A whole lot of things rushed through her head. Shopping. Movies. Dating.
That thought reminded her of last night. Made her body hot all over. The way he’d touched her, the things he’d made her feel … amazing didn’t even begin to cover it. But then he’d rejected her. Her. Not just sex, but her specifically.
She wished she knew why. She also wished she didn’t. And she wished he wasn’t so determined to make it up to her. Because she was certain that’s what this was: a Band-Aid for the boo-boo he’d inflicted by turning away from her.
He would need a much bigger Band-Aid than a day out to erase the sting of that humiliation. Yet, perversely, she still wanted to be with him. To be near him. To spend the day with him.
“Nothing,” she said.
“There was nothing you weren’t allowed to do?”
“No. I mean … I was never allowed to just do nothing. Even now, I practice all the time. And what for? For concerts I’ll never give? I was never allowed to have a day that was just mine. If we ever shopped it was for my mother, wherever we ate, that was for her too. We never went to the beach because she hated getting sand in her shoes.”
“Then that’s what we’re doing today.”
“What?”
“Nothing. Nothing and everything. Whatever you want.”
That conjured up images of his hands on her body, his lips against hers. Why she still wanted that after he’d made it very clear he didn’t was beyond her. Silence filled the room along with a tension so thick she was pretty sure she could eat it with a spoon.
“Ethan,” she said slowly. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because I want to. Because maybe I need to do nothing too.” He looked as confused by that as she felt.
“So we’ll do nothing then.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Noelle looked down at her vanilla ice cream melting steadily in the sun. She’d been sitting in front of the ocean, watching the waves crawl up the shore, then recede, while she indulged in her frozen treat.
Ethan had gone off to take a call, and she finally felt like she could breathe.
The whole day had been … well, it had almost been fun. And would have had zero value as far as her mother was concerned. They’d taken a walk through a historic beach town, eaten lunch at a small fish and chip shack, then got ice cream at a shop right on the ocean.
Perfection. Not exactly relaxing the way she’d hoped it might be, but being near Ethan just wasn’t. It ramped her up, made her feel like she was on high alert, made her skin feel extra sensitive, like her blood was flowing closer to the surface. Like everything was more real and more fantastic all at the same time.
“I’ll take some of that ice cream.” Ethan returned holding two water bottles, looking sexier than any man should in a pair of sandals and some board shorts. He sat next to her and she fought the urge to move closer. Or scoot away. She wasn’t sure which she wanted more. So she stayed where she was.
“You had yours. You ate it too fast,” she said, licking a drip from the side of the cone.
“And yours is melting. You need help.”
She laughed. “I assure you, I don’t.” She lapped at another drip.
“While I love watching you do that, my professional opinion remains the same.” He smiled and she had a vision of the charming playboy she was certain he could be. But behind that, deeper, there was a flicker of heat in his eyes that went beyond simple flirtation.
“I …”
He leaned in and her heart stopped. He was so close to her, close enough that if she just dipped her head, she could brush her lips against his.
He moved first, angling his head, but not the way she’d been anticipating. He took a long lick of her ice cream cone before leaning back again. “Thanks,” he said, his voice rough.
Her hand was shaking from anticipation. From the fact that watching his tongue sliding over the ice cream had actually been pretty hot. She didn’t know herself right now.
No. That wasn’t true. She was getting to know herself. A sexual encounter on a piano bench and an ice cream cone on the beach at a time. It was like finding out there was a whole different side to herself when she’d always thought there had only been one. She’d been all about the piano. All about performing. But this was living. Real living.
“This has been … this has been great. Thank you,” she said, still trying to catch her breath from the sexual shock of watching him lick her ice cream cone. “Sorry I unloaded on you earlier. About my mother.”
“We all need to let it out sometimes.”
“We both lost the parent lottery, didn’t we?”
“Seems so.”
“Will you be happy when you get the resorts? I mean, will that be it? Will you win?”
“Is that a trick question?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Not a trick. I’m really wondering. Because I want my … I want my life back, Ethan. Not exactly like it was. I want beach days. But I also want to perform. I want the recognition, the hard work, the reward. The money. I don’t … I don’t know what to do without it, and I have to believe that if you have a goal like that, when you reach it you’ll be satisfied.”
Ethan looked toward the sun glinting off the crystalline waves, his brow furrowing. “I don’t know the answer to that. I don’t really care. I’m more than happy to keep fighting for the next thing. Bigger and better.”
“That sounds … exhausting.”
“More exhausting than doing piano drills for the rest of your life?”
“Infinitely more.”
“There’s not really anything more to life, Noelle. You keep going, you get more. I doubt you’ll be satisfied just playing again. How many people do you need in the auditorium, and after you fill up a large one, won’t you need a stadium? That’s how it works.”
“I don’t …” Noelle’s voice trailed off. She didn’t like what he was saying. Because it was frighteningly close to what she feared might be the truth. That there would be no satisfaction in ‘reclaiming’ her career. That she would get back to that life and find it as empty as the one she was living now. “I don’t believe it. I won’t need more. I’ll be happy sitting at the piano, playing.”
“Maybe you think sitting at the piano will satisfy you. But then, you do know how to have fun on a piano bench, don’t you?”
His words hit her like a physical blow, the sudden venom in his tone shocking her. She stood, brushing sand off the back of her shorts. “Why would … why would you say that to me?”
“Noelle—”
“I want to go. Today was … fun. And it was neat to kind of play hooky from life. But we both have a plan. And hanging out on the beach just isn’t in it.”
He nodded. “Not for either of us.”
“I don’t think hanging out on piano benches is in it for us either.” She turned and headed back to the path that led to the teeming boardwalk area. A little noise would be good. A little something to keep her mind off the raw wound in her chest.
How could he say that? As if she let men touch her like that all the time? Though, he might think she did.
Well, so what if she did? She knew he was an epic playboy, and if she wanted to