Where Rivers Part by Kellie Coates Gilbert Page B

“Look, I’m sorry. It’s late and it was silly of me to—”
    Greer pulled her close. “Nonsense,” he whispered against her hair. “I’m here for you.”
    Juliet pushed the reservations from her mind and leaned against him, drawn to the warmth of another human being like a moth drawn to flame.
    She resisted telling him what had happened with her father. She kept news of the fiery exchange to herself, and the fact it left her broken inside—how much she’d wanted to move beyond the past, but couldn’t.
    She wouldn’t reveal how fragile she felt, and alone.
    Greer pulled back and gave her a worried frown. She could sense his mind at work and knew her face had betrayed her. He’d never seen this side of her. Matching his approach, she’d always been careful to guard against appearing anything but accomplished and skillful at handling her emotions.
    â€œI’m okay, really,” she assured him, reining in her feelings. “I just missed you. That’s all.” She followed him into the kitchen. “I need to get back to work. The walls are closing in, know what I mean?”
    He grabbed a liter of coconut water from the refrigerator. “Want some?”
    She shook her head and watched him extract a glass from the cupboard. “Speaking of, what have I been missing? At work, I mean.”
    He filled his glass. “We’ve been focusing on the Water Circus fulfillment, and we’re in talks to expand the original structure of that deal, which has us all crazy busy. But like I told you on the phone, there’s no urgent need for you to return. The lab staff seems to have everything covered.” He screwed the lid back on the bottle. “But I get what you’re saying. For some, work can often be a solace.”
    Juliet stared at his leather slippers while he returned the bottle to the nearly empty refrigerator.
    He was right. For people like them, work was as essential as air, the rest of life a distraction. She understood where she fit in the corporate world. Despite the politics, ambition and hard work would ultimately pay off. Simple rules. Juliet appreciated that.
    Suddenly, Greer stood in front of her. He placed his hand on her chin and made her face him. “Look, it’s okay to let your guard down. I care about you, you know.”
    But not enough to come to my mother’s funeral.
    Juliet pushed the intrusive thought from her mind. She and Greer weren’t soul mates. Their attraction was based on mutual respect, an understanding that neither would burden the other with emotional baggage. Their affinity for one another didn’t extend past complementary affection. That was all.
    She’d be smarter than to reveal the depth of her need. The emptiness she felt inside. The fear that hole would never be filled.
    Given that, she was as surprised as he when she looked into his eyes and pressed her lips against his, letting him taste the depth of her hunger.
    â€œStay the night,” he whispered, his voice husky. He took Juliet’s hand and led her out of the kitchen. And she let him. Anything not to be alone tonight.
    She squeezed his hand. “Uh . . . I’ll only be a minute.”
    He nodded and she headed down the hallway to his bathroom, with its wood-trimmed curved wall that served as a partition splitting the large space in two. On one side stood a walk-in shower lined with mosaic tiles in colors of the ocean and a full-height steam room. Juliet moved to the sink and vanity left of the curved wall. She leaned forward and examined her reflection in the mirror.
    No wonder Greer expressed concern. Her face looked like a train had wrecked just south of her hairline—her eyelids red and swollen, blotchy skin. By all indications, she appeared not to have slept in days.
    Juliet reached for a clean washcloth from the chrome rack mounted on the wall and ran the plush fabric under the water, then