She had promised herself she wouldn’t let this happen again. She would never leave herself unprotected like this. She would never set herself up for this high a fall. She had promised herself she would never, ever let this happen again.
But, it had.
Only it was much worse this time:
She’d given Ben her body, but over a mere three days, she’d given Lars her heart.
***
Jane was all business when he returned to pick her up. That, and she was back in her banged-up jeans, baggie sweatshirt, glasses and cap, which made him miss the fresh-faced girl from last night and the warm, wide-eyed, tousled girl waking up next to him this morning, looking so sweet and young, her hair soft and loose.
She sat next to him in the van on the way to the airport, barely saying a word, alternately texting and making phone calls to confirm the flight arrival time, or to coordinate someone from Trend with Samara’s personal team. Lars could see that she was efficient and professional, courteous in her dealings with people, saying “please” and “thank you” nearly constantly, chuckling politely and making small talk when people realized whom she worked for.
He looked out the window, wishing that they’d had one more day together before today, wishing they’d had one more night like last night. He sensed that she was putting some distance between them as she’d done before on Sunday morning; too bad he didn’t have any bison around this time to bring down that wall again.
He thought about the story she told him last night about the man in Cairo who had wined and dined her, then promptly dumped her when her cousin got to town. It was clear how hurt she had been by that episode and how much it made her distrust her cousin and the men she encountered for her work. He had a week to prove to her that he was different, and he intended to make the most of it. As long as she would give him a chance, he’d be sure she didn’t regret it.
“Jane.”
“Hmm?” She had a break between phone calls, but her thumbs kept moving like lightning, texting someone else.
“About last night…”
“Hmm?”
The phone was still commanding one hundred percent of her attention. He just wanted a little of it before Samara and her entourage arrived and they weren’t alone anymore.
“Remember that last kiss before we fell asleep?”
“Mm-hm.”
“Wasn’t any good, huh?”
Her thumbs stopped abruptly, and she looked up, finding his eyes over the rims of her glasses. “You didn’t think so?”
“Not good…” He grinned at her. “More like fantastic.”
She looked like she was about to say something back, then she must have thought better of it, and looked back down at her phone. “Quit distracting me.”
“Just wondered what it would take to get your nose out of your phone.”
“I am very important today, Professor. No time for games.”
“Okay. Then how about the direct approach…when do I get to see you again?”
“I think we’re both going to be very busy.”
Yeah, I’d like to be very busy. With you.
“Too busy for—?”
Jane took a deep breath, putting her phone down and crossing her legs toward him. “You don’t get it. Tornado’s coming, son. Keep your head down and take cover. Maybe I’ll—maybe I’ll catch you on the flip side.”
“Maybe you’ll catch me on the flip side? Why not take cover with me instead? I have nice covers.”
When he glanced over, she was still staring at her phone, but trying not to smile. He could tell, and it made him happy.
“I bet you do.”
“I’m anxious to show them to you.”
“Is that right?”
“Anytime you want, Minx.”
He pulled into the airport parking lot, waving briefly at John, but not rolling down his window to invite further conversation today. What little time they had, he wanted to spend alone with Jane.
He cut the engine and stared out the windshield, waiting for her to say something.
“Okay,” she said.
“Okay, you want to come see my covers?”
“No. Well, yes. But, no.” She looked down, swallowing, and she shifted her phone from hand to hand, nervously. “I need to ask you something.”
“Anything.”
She looked down and swallowed again before raising her eyes to his. Hers weren’t playful; they were serious and nervous; maybe trying to be brave—he couldn’t tell yet. Instinctively he knew that whatever she was about to say, he wasn’t going to like it.
“Just for now…could we…put this…” she gestured with her hand back and forth between them, “…on ice?”
He could feel his face falling. She was only in Montana for a week. The last thing he wanted to do was put anything “on ice” where she was concerned. He sat back, turning away from her, focusing his eyes on the terminal in front of them.
“Can we do that?” she whispered.
No, we can’t. This is real to me. I don’t want to slow down or, or—
“Why?”
“I think it would be for the best.”
The best? No, Jane. The best would be you in my bed tonight or me in yours. Anything else is not the best.
The disappointment he felt almost knocked the wind out of him; made him feel like a teenager who’d just been refused by the girl he’d gotten up all of his courage to ask to the prom. Lars kept his eyes down. He didn’t want her to see the hurt there.
“I like you.” Her voice was more emotional—lower and softer—when she added, “You know I do.”
She was making everything so goddamned complicated and it didn’t need to be.
“And it’s been so great getting to know you and spending time with you, but now it’s—it’s, um, time for me to go to work. I need to concentrate on Samara and the shoot. And I need you to do whatever it is you, you know, need to do…without feeling like you owe me anything.”
Need to do. Like screw your cousin, apparently.
He looked at her, angry now.
“I don’t want to get together with your damned cousin! I’m not that—Aw, hell, what’s the point? You haven’t heard a word I’ve said.” He huffed in frustration before starting again. “I don’t owe you anything, Jane. But, I felt like this”—he mimicked her hand motions back and forth between them—“was special…was maybe the start of something special.”
She gulped, looking away from him.
“I’m not Ben Abaz, but you’re pushing me away—pushing this away—for no good reason. You’re shutting this down, but just for the record, I don’t want to shut it down. I want to give it a chance.” He tilted his head to the side, and his brows furrowed as he softened his voice. He tried one more time. “I know you’ve only known me for a couple of days, but Jane…”
He looked at her face, which reminded him of a mannequin—plastic and apathetic, calm and professional—and he let his voice trail off. Her eyes didn’t water with tears, and she didn’t flex her jaw. Her face was blank as she stared at him, void of any of the disappointment he was feeling. At the growing ache in his heart a painful realization manifested itself in the front and center of his brain, blinking in neon, unable to be ignored: She’s blowing you off. And you need to stop accepting her excuses for why.