Defying Desire. A.C. Arthur

but someone. She didn’t want to be alone—of that he was certain—and he wasn’t complaining about being the one to end up in bed with her.

      Still he wondered as he wiped the warm washcloth over his face and down his chest, what was really going on with her.

      Tia stepped onto the treadmill the next morning with one goal in mind: walk until her mind was completely clear. Of the anniversary. Of Jake and Jessica. And definitely of Trent Donovan.

      When she’d left her apartment well before the crack of dawn this morning he’d been still asleep in her bed. He’d stayed with her all night, cradling her in his arms as if she were the most important thing in the world to him.

      Which she knew was an out-and-out lie.

      Trent Donovan didn’t give a rat’s ass about her. He’d wanted to sleep with her for months now and she’d given him that chance. In fact, he’d done her just as much of a favor by staying. She hadn’t wanted to be alone and if she’d had to choose a way to spend that most horrible night, she wasn’t about to complain about it being in Trent’s arms.

      So she swiped at the sweat already beginning to bead on her forehead, pressed the button and walked a little faster. She had been in such a hurry to get out of her apartment without waking Trent that she’d forgotten her iPod so she had nothing else to occupy her mind. Not that music would have helped.

      It was the morning after and instead of being curled up in her bed sobbing or even curled up in her bed with the mesmerizing Trent Donovan, she was here at the gym. She was losing her mind, that’s exactly what she was doing. Any other woman would be back at her apartment probably gearing up for another round of the most spine-tingling sex she’d ever experienced. But, no, not Tia.

      It wasn’t worth it. He’d been there when she needed him and that was that. For all she cared Trent Donovan could move on to his next victim and she wouldn’t bat an eyelid.

      From her bag on the floor Tia’s cell phone chirped. She did a running jump and leapt from the treadmill, almost tripping over the bag as she dug her hand inside to find the phone. Looking at the display, she rolled her eyes when she recognized the number.

      “Hi, Camille,” she said as cheerfully and out of breath as possible. So much for not being pressed about Trent Donovan, she thought acknowledging her own disappointment that it wasn’t him calling.

      “Thank God,” Camille sighed on the other end. “Where are you? I was so worried when you disappeared from the party last night. When you didn’t answer your home phone the ten times I called first thing this morning I began to panic.”

      With one hand Tia reached into her bag for her towel. Wiping her forehead she cradled the cell phone between her ear and her shoulder. “Sorry. I should have told you I was leaving.” And I probably would have if your soon-to-be brother-in-law hadn’t carried me out the back door. As if he were rescuing her, Tia thought whimsically. Get real, she was not Camille and fairy tales were not on her agenda.

      “What’s up? I didn’t have a shoot today, did I?” Tia was very professional, she kept an accurate schedule and regarded her date book like the Holy Bible.

      “No. Nothing work related. I just wanted to make sure you were okay and to ask if you’d like to have lunch.”

      “Ah, actually, I’ve got some errands to run today, Camille. So I’m going to have to pass.”

      “Okay, well, if you change your mind just give me a call on my cell or come on over to the Donovan family estate around one. You remember where that is, right?”

      Tia closed her eyes. Camille was just too nice to curse out. She wanted to be alone today, not at some family function for a family that didn’t belong to her. “Yes, I remember where it is.” They’d done a shoot at the swimming pool there a few weeks ago because Camille thought the intricate shape of the pool—it was shaped like the African continent and painted at the bottom to resemble the tribe that Henry Donovan descended from—would be a lovely backdrop for her Afrocentric collection. “But I really don’t think I’ll be able to make it.”

      “That’s fine. But, Tia, I hope you’re not spending the day alone. You spend far too much time by yourself. You need to get out more.”

      That wasn’t what Tia needed but she couldn’t very well tell Camille that. “I like being by myself,” she said instead.

      Camille was quiet for a moment. “That used to work for me, too.”

      Tia knew this was where the conversation would shift. Camille would go into how rough a time she’d had it when she was young and with her low self-esteem, thinking that Tia could relate to her. Which she could not since Tia never had self-esteem issues. What she had was a hardened resolve to never be hurt on the level she once was. The loss of a mate was one thing, but the loss of a child at the same time was something completely different.

      Just the thought was sometimes unbearable for her. Her grief had festered, she knew. It was unhealthy as the psychiatrist she’d seen immediately after the accident had advised. But Tia didn’t give a damn. She’d developed a way to cope and that’s what she was doing. All work and no attachments. And she didn’t need her employer telling her any differently.

      “Listen, Camille, I was in the middle of my workout. Thanks for checking up on me but I’m fine. I’ll talk to you on Monday,” she said, then disconnected before Camille could say another word. Because Tia was close to breaking down. If Camille had said another word about being alone Tia didn’t know that she could hold it in.

      Being alone used to work for her, that’s what Camille had said. Well, it had worked just fine for Tia for almost two years. But if truth were told, these last two months had been different. Harder, it seemed, because there was a longing inside of her that did not want to be ignored. A longing that Tia feared would be her ultimate demise.