…The thought sours in my stomach.
The thing is, I know I should feel fine about this. After all, it’s been a year. A year without so much as a peep from Brooks after he ran off with the other girl. My hands clench under the tablecloth, the half of the gin martini I’ve already had boiling through my veins as the rage flares up again.
Jeff should be an easy distraction, and I can’t think of a single female friend who would at all begrudge me this one. After all, he’s hot, rich, and arrogant—all things that would make for a perfect way to finally move on from my shattered heart. I’m not looking for love, and I know damn well Jeff is after one thing, and it sure as hell isn’t a relationship.
This should be the perfect way to finally move on. One night with the asshole analyst who works down the hall from me, so I can finally move on from the man who wrecked me.
…Except, I already know that’s not going to happen.
It’s been a year, and it hasn’t happened. Men have asked me out. Men have bought me drinks. I actually went on one “date” with a guy six months ago, but I spent the entire dinner feeling like I was a horrible cheater, and I excused myself early to go home alone.
It’s the horrible fact that a year later, I’m not “over” or “moved on from” Brooks, because the truth is, I don’t hate him. I can’t hate him. It’s like there’s some part of me that’s holding on to the man I knew. The rough-around-the-edges guy from the other side of the tracks. The one with the smile that stole my heart and melted my panties. The one with the chiseled, hardened, muscled body, and the pure adoration in his eyes. And try as I might, and as much as I know I should, a year later, I still can’t let go of that.
I know I should hate him. But that’s impossible while my heart still loves him.
“Leanna.”
I blink, realizing it’s the fourth time in a row Jeff’s said my name. I blink again drop out of my thoughts, focusing finally on the man sitting across from me.
“Sorry,” I frown, my mouth twisting.
“Bored?”
“What? No, I—” I smile plastically, tucking an errant lock of blonde hair behind my ear before clasping my hands on top of the white linen tablecloth. “No, just thinking through a work thing.”
Jeff smiles. But it’s not a Brooks smile. It’s not that smile that makes my heart skip a beat, or makes the teasing, tinging heat bloom between my thighs and tickle up my spine. No, Jeff’s is more of a predatory, practiced smile.
“What if we got out of here.”
I blink. “Excuse me?”
“C’mon, Leanna,” he purrs, reaching across the table. And before I can move them, he takes my hands in his. “We’ve been dancing around this for months.”
This is new to me.
“Jeff, I think you might have—”
“I know the story, Leanna,” he says flatly. “Look, your husband took off, and that sucks. But there’s no need to join the nunnery, you know? I mean, I’m here, you’re here. You’re divorced and hot as fuck, and my condo is two blocks from here.”
My eyes go wide, and my jaw drops a little at his brazenness.
“Okay, Jeff, I think—”
“C’mon baby,” he drawls out, his eyes locked on mine. “Wouldn’t I be the perfect way to get back at your ex?”
I hate that I hesitate, because I can see instantly that it makes Jeff think he’s found a foothold or that he’s started to wear down my walls. The truth of it though, is that I’m pausing because of his choice of words.
Ex.
The problem is, Brooks isn’t my ex. Legally, we’ve never divorced. I kept waiting for papers, seeing as he was off with this new woman apparently, but they never came. My father’s been pushing me to file myself for months now, but I can’t bring myself to do it. It’s the same reason I can’t bring myself to hate Brooks.
It’s because part of me won’t let me believe that it’s even real.
“Jeff, I—”
I’m about to explain it to him. I’m about to tell him about how I’m not actually divorced, like that even matters to a prick like Jeff, thank him for the drink, and get up and leave. But just when I’m about to do all of that, something draws my eyes. Slowly, I look past Jeff towards the front door of the restaurant, and suddenly, the whole world melts away.
Because suddenly, fifty feet away, are the bluest, most piercing, most heart-stoppingly gorgeous blue eyes I’ve ever seen in my life, and they’re looking right at me.
…And I know those eyes, because years ago, I fell in love with the man they belonged to. And somehow, a year after he vanished from my life, Brooks O’Neil is standing right in front of me, looking at me across the room with a look of pure possession in his eyes.