Page 3 of Falling for the Enemy

“I have an early morning.”

Disappointment flashed in her blue eyes. “Maybe next week.”

“Sure.” Soren retrieved her wrap from the coat check and held her arm as they exited the restaurant.

Salt & Ember sprawled like a gilded fortress on the coast. Its stone facade carried decades of sea spray and winter storms without surrendering an inch. The harbor lighthouse swept its beam across the rocky banks in slow, patient arcs as he led Olivia to his car. Her arm rested on his with the emotional impact of a baguette.

He could take her home. The invitation had sat on the table since the second course, open and wanting, yet his cock couldn’t be less interested.

“Dinner was lovely, Soren.”

“The chef does a nice job,” he agreed, leading her to the passenger door of his black Escalade. When he reached for the handle, she turned, putting her back against the tinted glass and looking up at him.

“I know you said you have an early morning, but we don’t have to make it a late night. If you want, we can still go back to my place. Or yours.”

He forced a smile. “I wish I could, but I still have some paperwork to review in preparation for my meeting tomorrow.”

“Oh.” Her lashes lowered.

“Hey.” Soren lifted her chin. “Believe me, if it was something I could ignore, I might take you up on the offer, but I can’t. Not tonight.”

Her smile returned. “Rain check, then.”

He nodded, and she rose to press her lips to his jaw. He pulled back before she got carried away, opening the car door to guide her inside.

The September chill had chased away the last of the summer tourists, leaving the lot slightly empty for a Friday in Hideaway Bay. Tucked neatly off the rocky coast of Maine, their little coastal town embraced every festive season of the year, so it was only a matter of days before the fall festivities kicked in and the next crowd shuffled through.

Soon, beach-goers and coconut breezes would give way to pumpkin-spiced everything and leaf-peeping visitors. But during these rare weeks when seasons transitioned, the town was quieter than a mausoleum.

He preferred the distracting vibe, the seasonal hustle and bustle that came with hot coastal summers, festive autumns, and some of the best Christmas chaos on the East Coast. The current low murmur of locals alone left too much room for his mind to wander.

As he pulled onto the road, passing Salt & Ember once more, the lanterns along the cliff reflected into the black water below. Olivia would only be here for a few more weeks. Then she would return to her regularly scheduled life back in Connecticut.

Her seasonal presence used to intrigue him. He’d purposely see that he was in Hideaway whenever she visited. Now, it made him crave his condo in Portland, Maine, a place he typically only stayed when he got hung up at work.

When they reached Olivia’s summer house, a charming cedar shake estate perched on the bluff above the harbor, Soren tried to picture himself there, but preferred the contemporary style of his newly built home. The bones of the Aldrich estate were old, the kind of old that predated money and outlasted time. Hydrangeas lined the long porch as the crushed oyster shell drive crunched under the tires of his luxury Cadillac.

“You’re sure you don’t want to come in.”

“Another time.” Speeding this along, he hopped out to grab her door.

The walk to her porch was uneventful, the kiss goodnight even more so.

When he got back into the car, his chest lightened. Olivia waved, and he nodded, backing out before she even made it through the front door.

Once he reached the main drag along the sea wall, his chest loosened. The sense of freedom should have told him everything about the date he needed to know, but it would have meant facing other truths he’d rather not confront.

The faster he drove, the harder his heart beat. By the time he made it back to town, his dick awoke from its coma. His blood pumped harder, and his pulse ripped like a giddy current through his veins.

Driving on autopilot, he tried not to overthink the last few hours, but struggled with the pinch of guilt that followed. He shouldn’t have lied to Olivia, but something inside of him warned him to play it safe with her.

He had no excuse for blowing her off other than his recent pattern of horny stupidity. Every time he gave in to his impulses like this, he swore it was the last, yet here he was again, rushing off to the one place he had no business going.

There was no logical explanation. This addictive fixation was becoming a disruption to his well-ordered life. He knew better. Yet his foot pressed the gas pedal harder, driving the speedometer fifty miles past the speed limit on a dark back road at ten-thirty at night. Puddles sprayed under his tires as he rounded the curves, his pulse intensifying with each closing mile.

There was no meeting tomorrow. He should have gone home. Either that, or tested the sexual chemistry with Olivia. She was the sensible diet of refinement and class he told himself to order, yet he was racing towards a drive-through of indulgence that would end in familiar regret.

“Shit,” he cursed in the silence of the car, his hands tight on the wheel and his eyes focused on the dark road.