Completely Captivated Page 2

  Aaron didn’t answer audibly. He only slightly shook his head to indicate no. He listened intently as Christa continued recanting their story through her tears. The tears that were now soaking Aaron’s hands as they held her face. Her eyes, pleading with him, held his gaze steadfast, and he briefly wondered if she could read his thoughts. Without a conscious decision, Aaron’s thumb lightly grazed across her face and wiped away one tear as it fell from her eyes. It was quickly replaced by another.

  “You picked out my rings—the diamond engagement ring and the diamond-circled wedding band. When you found them, you told me to always remember one thing.” Christa stopped talking for a second to try to control the sob that was threatening to break free.

  Aaron furrowed his brow, his eyes pinched together in the corners, silently asking her what that one thing was while he continued to watch her with rapt attention. He allowed some small amount of emotion to shine through his eyes.

  Pity. He pities me. If that’s what it takes to get through to him, I can endure pity for a short time.

  “You said,” she started and stopped to swallow a sob. “You said if I ever gave these rings back to you, it meant I was giving your love back. You said if I did that, I’d never get your love back again. You told me to hold on no matter what happened—to hold on to our love and never give it back.”

  Aaron’s jaw muscle ticked from the hard grit he held. His breaths were quick and shallow, uncertainty and mistrust marring his handsome face. But he couldn’t remove his hands from her face. Despite the terrible thoughts flying through his mind, he couldn’t break the connection with her once he touched her. Everything about her had been his weakness. Her purity. Her innocence. Her admiration of him. Had it all been a lie? His eyes could no longer conceal the upsurge of emotion that flowed through him.

  When she noticed the change in his demeanor, a seed of hope blossomed in her chest that she was getting through to him. Perhaps he did remember but suddenly had cold feet when the weekend ended and reality hit him. One thought after another swirled through Christa’s mind while she tried to make sense of it all.

  Did he have a change of heart?

  Did he think getting married was a huge mistake?

  Am I not good enough for him?

  “Is this what you want, Aaron? You honestly don’t want to be married to me? You don’t want me at all?” Christa asked, leaving the tears to flow freely and her love for him to shine in her eyes.

  Aaron maintained eye contact with her—gazing deeply into her eyes, looking for something, before his eyes followed the trail of her tears to where his hands cradled her face. He looked hard at the moisture gathered there. His gut told him one thing. This was no act—no one could cry that hard, that much, and be faking her feelings. It wasn’t possible.

  “I think it’s best for both of us to end it now,” he finally answered on a whisper.

  He noted that her tears increased after his declaration, and the warm glow that shone in her eyes was slowly extinguished. He watched in slow motion as she reached up, wrapped her small fingers around his large ones, and dragged his hands off her face. The immediate emptiness slammed into him, driving deep into his core. He was losing her, losing his love, possibly even losing his destiny. Something vitally important was gone instantaneously, something he feared he’d never feel again.

  Life had been hard for Christa, but she was no shrinking violet. She’d never felt such pain and despair. She had no doubt it would take her a lifetime to heal from the blow he’d dealt, but she didn’t have it in her to roll over and give up. She reined in the minor breakdown Aaron and Lance had already witnessed, swallowed the broken heart that now resided in her throat, and straightened her spine.

  “I’m not signing those papers,” Christa stated with firmness but was quickly interrupted by Lance’s angry growl before she could finish her sentence.

  “We will see you in court in a couple of years, then!” Lance bellowed.

  “I wasn’t finished!” Christa yelled back before returning her gaze to Aaron, instantly softening, but maintaining her inner determination.

  “As I was saying, I’m not signing those papers. Draw up a new agreement. I don’t want anything from Aaron. I don’t want his money. I don’t want a house or a car or his gifts. I will agree to the divorce when you’ve taken all that out.”

  Looking down at her hands, she stared at the beautiful wedding rings for what felt like an eternity. She was still close enough to him that she could feel the weight of Aaron’s stare on her like an iron anvil resting on her shoulders. From the corner of her eye, she knew he was also looking at her rings—the rings he chose for her. She mustered all the courage she could find as her right hand found her left ring finger. Her hands visibly trembled when she deliberately removed the beautiful diamond rings that symbolized their union.

  Christa took Aaron’s hand in hers, turned it over, and placed the rings in the center of his palm.

  “I’m not giving your love back to you, Aaron. You’re taking your love away from me. All your money, your houses, and your cars—they’re all just worthless junk to me without this,” she said as she closed his fist over “his love,” her wedding rings. “I won’t fight you over the divorce. If you don’t want me, don’t love me, there’s nothing to fight for.” For all the boldness she tried to project, inside she only felt defeated and crushed beyond repair.

  Christa rose from her chair, and Aaron’s eyes followed her every movement. She wiped the remaining tears from her face and dried her hands on her jeans. Looking at Lance, she spoke clearly. “I assume you’ll contact me when you have the new papers ready for me to sign?”

  Lance cleared his throat, obviously surprised by this odd turn of events. “Yes. Yes, I’ll be in contact. It’ll probably take about a week, though, because I have previous obligations to attend to first. I’d really prefer that we get something in writing from you today.”

  Christa quickly picked up the pen, drew lines through the settlement portion of the legal papers, put a big, fat zero in its place, and scribbled her initials beside it.

  “Will that be good enough for now?”

  Lance simply nodded, stunned, and for once in his life, speechless.

  “If you honestly believe he’s been drugged for the last three days, you should get him to the hospital to be tested. He may need medication to counteract any further effects.” Christa’s remarks were made to Lance, but she couldn’t keep the true concern for Aaron out of her voice. “If he was drugged, it wasn’t by my hand. I would never hurt him.”

  Aaron couldn’t stop watching her every move. He was completely mesmerized by her, but he knew he had to break the spell. She had more natural beauty in one little pinky than all the professional models he’d “dated” combined. Her long, thick blond hair draped loosely over her shoulders—her shoulders that stood proud even when she wanted to break down.

  Her petite frame and stature were dwarfed by his, but somehow, she had fit perfectly into his side. Her hand fit his like it was made for him and him alone. Her expressive brown eyes held nothing back, and she gave her love to him freely. Even at that moment, when she was hurt beyond measure, he had no doubt if he asked for forgiveness, she’d give it without question.

  She was more honest, giving, and loving than anyone in his life, but he was pushing her away. She was the light in his dark, dreary world, and he was extinguishing her flame. He couldn’t shake the feeling that she was the epitome of all that was good and pure, and he was the exact opposite. The sins of his past wouldn’t let him forget what he’d done. When it came to personal relationships, his judgment had been clouded, his heart jaded. He couldn’t trust his decisions or feelings, and he’d learned to bury them over the years. Regardless of the emotions she evoked, he couldn’t allow himself to give in.

  Christa wiped her face again, reeled in her emotions, and stepped toward the door. She was only a few feet away from Aaron, but it may as well have been miles. Christa was simply tryin
g to keep her composure until she could get back to her small apartment and have a total breakdown in private. She didn’t want the workers in the pretentious office to see the telltale signs of her ugly crying—red-rimmed, puffy, bloodshot eyes, red nose, and tear-streaked cheeks. Her sole focus now was to get to the elevators as quickly as possible, but Lance’s next comment stopped her dead in her tracks.

  “Ms. Lanes, there’s one more delicate subject we need to discuss before you leave.” Lance was almost hesitant, and he nervously cleared his throat. Christa knew whatever was coming next couldn’t be good.

  “And what’s that? What more could you possibly want from me?” she asked incredulously as she whirled around to fully face him.

  Lance cleared his throat again, something she noticed he did when he wasn’t comfortable. “I need you to list anyone with whom you’ve ever had sexual relations. In the event you try to claim that you’re pregnant before this divorce is final, I assure you we will require a vast measure of tests to be performed to confirm paternity.”

  Lance knew demanding that information was a far stretch if it came down to a fight in a court of law. She didn’t have legal representation present, and they didn’t have a prenuptial agreement. He knew he didn’t have a valid reason for requesting this information at this point, but he was banking on the fact that she had no legal knowledge or training.

  She didn’t know the wicked ways in which he could use this information against her if she later changed her mind and pursued the path to gain a full half of Aaron’s considerable assets. But he needed to make sure his brother and their fortune were safe and secure from any gold-digging harlots.

  Lance pushed a blank sheet of paper across the table in her direction. She looked from Lance to Aaron, clearly unsure of what she should do, and silently praying that Aaron would come to her rescue. But he sat stone silent, patiently waiting for her to complete the embarrassing and humiliating task Lance had asked of her.

  Christa stepped to the table and scribbled a couple of words before shoving the paper back at Lance. He balked when he read the paper. “Ms. Lanes, I need you to list everyone.”

  “I did,” she responded indignantly, then turned her head to look Aaron squarely in the eye.

  Unable to contain his curiosity of what the paper held any longer, Aaron grabbed the paper from Lance’s grip. He couldn’t believe his eyes. He looked from the paper to Christa’s face, closely examining her while he tried to come to terms with what he saw.

  “It only has my name on this paper,” Aaron stuttered disbelievingly.

  “I know. I was waiting for the right man. I told you that on our wedding night,” she said as the blush crept up her face. If Aaron had to guess, he would say she was clearly remembering their first night together. The night he couldn’t remember at all. He suddenly wished he could remember that night more than any other night he’d ever spent in a woman’s arms.

  Aaron stared back down at his name on the paper. The shame and guilt immediately started building in his chest. He knew people—he could read them like a book. He knew in his gut that she was telling the truth. She was still so young at twenty-two, mostly isolated and completely introverted, and didn’t engage with anyone outside her small circle before he came along and charmed her. She’d been a virgin until he took that away from her. On top of ruining her life, he was divorcing her after not even remembering marrying her.

  Aren’t I quite the catch? he thought to himself. She’ll be better off without me.

  When he finally looked up, he noticed the door to Lance’s office was standing wide open, and Christa was gone. Her rings were still in one of his clutched fists, and the paper that contained only his name was in the other.

  And Aaron was completely alone.

  Table for Two

  April

  “Christa, the delivery man is here. Can you watch the front while I handle our delivery?” Allie asked.

  “Sure, Allie. I got it,” Christa responded.

  Allie Barker was Christa’s best friend and only employee at her coffee shop and bakery, The Sweet Spot, but somehow, they made it work together day after day. When the small shop in the high-rent district of an influential San Francisco neighborhood became available at an amazingly affordable price, Christa took it as a sign that it was meant for her. The fact that it had a ready-to-use gourmet chef kitchen was an additional bonus.

  She thought if she could get her business going with fast and easy treats first, the kitchen would be perfect for catering larger events later. She had a five-year plan and was determined to see every last detail through to fruition. She was so involved in her thoughts about those plans, and how her business was performing, she didn’t hear the bell over the door chime when the next customers walked in.

  When she looked up, she was pulled into the deepest, most delicious sea of blue ever to grace a man’s face. He was more than handsome—he was drop-dead gorgeous. His blue eyes sparkled with mischief, his smile was warm and contagious. She felt her own cheeks lifting in response.

  His dark black hair was naturally messy and sexy, perfect for the obligatory finger-gripping during wild, swinging-from-the-rafters sex. His face was covered in just the right amount of five-o’clock shadow. He was tall, with broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and had a finely sculpted chest, if the shirt stretched tight across his shoulders was any indication. He had just the right amount of muscular build to be athletic.

  Unfortunately, he’d walked in with an equally beautiful woman by his side.

  As if I had a chance with him anyway, Christa thought to herself.

  She pasted her best hostess smile on her face and greeted her new customers, mentally reminding herself she needed the clientele more than she needed a date.

  “Hello. Welcome to The Sweet Spot. What can I get you?” she asked cheerfully.

  “Hello.” The sexy, baritone voice was like smooth velvet to her ears. “Can we get a large regular coffee and a medium skinny white chocolate mocha, please?”

  “Sure. Just have a seat, and I’ll bring it out to you. Anything from the pastry case?” Christa offered, practicing her salesperson skills.

  The tall stick figure that accompanied the Adonis standing before her replied with disdain dripping from her lips. “Oh, those things have a million carbs. Keep them away from me.”

  As if on cue, the handsome man responded with the opposite. “They look delicious. How about one of those croissants—toasted, with plenty of butter on the side?”

  Christa wasn’t certain, but she would’ve sworn he ordered the pastry just to antagonize his date. She rang up the sale, quickly filled the coffee cups, and delivered the order to their table.

  “Aaron, really, did you have to get the croissant? It’s the biggest pastry in the case,” the stick figure whined.

  Aaron picked up the pastry and sank his teeth in. “Oh my God!”

  Christa had turned her back to him the second before she heard his exclamation. She whirled around, placed her hand on his shoulder, and leaned in close to him. “What’s wrong?”

  He almost laughed at the concern on her face. “Absolutely nothing is wrong. This is the best croissant I’ve ever had. Where do you buy these?”

  He watched her beautiful face turn the loveliest shade of pink as her embarrassment set in. She quickly snatched her hand from his shoulder and straightened her back. “Umm, I don’t buy them. I make them here.”

  “I’m impressed—honestly. This is heaven. It literally melts in my mouth.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.” Her reply was as warm and honest as her returned smile.

  “I’ll have to come here every day now,” he said with a playful wink and a knowing smile. A smile that said he knew affected her and he knew she wished she could hide her reaction from him.

  He’d always had the same effect on the ladies, and he’d frequently used his good looks to his advantage. He’d learned to read the signs; he knew when they were interested in him, and what they wante
d from him. He’d give them a good time for a night or so, but no one ever held his interest for too long.

  As he watched her walk away, he contemplated how he wouldn’t mind that little lady being next on his list. He was well-known in the influential celebrity and business circuits and often dated high-profile models. Dated was a generous term. He wined, dined, and sixty-nined them, then sent them on their way. His work had him hip-deep in models on a daily basis. Models that were long-legged, skinny, and wouldn’t eat more than a couple of pieces of dry lettuce to avoid gaining an ounce.

  But everything about her seemed to contradict his normal type. Her name tag read Christa. She couldn’t have been over five foot three barefoot. She didn’t have long legs like his current companion, the one whose name he’d already forgotten. Christa had curves in all the right places, like a real woman should. Her breasts were small but perky, her legs were short but sleek and muscular, and her perfectly round ass—he could feast on it all day.

  Her hair was long and blond, but it was her amazing brown eyes that held the magic. They captivated him, reached out and physically touched him, holding him as her hostage. For the first time in his adult life, he decided he’d gladly give full control over to someone else. The term love at first sight had always been a cliché to him. He’d argued there was no way a person could fall in love when they first met. But the feeling that stirred in his chest told him this pure, natural beauty was a threat to his one-night-only rule.

  He watched her as she returned to the counter, took a few orders, and gave every customer her personal touch as she filled their orders. He was amazed at how she made each person feel like a welcome guest in her home, and they were all glad to be there. His eyes followed as she continued to move around the room, talking to her patrons as if they were long-lost friends. She adjusted pastries in the case and refilled the carafe with hot coffee with ease and care.

  She returned to his table a few minutes later. “Can I warm you up?”