After taking another swig from the bottled beer he’d ordered, he lowered it to the table and sat back in the chair. “I can’t control the media.”
“But you can control what you feed them.” Why this was bothering her this weekend, when it hadn’t in the years that she’d known him, Desta had no clue. Maybe because now she was attached to him in more than a work capacity. Just like she’d been attached to Gordon. Once the media had learned of his injury they’d dogged him unmercifully and when his anger about being cut from the team began to spill over into brawls at the club and rumored affairs, she’d been looped right into the headlines.
Maurice shrugged, lifted his hands up in exasperation and then let them fall to his lap. “What am I feeding them? Do I call or email them every day with a story?”
His mood had been on the edge of agitation since the massage that had been meant to relax them. Part of that was probably her fault since she’d dropped the details of her messy past on him, but she hadn’t felt like dodging his questions about her family again. That was the first time she’d told anyone the truth about what had happened in Denver.
“No. But every time you step out of your house, you know they’re watching you. Every date you pick up and take to a restaurant, a Broadway show, a Knicks game and then to a hotel, you know they’re right there taking notes. So basically, you’re giving them all this ammunition to write stories about you.”
“And what would you suggest I do? Not go on dates? Stay locked up in my house?” He sucked in a breath, holding his lips together tightly before letting it out on a whoosh. “I learned a long time ago that I can’t control everything, that sometimes things just happen—and I adjusted my life accordingly. That’s the extent of any changing I plan to do for the sake of anyone else.” Dragging a hand down his face, he pushed back from the table and stood.
This wasn’t how she’d meant for their dinner to go. It was the end of their fun, sex-filled weekend, after all. But something had changed, and if she wasn’t oblivious to that fact, she knew Maurice wasn’t, either.
“You’re not the only one with painful stuff in your past.”
His comment shocked her because she’d thought by walking away he was finished with the conversation. Desta turned in her seat and looked at him.
“I guess college must have been the time to mess up, because that’s when I invited my girlfriend, India, out for a ride in my new car. She’d just graduated from high school, and I was home for the weekend. I figured it was a great time for us to celebrate.” He stood near the window with his back to her.
“What happened when you went for a ride?” A sense of dread had already begun to lodge itself in the center of her chest, but she waited.
“Long story very short,” he repeated her earlier words with a smirk, “I was speeding, and so was the eighteen-wheeler that came around that bend and smacked into us. I got twenty stitches for a gash in my leg, had a mild concussion and some bruised ribs. India was paralyzed from the waist down.”
She gasped. “I didn’t know.” Sorrow for what he and India had gone through slammed into her.
He turned slowly, slipping his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “How could you? It was before the press took an interest in me.” The partial smile and choked chuckle couldn’t hide how shaken he now appeared. “The bottom line is I could’ve not been speeding. I could’ve taken India to dinner and brought her right back home. The accident didn’t have to happen, and I own my part in it. It took me a long time to shake the guilt, but I own it now. And I swore I’d never put anyone else I cared about in danger that way again. So I don’t get involved past a few dates. I keep it casual, no emotions, no recriminations. If the media wants to continually use my choice as their headline, then that’s their business. I only deal with the things I can control.”
Hadn’t she decided to do the same after walking away from Gordon? Only have dealings with other men on terms she could control, only focusing on doing her job well because she could order those steps as well.
“We make a perfect couple.” The words were out before she considered them, which was unlike her. “I just mean that we both carry these loads from our pasts like backpacks.”
“Not tonight...” he said softly. “Can we just drop those backpacks and leave them by the door for tonight?” As if in answer to his question, his cell phone buzzed. He pulled it out of his pocket, glanced down at the screen before turning it off and tossing it onto the chair by the window. “Just for tonight, can we leave everything else behind?”
Desta stood and crossed the room, closing the space between them. Reaching up, she touched her palm to his cheek and warmed all over when he turned slightly to press his lips against her skin. “We can have tonight,” she whispered because that’s what they both needed.
Just one more night to be in each other’s arms in the way they wanted to, on the terms they’d created. It was what they both deserved.
Stepping closer, she tilted her head until her lips touched his. Nothing else, just the touch of her lips to his as she stared at him and he stared at her for what felt like endless moments. When he touched her hair, pushed his fingers
