What She Needs - Lacey Alexander [124]
“Hiding from what?” he snapped.
She tilted her head and didn’t let his tone deter her. “I’m not sure. Love? The fear of loving somebody that much again and losing them? The fear of hurting somebody and never having the chance to fix it? The fear of living the life you’d planned with her—without her? Maybe all of that? Am I getting close?”
He didn’t say anything for a minute, and she knew she’d pissed him off. He still held her in a loose embrace, but the tenderness of it had faded. Finally, he looked her in the eye and said, “I don’t hide from anything, Jenna. You should know that by now.”
“I should know that just because you’re all big and tough and sexy?” she asked, still feeling bold. “Talk about being in denial. All I can say is . . . sex doctor, heal thyself.”
Brent knew there was truth in her words. He’d always known it. He’d just chosen not to think about it. Now he had only himself to blame for getting so close to someone that they could see it.
“Jenna,” he quietly explained, “there are times when it’s possible to . . . recognize what you’re doing, and know why, and even realize that maybe it doesn’t seem like the best thing . . . but if you function fine that way, maybe you decide it is the best thing—for you. I’m happy here, so why would I change that—no matter what brought me here?” Maybe that would shut her up.
Unfortunately not. “I could ask you the same question about my issues. I was fine, happy, content—but you insisted on fixing me anyway. And I feel better about myself inside than I have in years. I thought I was fine when I came here, and I could have lived that way forever without any real problems—but you made me better. Better than I knew I could be.”
“Apples and oranges,” he said decidedly.
“I disagree,” she replied. “I think . . . you’re afraid of the world beyond this island. I think you’re afraid of all the ways there are to hurt and get hurt if you indulge in a relationship that goes deeper than sex.”
Okay, that was it. He’d tried to be nice about this, but she’d just pushed him too far. Still, he tried to keep his voice calm as he said, “I think you’re butting into something that’s not your business, sunshine.”
“Maybe I care about you,” she shot back at him.
Shit. “Don’t go there, Jenna,” he warned.
“What? Why?”
So he’d have to explain this, too, huh? Fine. “Because that was my exact fear all along. It’s why a guide should not take part in your fantasies. And I fucked up a lot more by . . . by all this talking and getting to know you. You’re not supposed to care about me.”
She spoke more softly. “What if it’s too late for that?”
His chest tightened. He’d been trying to ignore the ramifications of getting close to her, trying to just ride it out like she’d said—and that’s exactly what he was going to keep doing now. “You need to push it aside,” he told her unequivocally. “Just like all the other emotions you’ve needed to push aside this week to free yourself sexually.”
She let out a sigh, pursed her lips, and said, “What if I . . . haven’t really pushed them aside very much?”
Hell. He had no choice. He had to lower the boom here, once and for all. He didn’t want to hurt her, so he spoke gently—but the words would still wound her. “Jenna, let me say this plainly. I’ve enjoyed being with you this week, and yeah, I’ve taken some special satisfaction in helping you overcome your issues. But I never should have talked so openly with you. And I shouldn’t have you in my bed right now. Because despite enjoying your company a great deal, this is still my job.”
She looked tougher than he might have expected—more challenged than hurt. “Right now?” she asked. “Having me in your bed is your job?”
“Kind of. Because you needed extra attention, extra prodding—you know that. Getting closer to you helped me find out what you needed.”
“Oh,” she said, her voice coming out too soft. It made his stomach pinch, but he had to ignore that and go on.
“And, if you recall, you would only consent to going through with the fantasies