LITMIR.BIZ

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didn’t reply. She just stared at him stonily. Then she reached for a towel, dried her hands on it, and marched past him, heading straight into the living room where she twisted the locks and yanked open the door. “I think it’s time you left now.”

      Alex followed her into the living room, but he stopped there, staring at her, trying to fathom what was going on in her head. She wasn’t being sensible, wasn’t being rational.

      “You know I’m right, Daisy.”

      She just looked at him, then at the door. When he still didn’t move, she yanked his jacket off the hook where he’d hung it and thrust it at him. “Goodbye, Alex.”

      Wordlessly he reached out and took it, shrugged it on and zipped it up. “Fine. I’ll go. But this isn’t over. I’ll be back. And while I’m gone, don’t just think about Charlie. Think about what you want, too.”

      And he pulled her into his arms and took her mouth with his.

      He’d been wanting to do this all day, all yesterday, every minute, it seemed, since he’d kissed her last. The hunger was so fierce he ached with it.

      Now he felt her whole body stiffen. She raised her arms between them, her forearms pressing against his chest as if to hold him off. It didn’t matter. While he would have liked to feel her body melt against him, to have her arms wrap around him, to know her eagerness matched his, he didn’t need it to prove his point.

      He had his lips to convince her, to taste her, to tease her. He had his tongue to touch her lips, to part them, to slip between and find her sweetness. God, she made him crazy, made his whole being quiver with need, made the blood sing in his veins.

      He wasn’t going to let her pretend that it meant nothing. Kissing Daisy never meant nothing. Kissing Daisy was amazing, wild, always potent, always drugging. Kissing Daisy always made his heart slam against the wall of his chest, made his loins tighten and his body hum with desire.

      And damn it, he knew—absolutely knew—it was the same for her.

      She fought it. He could feel her resisting. But she was fighting herself, not him. Her lips trembled, pressed together, denied him. But she denied herself, as well.

      So he touched them anyway. He drew a line with his tongue, coaxed, teased. And they gave, opened just a fraction. He took advantage, darted within. He heard her whimper, and her fingers opened to clutch his jacket, hanging on. Her lips softened, parted farther. And he felt a jolt as her tongue tangled with his.

      Yes, like that. It was always like that between them. Always had been. Alex wanted to cheer, to exult, to press his advantage and take them where they both wanted to go. He wanted to slide his fingers beneath her sweater and stroke her curves, her breasts, her very bones. He wanted to tease beneath the waistband of her jeans, slide his fingers south, touch her—there. Damn she was killing him. His breath came hard and fast. He wanted to taste, to tease, to sample and suckle. He wanted to devour. He wrapped her in his arms, thrust his fingers in her hair, kissed her hard one more time.

      Then he pulled back, dragging in lungfuls of air as he looked down into her stunned feverish gaze. “While you’re thinking,” he said roughly, “think about that.”

      Her palm connected with his cheek so fast he didn’t even see it coming.

      “What the hell was that for?” he demanded. His fingers curled. He jammed his hands in his pockets.

      “What was the kiss for?” she countered furiously.

      His gaze narrowed. “That’s why you slapped me? For reminding you that we had something good?”

      “I don’t need any reminders, thank you very much. And it turns out we didn’t have anything at all.”

      “You don’t believe that.”

      “I do. And I don’t need you trying to bribe me with sex.”

      He gaped at her. “Bribe you?”

      Her eyes flashed. “Bribe me, get around me, coerce me, make me do what you want because I’m somehow susceptible to you! Call it what you like. It’s not going to work.”

      “For God’s sake, Daisy.” He raked fingers through his hair. “I was trying to show you it isn’t all about Charlie.”

      “No, it isn’t. It’s all about you—what you want, when you want it, and not when you don’t. You don’t love Charlie. You don’t love anyone. You don’t want to. You push people away. At least Cal wanted to,” she spat at him furiously.

      “Cal?” he retorted. “This is all about Cal? All about your ‘failed’ marriage? Has it really made you that bitter?”

      “I’m not bitter at all. Not at Cal. Not at our marriage.” She lifted her chin as if defying him to argue. “We went into it with our eyes open.”

      He watched her, saw a host of conflicting expressions cross her face. Then she lifted a shoulder as if shrugging off a burden and said, “Cal is gay.”

      Alex stared at her.

      “He’s my friend. And he didn’t have a lover. So when he saw what I was going through, he tried to make it easier for me.” She ran her tongue over her lips. “He was convinced that he could will himself to love whoever he wanted to love.” She shrugged. “He believes in the same things I do—commitment, long-term relationships, responsibility. Love.”

      Alex’s gaze narrowed.

      “He never lied to me. And I didn’t lie to him. He knew I loved you. He knew you didn’t love me. He offered his name, his support, everything he could. And I did the same for him. But—” she lifted her shoulders “—it wasn’t enough. We tried to make it work. It didn’t. In the end we knew that. We’ll always be friends. But there’s more to real love, real marriage than that. And we both wanted … more.”

      “I’m offering you more,” Alex pointed out indignantly.

      Daisy just looked at him. She took a slow breath, then swallowed and shook her head. “No, Alex. You’re not. You’re offering far, far less.”

      She pushed him out the door and closed it after him.

       CHAPTER ELEVEN

      DAISY leaned against the door, tears blurring her eyes. She dashed them away with a shaking hand. Of course he thought she was mad. The way he’d looked at her, patent disbelief in his eyes.

      He was offering her marriage, wasn’t he? Hadn’t that been her heart’s desire five years ago?

      Yes, then. Not now.

      Because this was exactly the sort of “marriage” he would have been offering Caroline. A wedding, a legal, convenient version of friends with benefits. Now as she stood with her back to the front door, still hearing Alex’s footfalls moving quickly away, Daisy wiped a hand over her face, touched the tears, wanted to deny them. Knew she couldn’t.

      They were as real as the truth she’d just told Alex: marriages of convenience didn’t work. Not for her. She and Cal had done their best. But friendship and responsibility only went so far.

      They were only a part of the deep abiding fullness of heart, soul, mind and body that real love was.

      She knew it wasn’t easy. She knew, just as Alex knew, that real love hurt.

      She didn’t care. If she could have the love, she could endure the pain. She’d been raised in the real love of her parents’ marriage. She remembered their joys and their sorrows. She remembered all too well her mother’s pain at her father’s death.

      But she remembered, too, the sight of her mother smiling through her tears as she’d said, “I don’t regret it for an instant. Loving Jack was worth

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