LITMIR.BIZ

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how much she’d missed the intimate company of a man.

      “The words vacation and grandfather can’t be used in the same sentence, at least not where I’m concerned. It’s more of an attempt at rekindling some burning embers with my family. I thought I’d start with my grandfather and work forward.”

      “Sounds as if you burned a lot of bridges.”

      “More like I soaked them in gasoline and used a flamethrower.” His voice took on a serious tone, as if he hadn’t liked where his life was heading and now he was seriously trying to change.

      “I’m getting a little worried.”

      “About what?”

      “About us.”

      “Things are looking up. I didn’t know we were an us.”

      She chuckled and slowed her pace, wanting to make her intentions clear.

      “That all depends.”

      “On what?”

      “On if your arson days are over.” She didn’t want to begin anything with Gage if he was already focused on the endgame. What few men she had dated in the five years since her husband’s passing had only been interested in hookups or sex without any commitment. In the beginning that was fine, but after you’ve experienced real love, hooking up with men who don’t care about you gets old really fast. She wanted something more now, and until she found it, she was willing to stay celibate. At least, that was the plan.

      “I’m more into building bridges now. Not that I’m a very good carpenter, but I’m learning.”

      She nodded, wanting to know more, but willing to wait for the details when and if he was ready to share.

      “One plank at a time.”

      “That’s a tough concept for a New Yorker. Especially in my line of work.”

      “What do you do?”

      “I’m a trader.”

      “A Wall Street trader?”

      “Yes, but I’m on an extended leave at the moment.”

      When she glanced at him, she saw the anxiety on his face. She’d met several traders, both in her practice and socially. If they couldn’t be in the center of the action they had a difficult time functioning in general society. They needed that constant tension in order to remain somewhat calm.

      “And I take it that’s not a state you’re comfortable with.”

      “I’m trying to settle into it, but I have to admit it’s more difficult than I’d ever imagined.”

      “I have a feeling you miss the high-speed pace of the trading floor.”

      When they came to a corner, they each looked both ways on the deserted streets, and casually made their way across... A far cry from the streets of Manhattan where the traffic never stopped, 24/7.

      “There’s more to it than the pace. I grew used to getting whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted it. And I grew used to expecting it. More than I’d like to admit. Second row seats at a Knicks game, same-night reservations at any high-end restaurant in Manhattan, first-row theater tickets, whatever. It’s hard to explain. I felt as if I was someone important, and that I deserved all that stuff.”

      “So you were addicted to the power that kind of position brings.”

      “You sound like my shrink.”

      “I treated a patient with wealth addiction in 2008 when the stock market crashed. He would have tried to hang himself, because he’d lost several million dollars in three days, but he couldn’t find the appropriate Armani belt. At least that’s what he told me. He was also a perfectionist, which ultimately saved his life.”

      He snickered and shook his head. “Are you serious?”

      “Absolutely.”

      “It wasn’t like that for me. Usually I was too drunk back then to really care.”

      Cori abruptly stopped walking. Her heart raced and her stomach was clenched. His words were like a stinging slap. She turned to face him. “What do you mean?”

      “Ironic that we should stop walking here in front of Wine and Fine Spirits, a store I would have immediately been drawn to if this were a few months ago.”

      Cori took stock of her surroundings, and sure enough, just a couple steps up ahead, next to a real estate office, stood a softly lit shop with an inviting open doorway. She walked up to the window and peered inside. High-end wine and spirits crowded the shop. Some of which she would like to buy and bring back to Gram’s. Cori loved a smooth Pinot Noir and she spotted a great bottle for only sixty-five dollars.

      A steal.

      She was thinking how she’d buy a couple of bottles before they left town when Gage said, “I’m a recovering alcoholic. At least that’s the term I’m supposed to use. I crave a drink twenty-four-seven, but somehow I manage to control the craving by telling myself I’m better off without it.”

      “And do you believe you are?”

      He moved to get closer to her and stared into her eyes. She saw the vulnerability of a man in need of affection, in need of family, of friends, of a lover...of a drink.

      “Moments like this, being this close to you, I would have to say yes. I believe I am.”

      He gently ran his fingers down the side of her face, like feathers caressing her cheek. She’d so missed a man’s touch, his laughter, the intimacy of his affections.

      Gage leaned in to kiss her, but at the very last moment she stepped away from him. Reality took hold, stark hurtful reality of a past event that had changed her life forever. She suddenly felt sick to her stomach. Only seconds ago, she’d been daydreaming of his kiss, and now his touch clenched her insides. The mere thought of her being intimate with a recovering alcoholic made her feel as if she was betraying her past and jeopardizing Hailey’s future. She envisioned herself running toward a cliff without the ability to stop.

      “I’m sorry, but I can’t...I can’t do this. I need to get over to the hotel. My daughter won’t sleep without me tucking her in.”

      His forehead furrowed, breaking the trance. “Sure. I understand. We can hustle back.”

      She took a few steps backward, feeling as if being near him was wrong.

      “No. That’s okay. You continue with your walk. I don’t want to force you to come back with me. It’s a nice night. You should enjoy it.”

      He stepped toward her, just as she turned and headed up the sidewalk. She needed to get out of there. Needed to get away from him before she did something she’d regret.

      “You’re not forcing me to do anything. I want to escort you back to the hotel,” he said from behind her.

      He caught up to her and tried to take her hand. She snapped it away, as if he was a stranger.

      “You’re not understanding. I don’t want you to come with me. Please. Just let me go. Our grandparents were right. We can’t talk to each other anymore.”

      He stopped walking as she moved ahead of him, leaving him standing on the corner. She jogged across the deserted street, heading straight toward the hotel. She heard him call after her, but she kept moving forward, kept jogging until she stood in front of the hotel, struggling to catch her breath, thinking about what had nearly happened.

      How could she have flirted with an alcoholic? Fallen for his charm? It wasn’t like her to be taken in so easily. She should have caught the warning signs from the start. His ordering a soda in the bar when they first met should have tipped her off.

      As she ran up the three cement steps right outside the lobby, she decided she wanted nothing to do with Gage Remington, no matter what her libido

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