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“I’ve missed you.”
DJ tipped back her head to look into his eyes, her cynical side wondering if he said that as a way to talk her into bed. But the look on his face was sincere, his eyes radiating honesty. Besides, Matt didn’t use coercion. She was either fully on board or he backed off; Matt did not whine or beg or force.
Besides, they both knew she was going to slide into bed with him the moment she saw him standing in the doorway. She was putty in his hands.
“You, half-naked in sexy lingerie, is my early Christmas present.” Matt lifted a curl off her forehead and tucked it behind her ear. His mouth curled up into a deprecating half smile. “But I’m embarrassed to tell you that I hightailed it out of my office to make my flight and I’ve been rushing ever since. I didn’t want to be late, so I didn’t stop to buy condoms. You wouldn’t happen to have any, would you?”
DJ shook her head. Well, crap. Matt never, ever made love to her without one.
“So, damn. No condoms. Maybe we should go to the church and pick this up later.”
Oh, hell, no.
“Or we could just carry on...” DJ ran her finger down his hard erection before fumbling with the snap on his pants.
Matt groaned. “Dylan-Jane, oral isn’t enough. I need to be inside you. I’ll go pick up some condoms and come back. We’ll miss the service, but we could still make the reception.”
Hearing his rough, growly, frustrated voice, DJ melted. “I’m on the pill, Matt. I’m clean, there hasn’t been anyone since we last hooked up, and if you can tell me you are...”
Matt nodded. “Yeah, I am.” He kissed her lips before pulling back again. “Can I trust you with this, Dylan-Jane? There won’t be any unexpected surprises?”
If he knew her better, he wouldn’t have to ask. Sure, the time they spent together was a fantasy, hot and wild, but that wasn’t the person she was in real life. In Boston, she didn’t do the unexpected and she hated surprises. Her life was planned, regulated, controlled.
And a baby was Darby’s dream, not DJ’s.
“I’ve got this, Matt.” DJ pushed his pants and boxers down his hips, wound her arms around his strong neck and lowered her mouth onto his, whispering her words against his lips. “Come inside me, Matt, it’s been too damn long.”
Matt didn’t hesitate, quickly pushing her panties to the side. He slid inside her, held her there and then lowered her to the bed. Gathering her to him, DJ knew that he’d try to be a gentleman—he always tried to make their first encounter together slow and reverential. She didn’t need either—she needed hot and hard and fast.
“Matt, I need to burn,” DJ told him in a tortured whisper.
Matt pushed himself up and slowly rolled his hips. When she released a low moan, he smiled.
He had a repertoire of smiles, from distracted to dozy, but this one was her favorite: part pirate, part choirboy, all wicked.
“Well, then, let’s light a match, Dylan-Jane.”
Matt slid his hands under her hips, lifted her up, slammed into her and catapulted her into that white-hot, delicious fire she’d longed for.
She was almost, but not quite, tempted to murmur “Merry Christmas to me.”
One (#u5fb66e2a-be0d-567c-baa0-5b530d5e8cd7)
Nearly a year later...
In the public area at Logan International Airport, Matt Edwards ignored the crowds and maneuvered his way around the flower bearers and card holders. He’d mastered the art of walking and working his smartphone: there were ten messages from his office and a few text messages. None, dammit, were from Dylan-Jane.
Despite reaching out over a week ago, she’d yet to give him a definitive answer about them getting together in Boston.
Maybe she was making him wait because he’d been out of touch for so long. But he’d been busy and it just happened that they’d had less contact this year than usual. A lot less. But he was here now, and he was hopeful they could recapture some of their old magic.
“Matt!”
Matt turned, saw the tall frame of his old friend Noah Lockwood striding toward him and smiled. Well, this was a pleasant surprise.
Matt pushed his phone into the inside pocket of his black jacket before shaking Noah’s hand. “It’s great to see you, but what are you doing here?”
Noah fell into step beside him. “I’ve just dropped Jules off. She’s flying to New York to meet a client. I knew you were coming in today, saw the flight times and thought I’d buy you a beer.”
An excellent plan. It had been months, maybe even more than a year, since he and Noah had exchanged anything other than a brief phone call or a catch-up email. At college, they’d been tight, and despite their busy lives, he still considered Noah a friend.
Noah had also introduced Matt to DJ, and for that he’d always be grateful.
“I’d love a beer.”
They walked to the nearest bar and Matt headed to two empty seats at the far end of the joint, tucking his suitcase between him and the wall before he slid onto the barstool. Within minutes he had a glass of an expensive microbrew in front of him.
Noah raised his glass and an enquiring eyebrow. “What brings you back to Boston?”
How to answer? Matt ignored the ache in that triangle where his ribs met. This visit, unlike those quick visits to see his grandfather, was going to be...difficult.
Emotional. Draining. Challenging.
All the things he most tried to avoid.
“I’m moving my grandfather into an assisted-living facility.” Stock answer.
Noah looked surprised. “The judge is moving out of his home? Why?”
Matt took a sip of his beer before rubbing his eyes. “He’s showing signs of dementia and Alzheimer’s. He can’t live on his own anymore.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Noah said. “How long are you going to be in town for?”
Matt tapped his finger against his glass. “I’m not sure, but since I don’t have any court appearances scheduled until the New Year, probably until after Christmas. So, for the next three weeks at least.”
Noah’s eyes were steady on his face and Matt felt the vague urge to tell his friend the other reason he was in Boston. But talking wasn’t something he found easy to do.
Noah didn’t push, but changed the subject by asking another question. “So, are you going to contact DJ while you’re in town?”
Matt sent Noah a sour look. “Who’s asking, you or your fiancée?”
Noah grinned. “Jules’s last words to me weren’t ‘I love you, you’re such a stud,’ but ‘get Matt to tell you why he and DJ haven’t spoken for nearly a year.’”
Matt shook his head. “You are so whipped, man.”
Noah just grinned.
“I thought Jules and Darby would be happy to hear that DJ and I drifted apart. They aren’t my biggest fans.”
Noah rubbed the back of his neck. “Look, I’m in the middle here. I introduced you to DJ but I never expected your no-strings affair to last for years. I’ve told the twins to leave you two alone. You are adults and you both know what you are doing.
“But they love her and they are worried about her,” Noah added.
Matt’s head shot up. “Why are they worried about her?”
Noah released a soft curse. “You’ve got to know how much I love Jules, because if I didn’t, I wouldn’t ever consider broaching this subject.”
Yep, whipped. If Matt wasn’t the subject of the conversation, he’d find Noah’s dilemma amusing. “The twins are worried because she hasn’t been the same this past year. She’s been quieter, more reserved, less...happy,” Noah told him.
Matt filled in the blanks. “And they are blaming me for that?”
“Not so much blaming as looking for an explanation. DJ isn’t talking, so my fiancée, damn her, asked me to ask you. Man, I sound like a teenager.”
“So you didn’t just accost me to have a beer?”
“The beer was an added incentive,” Noah said, obviously uncomfortable. “Look, forget it, Matt. It’s not my or Jules’s business and I feel like a dick raising the subject.”
Matt wanted to be annoyed but he wasn’t. He’d always envied the friendship Dylan-Jane and the twins shared. They were a tight unit and would go to war for each other. He’d been self-sufficient for as long as he could remember, and his busy career didn’t allow time for close friendships. It certainly didn’t allow time for a relationship.
Matt carefully picked his words. “DJ and I have an understanding. Neither of us are looking for something permanent. I’m sorry if she’s had a tough year but I don’t think it’s related to me. We were very clear about our expectations and we agreed there would be no hard feelings if life, or other people, got in the way of us seeing each other.”
“Other people? Are you seeing someone else?”
Was Noah kidding? It had been a hell of a year and he hadn’t needed the added aggravation of dating someone new. He’d had a slew of tough cases and he’d been sideswiped by explosive news and saddened by an ex’s untimely death. And he was now required to make life-changing decisions for his once brilliant grandfather.
Starting something new with someone new when he was feeling emotionally battered wasn’t the solution to anything. As a teenager he’d learned the hard lesson that emotion and need were a dangerous combination.
He’d fallen in love at sixteen and he’d walked around drunk on emotion. His ex, Gemma, and he had made their plans: they’d graduate, go to college, get married, have kids...and they’d feel like this forever. She was the one, his everything...
At seventeen she’d informed him she was pregnant. A part of him had been ecstatic at the news of them having a baby—this would be the family he’d never really had, his to protect, his to love. His. All his...
After ten days of secret planning, and heart-to-heart discussions, Gemma flipped on him, telling him she’d miscarried and was moving across town and changing schools.
She didn’t love him, she never really had...
He’d vowed then that love was a myth, that it was a manipulative tactic, that it didn’t really exist. His parents, his grandparents, Gemma—they all proved his point. At seventeen, he’d dismissed love and forever as a fabrication and nothing since had changed his mind.
He now believed in sex, and having lots of it safely, but love? Not a chance.
And sex, in his mind, meant DJ.
DJ didn’t want anything permanent, either. Just like him, she was allergic to commitment. They spent just enough time together to enjoy each other but not enough to become close. It was the perfect setup...
Or it had been.
He was back in Boston, in her city, and he saw no reason not to meet. It had been too long since he’d held her, since he’d tasted her skin, inhaled her fruity scent, heard her laugh. DJ, fun-loving, exuberant and sensuous, was exactly the medicine he needed. She’d be a distraction from thinking about how to handle the bombshell news he still hadn’t wrapped his head around.
Matt looked at Noah. “I really don’t know what’s going on in DJ’s life, but I doubt it has anything to do with me.”
Noah drained his beer. “Are you going to see her while you’re in Boston?”
Of course he was. “Yeah.”
“Then I’ve been told to tell you that if you hurt her, they’ll stab you with a broken beer bottle.”
Matt rolled his eyes. DJ’s friends were fierce. “Understood. But, as I said, we have a solid understanding.”
Noah lifted his hands. “Just the messenger here.” He pulled some cash out of his wallet and ignored Matt’s offer to contribute. “If you don’t want to spend the next month or so in a hotel, you’re welcome to use the carriage house at Lockwood House. When we are home, Jules and I live in the main house.”
Noah’s property was, if Matt remembered correctly, the cornerstone of a very upmarket, expensive golfing community north of Boston. It was a generous offer and Matt appreciated it. “Thank you. That would be great.”
“It was Jules’s idea. That way she can keep an eye on you.” Noah smiled. “And you do know that our house is directly opposite where Darby, DJ and Levi Brogan live? The same Levi Brogan who is superprotective and has no idea that you’ve been sleeping with the woman he loves like a sister for the last five-plus years?”
Oh, crap.
“It’s going to be fun watching you tap-dance around him,” Noah said before he clapped Matt on the shoulder and walked out of the bar.
Matt looked down at his phone and automatically stabbed his finger on the gallery icon. He flicked through the images of Dylan-Jane, memories sliding over him, and stopped when he came to a topless photo he’d snapped of her lying on the sand on a private beach in St. Barts. She was facing the sea but had turned her head back to look at him and the camera, her sable hair skimming the sand. She was all golden gorgeousness—flashing dark eyes, flushed cheeks, rosy nipples on her perky, tanned breasts.
Unable to resist her, he’d picked her up and carried her to the water, where they’d had amazing sea sex.
He had lots of great memories of DJ but, hell, making love to her in the sea and later on the sand was one of his favorites.
He desperately wanted to make more memories...
Shaking his head, Matt pulled up his last chat with DJ and quickly skimmed over the words they’d exchanged over the past week. He’d told her that he’d be in Boston the following week and asked if they could meet. DJ had sent him a surprised-face emoji as a reply...
Matt frowned. A surprised face wasn’t a yes...
Neither was it a no...
What it was, was a strange way for DJ to respond.
She’d always been up-front and honest about telling him her plans, whether she could meet him or not. They didn’t play games, didn’t lie. They either wanted to be together, for a day or three or four, or they didn’t. They could either make time for each other, or they couldn’t. This year they hadn’t managed to meet and that was just the way life went. He presumed she was busy managing her rapidly expanding design firm and he’d had his all-consuming work and the additional personal dramas to deal with...
But could she be dating someone else?
Matt’s stomach tightened and he told himself to get a grip. He had no right to be jealous. They’d both agreed they couldn’t expect to be monogamous when they were so far apart. He had been for the past year but that was more through circumstances than choice. They’d agreed to be honest with each other, to tell each other if someone else was on the scene. He hadn’t had a text or phone call or email from DJ saying that. In fact, since late March, she hadn’t reached out to him once. Previously, he’d received the odd email from her, funny memes that made him laugh, silly selfies she took.
Matt frowned, remembering that her friends were worried about her, that they thought something was wrong. Was she sick? Busy? Annoyed?
Or, worse, done with him, with what they had?
His phone beeped again and this time it was a text message. The distinct tone told him who it was from.
Hi. I’m not ready. Can I take some more time?
Sure, he replied. No pressure. I’m in town until after Christmas, unless something urgent comes up.
