Noah
Scarlett,
How are you, my love? Are you as miserable as I am? I found us a house off-station. Now all that remains are your orders and we’ll be together again. I’ll wait forever for you, Scarlett. Forever…
My arms and back ached as I rolled my shoulders and neck behind the desk. The storm had dumped three feet of snow over the last two days, and it had taken me the better part of two hours to dig out Georgia’s house. Could I have called the plow company? Absolutely, but winter in Colorado made my favorite workout—climbing—impossible, so I’d seen it as an opportunity. I’d also gravely underestimated the length of the driveway.
“Busy?” Georgia popped her head into the open office door, and I forgot every single sore muscle. “I don’t want to interrupt your flow, but I didn’t hear typing so I thought this might be an opportune moment for lunch.” Her smile would have knocked me on my ass if I hadn’t already been sitting.
“You can have whatever moments you want.” I meant it, too. Whatever she wanted, she could have—including me.
“Well, it’s not much, but I whipped up some grilled cheese.” She opened the door with her hip, carrying a plate with two sandwiches, and a glass of what I knew was unsweetened iced tea.
“That sounds amazing, thank you.” I took the coaster from the top drawer and had it on the desk before she reached me. Funny how we’d both adapted so easily to the needs of the other over these last few weeks.
“You’re very welcome. Thanks for digging us out.” She put the plate to the side of my laptop, and the tea on the coaster as I wheeled the chair back a few inches.
“My pleasure.” I gripped her hips and pulled her into my lap. God, it felt
good to be able to do that—to touch her whenever I wanted. The last two days had cut us off from most of civilization and allowed us to do nothing but indulge in pleasing each other. This was my idea of heaven.
“This isn’t going to help you get the book done.” She smiled, looping her arms around my neck.
“No, but it’s going to help me get my hands on you.” I slid one hand up the nape of her neck and into her hair, then kissed her until we were both breathless. My need for her hadn’t been sated; if anything, it had only grown. I was completely and totally out of my depth with her, with everything I wanted to happen between us.
The first time I’d seen her, I’d known, and every time I kissed her, it only became more apparent—she was it for me. The one. The endgame. It didn’t matter that we lived a thousand miles apart or that she was still healing from her divorce. I’d wait. I’d prove myself. I’d do exactly as I promised and win her over, not just her body, but her heart.
Her tongue danced with mine, and she groaned softly when I sucked it into my mouth. We weren’t just well-matched in bed, we were combustible, constantly catching fire for the other. For the first time in my life, I knew I was never going to get enough. This was something incapable of burnout.
“Noah,” she whimpered, and my body was there, ready. I was hers to do with as she pleased, knowing it would sure as hell please me at the same time. “You’re killing me.”
“It’s a pretty sweet way to go.” I moved my lips down her neck, running my tongue over the sensitive lines and inhaling the scent of bergamot and citrus. She always smelled so damned good.
She sighed, rolling her head back, and I kissed the hollow of her throat. “What are we doing?” she asked, her fingers gripping the back of my
neck.
“Whatever we want,” I answered against her skin. “I’m serious,” she whispered.
That got my attention. I lifted my head and drew back slightly, studying her expression. Half of what Georgia said never came out of her mouth. It
was in her eyes, the set of her mouth, the tension in her shoulders. It might have taken me a few months to learn her cues, but I was catching on, and she was worried.
“We’re doing whatever we want,” I repeated, shifting my hands to her waist, and ignoring the nearly painful throbbing just beneath my belt.
“You live in New York.”
“I do.” It wasn’t something I could deny. “You used to.” My tone softened, the hope I usually kept to myself sneaking in that last bit.
“Never again.” She dropped her gaze. “I went for Damian. I was never happy there. You, on the other hand, love it.”
“I do. It’s home.” Or was it? Could it be my home if Georgia wasn’t there? If I had to leave her in these mountains she loved?
“Your family’s there.” She stroked her knuckles down my cheek. It had been over a week since I’d shaved, and my stubble had moved into beard territory.
“They are.”
She swallowed, her eyebrows knitting.
“Tell me what you’re thinking, Georgia. Don’t make me guess.” My grip tightened on her slightly, as if I could keep her from slipping away.
Still, she stayed silent, her turbulent thoughts manifesting in the subtle tightening of her jaw.
Maybe she needs you to go first. Right. Time to tell her just how deep I was in this, how willing I was to make it work, and how unwilling I was to let her go.
“Look, Georgia, I’m wild about—”
“I think we should just call this what it really is,” she blurted. We spoke at the same time, her words halting mine.
“And what is it?” I asked slowly. “A fling.” She nodded.
My jaw snapped shut, my teeth clicking with the force. A fling? What the hell? I’d had my share of flings. This was not one of them.
“We’re attracted to each other, working in close quarters… It was bound
to happen, and don’t get me wrong. I’m glad it did.” She lifted her brows and her cheeks pinkened. “Really, really glad it did.”
“Me too…”
“Good. I’d hate to feel like this was all one-sided,” she muttered.
“Trust me, it’s not.” And if it was, I was the one on the heavily invested side, which was a first.
“Okay, then. Let’s keep it simple. I’m not ready for anything big. I can’t just jump from one serious relationship right to the next. That’s not who I want to be.” Her nose crinkled. “Even if I did just dive from Damian’s bed to yours—which is much better, by the way. Everything about you is better.” Her gaze skimmed my face. “So much better it’s scary.”
“You don’t have to be scared.” I didn’t bother pointing out that it had been over a year since she’d been in Ellsworth’s bed, because that wasn’t what this was about, not really. Her mother. She didn’t want to be her mother. “We can keep this as simple as you need.”
In that second, staring into those crystal blue eyes, I realized I was head over fucking heels in love with Georgia Stanton. Her mind, her compassion, her strength, her grace and grit—I loved everything about her. But I also knew she wasn’t ready for my love.
“Simple,” she repeated, shifting in my lap but clinging to my shoulders as a tentative smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “Simple is good.”
“Simple it is.” For now. What I needed was time.
“Okay. Good. Then we agree.” She pressed a quick kiss to my lips, then slid off my lap. “Oh, you were asking about the original manuscript for The Diplomat’s Daughter, right?”
“Right.” I nodded, feeling more than a little off-balance. We’d agreed that this would be simple? Or was there more inferred?
“I pulled it out of the upstairs closet,” she said, taking a shirt box from off the office bookshelves and putting it on an empty patch of desk. “She has all her originals up there.”
“Thank you.” I knew what she was trusting me with, and on any other day I would have been ecstatic to dig further into the oddest literary puzzle
I’d ever stumbled onto, but my head wasn’t quite in the game.
“I have a phone call with the lawyers to finalize Gran’s foundation in a few minutes, so I’ll leave you to it.” She came around the desk and kissed me, quick and hard, before walking toward the door.
“Georgia?” I called out just before she reached the foyer.
“Hmm?” She turned and lifted her brows, so damned beautiful that my heart actually ached.
“What exactly did we just agree to?” I asked. “Between us?”
“A book-writing fling,” she answered with a smile, like it was obvious. “Simple, no strings, and over when you finish the book.” She shrugged. “Right?”
Over when the book was finished.
My hands curled into fists over the arms of the chair. “Sure. Right.”
Her phone rang, and she tugged the device from her back pocket. “See you when you hit your word count.” She flashed me a smile, answered the call, and closed the door all in one smooth motion.
Now our relationship was on the same deadline as the book, and sure, I’d always planned on leaving after I finished, but being with Georgia had changed things…at least for me.
Shit. The one thing I needed to win her over was time, and I was closer to finishing than she knew. Closer than I was willing to admit.
…
I finished the book—both versions—four weeks later. Then I sat in the office and stared at two files on my desktop.
My time was up.
My deadline was the day after tomorrow.
I’d done it, somehow satisfying both Georgia’s requirement and nailing mine, while keeping my contracted dates, and yet there was no feeling of pride or accomplishment, just sheer terror that I wouldn’t be able to hold on to the woman I’d fallen for.
I’d only had four weeks, and it wasn’t enough. Georgia was opening up, but the parts of her I needed to trust me were still boarded up tight. We were still a fling to her. Just when I thought she might change her mind, she’d mention making the best of what time we had, and now that time was over.
My phone rang and I answered it on speakerphone. “Hey, Adrienne.” “So you’re not coming home for Christmas?” my sister asked, more
than a little judgment in her tone.
“That is a complicated question.” I closed my laptop and pushed it to the far side of the desk. I’d deal with my existential crisis later.
“It’s really not. You’re either going to be in New York on December twenty-fifth, or you’re not.”
“I’m not sure yet.” I stood and arranged four of the shirt boxes I’d borrowed on the desk in front of me, then opened and nestled each of them inside their own lids. I was missing something here. Something right in front of me that was driving me up a wall. The manuscripts were from different points in Scarlett’s career. Her edited, published works were smoother, of course, but I couldn’t help but be fascinated by the stylistic differences between her earlier works and the later ones, couldn’t help but wonder if losing Jameson hadn’t just broken her heart, but changed her fundamentally.
Couldn’t help but wonder if the same would happen to me if I lost Georgia.
“It’s only three weeks away.”
“Three weeks and—” I did the mental math. “Four days.” “Exactly. You don’t think you’ll have the book done by then?”
My jaw flexed at the thought of lying to my sister. To anyone, really. “It’s not about the book.”
“It’s not? Wait, am I on speaker? Where’s Georgia?”
I laughed softly. “Which question would you like me to answer first?” “The last one.”
“She’s in town, working at her studio.” Georgia had been a sight to behold this last month. She worked tirelessly, overseeing the construction in
the front end of the studio, and completing pieces she wouldn’t let me see— wouldn’t let anyone see. She’d set the opening date for her birthday, January twentieth, and I wasn’t even sure I’d be here to see it, which was a swift kick to the gut.
“Nice. I bet she’s loving life out of the tabloids.”
“She is.” Which was just another reason she didn’t want to go back to New York.
“She hasn’t frosted you out yet?” There was a teasing lilt to my sister’s voice, and it wasn’t like she wasn’t aware of the rocky ground Georgia and I had started on.
“You should fly out here and meet her. She’s opening the studio next month with a party. She’s nothing like what you read in the gossip rags, Adrienne.” I sighed, shoving my hands through my hair, then taking the phone with me as I started to pace along the bookshelves. “She’s kind, smart, funny as hell, driven to help whoever she can. She’s never content to sit idle, she’s great with her best friend’s kids, and she has no problem putting me in my place, which I know you appreciate.” I glanced from picture to picture that lined Scarlett’s shelves, pausing on the photo album Georgia had left out. “She’s…” I couldn’t even put her into words.
“Holy shit, Noah. You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”
“She’s not ready for anything like that,” I said softly, flipping through the album.
“You are!” She damn near squealed in excitement.
“Drop it.” The last thing I needed was her filling Mom’s head. Adrienne scoffed. “Yeah right. Have you met me?”
“Fair point.” I rubbed the skin between my eyebrows. “The second I leave here, it’s over, and I don’t want it to be, but Ellsworth scarred the shit out of her.”
“So don’t leave,” Adrienne stated like it was the simplest answer. “Yeah, if it were only that easy. She said it herself: this is a book-writing
fling. Once the book is finished, so are we.” And it was done, just waiting to be attached in an email to Adam.
“Okay, so don’t finish the book?” she suggested, her voice pitching upward.
“Helpful.” I flipped to the wedding pictures and covered Ellsworth with my hand so only Georgia smiled out at me, then peered closer. She was happy, but that smile wasn’t as bright as the ones I’d been gifted with.
“I’m serious. Stay. Push your deadline back for once in your life. I’ll bring Mom here for Christmas, you can call in. Trust me, if this gets you married and settled—”
“Adrienne,” I warned.
“Eventually,” she amended. “Mom will be all about it. We both just want you to be happy, Noah. If Georgia Stanton makes you happy, then fight for it. Fight for her. Pretend you’re one of your own characters and help her fix whatever Ellsworth broke.”
“Are you done with your inspirational speech?” I teased halfheartedly. “Do you need me to launch into the rarity of finding someone to truly
love?”
“God, no.” I glanced back at the laptop. “Don’t count on me for Christmas. But I love you.”
“I love you, and I’ll forgive you for missing out if you give me a sister- in-law!”
“Bye, Adrienne.” I hung up, shaking my head and scoffing. If it were that easy to heal Georgia, I would have done it already.
I lifted my hand and stared down at Georgia’s wedding picture, hearing her words from that day play like a soundtrack. There’s a warning, a sound your heart makes the first time it realizes it’s no longer safe with the person you trusted.
It all came down to trust with Georgia. Ellsworth had broken hers so completely that she didn’t have any left. But she’d given me Scarlett’s story. She’d climbed the wall. She’d opened her home. She’d unabashedly offered her body without reservation. She trusted me with everything but her heart, because she’d been left, abandoned—
The first time…
“Oh, shit,” I muttered as it hit me. I never said he did.
I flew back through the album as her words hit home in a way they hadn’t when she’d said them. I passed her high school graduation, the birthday Ava had reappeared, and slowed when I’d backtracked as far as her first day of kindergarten.
The pictures just before showed Georgia living with Ava, her eyes bright, her smile a younger version of the dazzling one she gave me these days. Real love has to be choked out, held under the water until it stops kicking. And that’s exactly what the pictures showed year after year. The slow drowning of love.
It wasn’t Ellsworth who had broken Georgia—it was Ava.
Ava, who had disappeared, then shown up whenever it suited her. Whenever she needed something.
“If this were a book, what would you do?” I asked myself, flipping through the pages and landing on that twelfth birthday picture. “You’d use the past to heal the present.”
The studio opening—I could fly Ava in. If you’re still here in seven weeks. Georgia had already given her everything she wanted, and without ulterior motive… It could work. I could slowly start to repair the canyons Ava had left in Georgia, if I started with the cracks. I just had to make sure Ava wanted to be there for Georgia’s happiness alone.
I slammed the album shut, then took my seat at the desk, parted the boxes of manuscripts to pull my laptop in front of me, and opened it. How the hell was I going to convince her to let me stay another seven weeks?
I shot a healthy heaping of side-eye at the picture of Jameson and Scarlett that sat on the left side of the desk. “Any advice?” I asked him. “It’s not like I can fly her off into the sunset, and let’s be honest, you had a hell of a wingman in Constance.” It also hadn’t hurt that the pair had lived during a time where being reckless was a wise use of whatever time you had left.
I drummed my fingers on the desk, staring at the two finished files on my desktop.
If Jameson had won Scarlett by bending the rules…maybe the same would work to win his great-granddaughter.
I pulled out my phone and called Adam.
“Please tell me you’re about to send me the finished manuscript.” “Well, hello to you, too,” I drawled. “I’m still two days early.”
“You know the print deadline on this is tighter than my mother-in-law’s Spanx.” I heard his chair creak.
“Yeah, about that…” I cringed.
“Do not tell me that for the first time in your career, you’re going to blow a deadline. Not on this book. Do you know how hard it’s going to be to edit it? To constantly question if I’m messing with Scarlett-freaking- Stanton?” His voice pitched upward.
“You sound stressed. Have you been for a run since I left?” “You’re the reason my blood pressure is high in the first place.”
And I was about to ask him to raise it even higher, all so I had a shot at winning Georgia. What kind of selfish prick did that to his best friend? You, apparently.
“Noah, what’s going on?” Adam’s tone gentled.
“On a scale of one to ten, how good of friends would you say we are?
Because I’d probably go with—”
“You were the best man at my wedding. You’re my best friend. Now, are you talking to me as your editor? Or as my kid’s godfather?”
“Both.”
“Shit.” I could picture him rubbing his temples. “What do you need?” “Time.”
“You don’t have it.”
“Not mine. Yours. How do you feel about doing twice the work without twice the pay?” I held my breath, waiting for his answer.
“Explain.”
So I did. I laid it all out to the one person who had served as a linchpin in both my personal and professional life, barely finishing by the time I heard the garage door open. Georgia was home.
“Georgia’s back. Will you do it?”
“Damn it,” he muttered. “Yes, you know I’ll do it.” “Thank you.” Every muscle in my body sagged with relief.
“Don’t thank me,” he barked through the speakerphone. “I’ll get started on what’s already there, but you owe me an ending, Noah.”
The office door opened, and Georgia slipped her head in. “Bad time?” she whispered.
I shook my head, motioning for her to come in. “I know it’s a pain in the ass, but I promised.”
“Okay, but we’re going to run tight with the printers. You have the time you need, but you’d better be prepared for some rushed edits.”
Georgia’s brow puckered in concern as she unbuttoned her coat.
“I can handle it.” I’d handle anything that got me the time I needed with Georgia.
“You’d better. Oh, and Carmen told me to let you know that the kid’s Hanukkah presents got here. You know you didn’t have to do that, but thank you. We’ll miss you for the holidays, Noah.”
“Just keep running, Adam. I’d hate to leave you in the dust when I get back.” If I get back. We hung up and I pulled Georgia into my lap, sliding my hands beneath her coat and sweater to the warmth of her skin.
“What was that about?” she asked, brushing my hair out of my eyes. God, I loved this woman.
“Time,” I answered, kissing her softly. Now all I could do was pray that mortgaging my career had bought me enough.
Her eyes flew wide. “Oh God, your deadline. It’s this week, isn’t it? Is the book done?” Was that a hint of panic in her voice? Or was I just hearing what I wanted to?
“Not yet.” It wasn’t, at least that’s what I told myself to steal a little more time with her. Sure, it was written, but it wouldn’t be done until it was through edits. “Don’t worry. It’s just delivery. Adam’s juggling a few things on the calendar and starting with what we have so we don’t blow the print deadline while I’m getting these endings just right. Think you can stand
having me around for a little bit longer?” Semantics, but it still felt like a lie.
Because it was.
But the smile she gave me? Absolutely worth it.
