on him.
“Yes,” he said. “I was engaged.”
She didn’t scoot away, but it was like he could feel the distance between them increase.
“Sarah Polk,” he said, leaning back on his hands. “We were engaged for several months. I met her when I was doing some writing in Sydney. She’s a surfer. I landed a profile piece on her. We hit it off. I’d been alone for a really long time. We had a few things in common and I was staying in Sydney for awhile. So, we were together.”
He paused, wondered what was going through her head, wondering if she was mad at him or bewildered or a hundred other things.
“We dated for about six months,” he said. “She really wanted to get married. She thought it would be good for her career. Make her more stable, more appealing to sponsors. I was…ambivalent. But she stayed on me and I started to feel guilty. Not exactly sure why, but like I was leading her on or something. So, I finally asked her. Over dinner one night. Nothing special or out of the ordinary. I didn’t even have a ring.”
Claire shifted on the bed. He knew it was making her uncomfortable and he hated that.
“But my heart wasn’t in it. She was doing all the planning and I was just along for the ride. Mainly because I knew I didn’t love her. I felt like a huge jerk. And she started to see it, too. Asked me if I was in love with her.” He sighed. “Had to tell her no.”
He remembered the look in Sarah’s eyes when he’d been honest. Like he’d ripped her heart out. He’d felt like the smallest person on the planet.
“So I told her I couldn’t go through with it,” he said. “That I didn’t want to get married to her.”
“You broke it off?” Claire asked.
He nodded.
Claire’s mouth twisted and she folded her hands in her lap. “That’s not what I read.”
He chewed his lip and stared at his feet. “Yeah, the announcement. See, Sarah was also very concerned about how all of it would be perceived. She thought it might hurt her endorsements or some crap like that. I don’t know. But she got out in front of the story. Her PR guy released a statement saying she’d broken off the engagement. Can’t even remember the reason they concocted. And, honestly, I didn’t care. It didn’t matter to me. I didn’t want to be with her.”
Claire shifted again on the bed. “Why not? I mean, I saw pictures of her. She’s stunning. Totally gorgeous. Why wouldn’t you…”
He cut her off.
“Because she wasn’t you, Claire,” he said, his voice raised. He ran his fingers through his hair, shook his head like he couldn’t figure out how to explain. “Just like every other woman I’ve dated for ten years, she wasn’t you. Sure, I could find things I liked about them. But then I’d compare them to you and all of a sudden, they’d look different. Less attractive. Less intelligent. Less funny. Less whatever. Sarah was as close as I could find. But in the end?” He stared at her. “She wasn’t Claire Woodward.”
She sat for a moment, her eyes wide, her mouth slightly open. He waited and for one horrified moment, he thought he’d said too much. Scared her and ruined things for good.
But then she leaned over to him. Hesitantly, she put her hands on his shoulders and kissed him. The butterflies were back in his stomach. He found her waist and pulled her to him, heard her groan softly. She kissed him harder, her tongue flicking at his lips. He pulled his mouth away from hers and buried his face in her neck, pulling her in even tighter, kissing the soft skin beneath her ear. Her fingers tightened on his arm.
He pulled back, brushed her lips with his. “Claire,” he whispered.
She murmured something unintelligible, her hands moving to his chest, then to his neck, her body pushing into his.
He found her mouth again, volts of electricity firing through his body.
Her hands found the bow tie and he felt it unclip.
His hands found the zipper at the back of her dress and he pulled down on
“Yes,” he said. “I was engaged.”
She didn’t scoot away, but it was like he could feel the distance between them increase.
“Sarah Polk,” he said, leaning back on his hands. “We were engaged for several months. I met her when I was doing some writing in Sydney. She’s a surfer. I landed a profile piece on her. We hit it off. I’d been alone for a really long time. We had a few things in common and I was staying in Sydney for awhile. So, we were together.”
He paused, wondered what was going through her head, wondering if she was mad at him or bewildered or a hundred other things.
“We dated for about six months,” he said. “She really wanted to get married. She thought it would be good for her career. Make her more stable, more appealing to sponsors. I was…ambivalent. But she stayed on me and I started to feel guilty. Not exactly sure why, but like I was leading her on or something. So, I finally asked her. Over dinner one night. Nothing special or out of the ordinary. I didn’t even have a ring.”
Claire shifted on the bed. He knew it was making her uncomfortable and he hated that.
“But my heart wasn’t in it. She was doing all the planning and I was just along for the ride. Mainly because I knew I didn’t love her. I felt like a huge jerk. And she started to see it, too. Asked me if I was in love with her.” He sighed. “Had to tell her no.”
He remembered the look in Sarah’s eyes when he’d been honest. Like he’d ripped her heart out. He’d felt like the smallest person on the planet.
“So I told her I couldn’t go through with it,” he said. “That I didn’t want to get married to her.”
“You broke it off?” Claire asked.
He nodded.
Claire’s mouth twisted and she folded her hands in her lap. “That’s not what I read.”
He chewed his lip and stared at his feet. “Yeah, the announcement. See, Sarah was also very concerned about how all of it would be perceived. She thought it might hurt her endorsements or some crap like that. I don’t know. But she got out in front of the story. Her PR guy released a statement saying she’d broken off the engagement. Can’t even remember the reason they concocted. And, honestly, I didn’t care. It didn’t matter to me. I didn’t want to be with her.”
Claire shifted again on the bed. “Why not? I mean, I saw pictures of her. She’s stunning. Totally gorgeous. Why wouldn’t you…”
He cut her off.
“Because she wasn’t you, Claire,” he said, his voice raised. He ran his fingers through his hair, shook his head like he couldn’t figure out how to explain. “Just like every other woman I’ve dated for ten years, she wasn’t you. Sure, I could find things I liked about them. But then I’d compare them to you and all of a sudden, they’d look different. Less attractive. Less intelligent. Less funny. Less whatever. Sarah was as close as I could find. But in the end?” He stared at her. “She wasn’t Claire Woodward.”
She sat for a moment, her eyes wide, her mouth slightly open. He waited and for one horrified moment, he thought he’d said too much. Scared her and ruined things for good.
But then she leaned over to him. Hesitantly, she put her hands on his shoulders and kissed him. The butterflies were back in his stomach. He found her waist and pulled her to him, heard her groan softly. She kissed him harder, her tongue flicking at his lips. He pulled his mouth away from hers and buried his face in her neck, pulling her in even tighter, kissing the soft skin beneath her ear. Her fingers tightened on his arm.
He pulled back, brushed her lips with his. “Claire,” he whispered.
She murmured something unintelligible, her hands moving to his chest, then to his neck, her body pushing into his.
He found her mouth again, volts of electricity firing through his body.
Her hands found the bow tie and he felt it unclip.
His hands found the zipper at the back of her dress and he pulled down on
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