solid, not a body builder, but a swimmer with a broad chest and chiseled muscles that are visible through his light blue button down. His shirt is partially open where he’s taken off his tie, and taut smooth skin is peeking through the triangle at the top. The contrast between his dark hair and blue eyes makes my stomach flutter. His nose is slightly longer than it should be, but it complements his strong jaw and firm lips. He’s brilliant and it shows, intellect dancing in those sapphire blue eyes.
He’s married, I remind myself. But so far, he’s beating me in the battle to keep him at an arm’s length. Mentally I don’t want him here, but my body recognizes what we once had, what we so recently shared, and right now, my body is craving more.
“Were you always a two-timer? Did you cheat on me?”
He stills, his smile fading as he shakes his head, and sympathy swims in his pretty blue eyes. “No. Never.”
Taking a step closer, I take one back.
“I’m sorry,” he says, “I should have told you about Helen.” Not making another move in my direction, he searches my eyes, looking for some clue that I forgive him. But all I can focus on is the name Helen.
The wife has a name. The woman who gave him that wedding ring, the ring I accidentally stumbled upon in the bathroom Saturday morning, revealing that he wasn’t as available as he’d appeared. Suddenly, she’s not a distant being, but a real living breathing person, standing between me and the man I once thought was going to be my husband. The man I didn’t think I could ever live without.
It feels like I may faint, my head is spinning, my breathing jagged and uneven, and before I have a chance to turn and sit on my sofa, Matt has pulled me close, my cheek resting against his solid chest, his strong arms wrapping around me, holding me against his beating heart.
Somewhere, I find my voice. “Matt, you left me.”
“I did. And now, I’m back.” He releases his hold on my body and cups my face in the palms of his hands.
“Why?”
He looks at me in confusion.
“Why are you back? Why were you here last weekend if you’re married?”
I feel him stiffen, and I search his eyes. The sympathy swimming there gives me my answer. “You didn’t come back for me did you?”
He takes a deep breath and releases his hold on my face. “Today, yes.”
Pushing him away, I level a gaze at him. “I’m not talking about today! Last weekend, were you in town for me or not?”
No hesitation. “No. I was here for business. It was late, and I became unusually nostalgic. You were at Joe’s and every feeling I’ve tried to deny for the past five years came rushing back. I saw you sitting with Mia and Paige, just like old times, and I knew I royally fucked my life up.”
God, I feel sick. How many times has he been back to Santa Barbara and never bothered to find me?
“Addison,” he whispers. “Look at me.”
I shake my head.
“Addison—”
“You’re married,” I lash out.
A slight tic in his jaw and a hardening of his eyes lets me know I’ve hit a sore spot. “A slight technicality. One I plan to remedy.”
“She’s your wife. How can you talk about her like that?” I ask in disgust.
“Because I don’t love my wife. I love you, Addison. I’ve always loved you.”
One step is all it takes for him to be in front of me. He kisses me. His hands gently cup my cheeks, and my argument falls off my tongue. It’s sweet and tender and nothing like the ravenous way we attacked each other last Friday night.
Pulling slightly away, his eyes are filled with hope, and his thumbs make a constant sweeping motion along my skin. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you I was married. I never should have put you in that position.” He kisses me again, soft and tender, his lips barely grazing mine. “But Addy, I don’t regret last Friday night. I don’t regret coming here today, and I plan on fighting for you, finally fighting for us.” He clears his throat, and I find myself pushing Helen to the back of my mind as I focus on every word he says, every intonation in his voice, his devastating smile, his endless blue eyes, trying to remember a man who once consumed my every waking thought, a man who