most pathetic thought? Did she honestly give a damn what people she hadn’t seen or spoken to in five years said about her?
Meanwhile, a man right in front of her said she could do whatever she put her mind to. Trevor hadn’t laughed or dismissed her goals when she’d discussed them with him tonight. The opposite, actually. He’d admired her aspirations, and believed in her ability to succeed. So why did she assume opening herself up to a relationship with him meant giving up her ambitions?
Because of your mom. Curiously, a light popped on in their apartment, and, simultaneously, in her head. Okay, yes, her mom had dropped out of high school in order to move in with a boyfriend for a short-lived attempt at domestic bliss. And after that failed, she’d bounced from relationship to relationship, each time convinced the new guy was The One. But what big aspirations had her mom sacrificed in favor of this quest? None sprang to mind. Debbie Roberts’s main aim in life seemed to be finding the perfect man, and looking at it that way, her mom was the ultimate never-giver-upper.
And Kylie was a big, screwed-up idiot. The only man she’d ever loved had bared his heart to her, and she’d rejected him! Oh, God, had she blown their chance at happiness? Searching her bag for her phone, she prayed he’d give her a chance to apologize…explain, or, at the very least, tell him what he already knew.
She loved him.