No, Royce corrected. They had made progress. Felicity no longer pulled away when he brushed a casual hand across her cheek or stiffened when he greeted her with a hug. She hadn’t reached the point where she initiated shows of public affection, but when they were alone, she touched him often and without hesitation.

  Royce understood that Felicity wasn’t convinced their relationship would last. She was gun shy because of her past—and present. But everything felt so right that he found it more and more difficult to control his impatience.

  The next step Royce wanted to take was a big one. The big one. Marriage.

  Too soon. Royce didn’t know a single person besides himself who wouldn’t agree. Felicity’s brother didn’t know about them and he doubted Mac would do summersaults with joy when he found out.

  Too bad. Neither of them was a child. As her brother and his best friend, Mac’s blessing would be nice. But as he told her. If forced to make a choice, Royce would pick Felicity. Every time. He wanted to believe she would do the same. If only he could be certain.

  Royce’s family wasn’t a problem. His mother already knew he was seeing someone and that he was serious. Bettina Patterson knew who Felicity was. She’d heard all the rumors. But she wasn’t the kind of person to judge someone on whispers and innuendo. She wanted to meet the woman her son loved and judge for herself.

  If Felicity agreed, he would introduce them tomorrow. Or today. Hell, he’d drop everything and bring them together as fast as he could drive to his mother’s house.

  Felicity’s response? Thank you, but no. Stubborn woman, Royce thought with a sigh.

  Royce knew Felicity was happy. They spent every spare moment together. When they were in bed, everything clicked. Passionate, inventive, funny. Full of surprises.

  Wiping the steam from the bathroom mirror, Royce lathered his face and picked up his razor.

  Royce still grinned from ear to ear when he remembered the night Felicity showed up at his place with a set of handcuffs. Certain he understood the game she wanted to play, he let her coax him into the bedroom. Before he knew what happened, he was shackled to the bed.

  The things Felicity did to him might still be illegal in a few states, but would anyone hear Royce complain? Not in this lifetime—or any other.

  Walking to his closet, Royce circled the room as he decided what to wear. Felicity wanted a casual evening in, and he saw no reason to argue. Take-out food, a movie, and the woman he loved. If there was a combination closer to perfection, he couldn’t think of one.

  Dropping the towel Royce pulled on a pair of jeans, a white t-shirt. Over the top, he wore a button-down shirt in the color of ripe apricots.

  Standing in front of the full-length mirror, Royce surveyed the results. The shirt looked orange to him, but the salesman was persistent.

  As he reached for his wallet, Royce’s gaze landed on a box he’d left sitting out on the dresser. Inside lay a simple but flawless square-cut diamond surrounded by a delicate setting of antique rose gold. Classic and beautiful. Just like Felicity.

  Royce didn’t know her ring size, but the jeweler assured him that if needed, the adjustment would be a simple fix. Now all he had to was convince Felicity to accept his proposal.

  If she needed more time, a long engagement was fine with him. If Felicity told him she’d stay by his side, committed to making a life together, he could wait forever.

  To hear her say I love you would be nice, but they were just words. Royce knew he was in Felicity’s heart even if she wasn’t ready to admit the truth to him or herself.

  Sliding his arms into a tan and chocolate leather bomber jacket, Royce groaned when his phone rang. Lately, he couldn’t turn around without some emergency cropping up at work that only he could solve.

  Everything seemed to originate in the product development labs with Elsa Capshaw or one of her colleagues. Royce didn’t know if the whole department suddenly had the yips or if they needed a break.

  Most of the time the problem turned out to be incidental and easily managed by someone else. Last week Royce put his foot down. Elsa had worked at Evergreen Tech long enough to take some initiative.

  Yes, Royce wanted to be kept up to date on all projects. But unless the walls literally threatened to burn down, a weekly report was more than satisfactory.

  When Elsa protested, he suggested she take a long weekend to unwind. The stress from work seemed to be getting to her. For a moment, Royce thought she might burst into tears. Thank goodness she pulled herself together.

  Reaching for the phone, Royce made a mental note to speak with Bruce Capshaw. The older man wasn’t simply Elsa’s superior. He was her father. If something was wrong, Bruce needed to know. At the very least, the two should talk and save Royce the headache.

  Glancing at the phone, Royce’s mood changed when he saw the call wasn’t about work. Felicity was on the other end of the line.

  “I was just about to walk out the door,” Royce said. “Did you change your mind about Chinese food? I can stop at the pizza place you like instead.”

  “I called to cancel.”

  Royce frowned. Felicity sounded chipper. Too chipper.

  “What happened.”

  “Nothing,” she told him. “I’m tired and all I want to do is sleep.”

  “Fine. I don’t mind going to bed early,” Royce said. “Didn’t you say that you rest better when you’re in my arms?”

  “Did I?” Felicity laughed. “What a cornball.”

  “Sweet. Not corny,” Royce assured her. He frowned. “If you need to talk about work, I’m happy to listen.”

  “You’re a great sounding board,” she said. “But work is fine. Great. I miss Denise but she’s due back from maternity leave in a few weeks. In plenty of time to help with the upcoming gala.”

  “You sound sad.”

  Felicity sounded depressed, but Royce didn’t want to project his worries onto her. He hadn’t witnessed any of her down periods. She was so upbeat and funny, he almost forgot about her addiction.

  “I just need a night to myself.” She tried to stifle a sigh, but Royce heard it loud and clear. “Couples need alone time. Enjoy yourself. Call some friends. Do guy stuff.”

  “What do you think men do when they’re alone?” Royce asked.

  “For all I know, you strip down to your underwear and have pillow fights,” Felicity said, momentarily sounding like her old self.

  “I thought that was what women did,” Royce teased. “Or is that only in my fantasies?”

  “Oh! I know. You can rent some porn,” Felicity snickered. “Turn down the lights. Get yourself a bottle of lotion and a box of tissues. Have a party.”

  Disconcerted by how right on the mark Felicity was about how guys like to spend their alone time, Royce cleared his throat. He gave up such activities the day after he lost his virginity.

  Royce still masturbated when the mood hit. But he’d marked the porn/lotion/tissue trifecta off his list of good times long ago.

  “Get some rest,” Royce said. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “No! Don’t,” Felicity said in a rush. “I’ll call you. I promise.”

  “Okay. Bye.”

  “Goodbye. I’m sorry, Royce,” she sighed and hung up.

  “Felicity? Damn it,” Royce cursed.

  A bad feeling began to bubble in the pit of Royce’s stomach. A request to spend some time alone was no reason to be sorry. Yes, he was disappointed, but he wasn’t a jerk. He could live without her for one night.

  Royce dialed Felicity’s number and received a message that her phone had been turned off. Shit. Checking to make certain he had the key to her front door that she gave him, he headed into the garage.

  As his tires made a protesting screech along the cement floor, he backed onto the driveway. Pounding his hand on the steering wheel, Royce cursed the time it took for the security gate to open.

  Was he overreacting, Royce asked himself as he stomped on the gas? He didn’t think so. Felicity could curse him for barging in if she wanted—knowing her, she probably would. If she turned out to be okay, he would apologize and leave.

  What if what his gut told him was right? What if she needed him? Royce would never forgive himself if he didn’t do something even if, please God, it turned out to be wrong.

  The sky was clear, the weather warm, and the streets surprisingly clear of traffic. He pulled to a stop in front of Felicity’s building in record time. Royce left the car at a run and found the elevator empty and waiting in the lobby.

  Someone, somewhere, seemed to be on his side.

  Royce considered using his key without knocking first. He stopped himself, took a calming breath. He didn’t know anything for sure. If he barged in and found Felicity resting, she would have his hide. And rightly so.

  Better to knock and wait. And hope. More than anything, Royce wanted to be wrong.

  Waiting, Royce paced and said a series of silent prayers. He wasn’t a religious man, but his mother said that God didn’t care how or when you asked for help. He didn’t judge or penalize you if you ignored him ninety percent of the time. He was there whenever you needed him.

  Royce checked his watch. Three minutes had passed since he knocked on Felicity’s door. Wouldn’t she have answered by now if she heard?

  “Fuck it,” Royce growled. “I’m going in.”

  The apartment was silent. And dark. The combination did nothing to quell Royce’s concerns. If anything, the lack of any sign of life elevated his sense of dread to borderline panic.

  “Felicity?” he called out. “Are you here.”

  “Royce?” The sound of glass breaking was followed by a string of curses Royce rarely heard outside a locker room.

  The bedroom or bathroom. Royce didn’t care which as he headed down the hall. He reached for the door only to find it locked.

  “Open up,” he said, rattling the knob.

  “Don’t come in, Royce.”

  Felicity sounded like herself. Her voice was a little strained but that could have been because of his sudden, unexpected arrival.

  “Let me see your face and then I’ll go,” Royce coaxed. “I promise.”

  “You shouldn’t have come.”

  Was she crying? Instead of his stomach, Royce’s heart constricted.

  “Tell me what’s wrong, sweetheart.” Royce lay his forehead on the door hoping Felicity could sense how much he wanted to hold her.

  “I told you not to come.” Her fist pounded the door inches from his head. Royce jumped a good foot off the ground. “God damn it. Go away and let me be.”

  Royce had gone from worried sick to contrite to startled. He was back to worried. Felicity had no reason not to let him in unless she was up to something she didn’t want him to see. Privacy was one thing. Her safety and health were another.

  “You have ten seconds to open the door before I kick it down,” he warned.

  “Go fuck a duck,” Felicity shouted.

  Another time, Royce would have laughed at her colorful language. Not tonight. He’d left his sense of humor at home.

  “Stand back. At the count of ten, I’m coming in.”

  “The door is solid mahogany,” Felicity warned. “The only thing you’ll break is your shoulder. Or foot. Or whatever you macho types use to prove your manhood.”

  “One. Two. Three. Four.”

  Royce heard the unmistakable sound of the lock releasing. Not sure what he would find, he turned the knob.

  Dressed in a pair of loose white cotton pants and a long-sleeved t-shirt, Felicity stood near the bed with her back to him. Breathing a sigh of relief, Royce caught the unmistakable scent of alcohol.

  “If you hadn’t startled me, I wouldn’t have dropped the bottle,” she said, nodding toward the broken glass that lay in a pool of dark liquid. “Lucky for me I always keep a spare.”

  Whipping his head around, Royce’s gaze fell to Felicity’s hand. She clutched the neck of something. Bourbon, if he wasn’t mistaken. His eyes sharpened when he noticed blood dripping from her wrist, falling and staining the white of her pants red.

  “You cut yourself.”

  “Did I?” Felicity shrugged as she lifted the bottle to her lips. “Not the first time.”

  Royce crossed the floor in two strides. Grabbing her arm, he let out a sigh of relief when he saw the cut was on her finger, not her wrist.

  “You think I tried to kill myself?” she scoffed. “Nope. Death would be too easy. I prefer to stick around so I can make everyone who cares about me as miserable as possible.”

  “Not funny.” Royce lifted Felicity into his arms. Avoiding the broken glass, he headed for the bathroom.

  “Mm,” she sighed. Her head fell against his shoulder. “This feels familiar. But the bed is that way.”

  Royce sat Felicity on the toilet. He tried and failed to remove the bottle from her hand, giving up for now in favor of treating the still bleeding gash on her finger.

  “You’re a good man, Royce Patterson.” Felicity petted his head as he cleaned her wound and applied a bandage. “I’m not.”

  “You’re not a man?” he asked, trying to keep his tone light. “I noticed.”

  “I’m not good.” She rubbed her free hand across her face and sighed. “I try. But I always seem to fail. Every time.”

  “You’ll do better tomorrow,” he told her.

  Royce breathed easier when she finally relinquished the bourbon. Setting the bottle in the sink, open end down, he wet a cloth and gently wiped Felicity’s face.

  “A waste of good booze,” she said as the last of the liquid glugged from the bottle. Eyes half-closed, her head lolling to one side, she smiled and removed a packet of pills from her pocket. “At least I still have my little friends.”

  Instead of panicking, Royce felt a resigned steadiness settle over his body. Later, he would punch something. Or someone if he ever found the lowlife who sold Felicity the pills. Right now, she needed him to stay calm.

  “How many did you take?” he asked, ready to rush her to the emergency room.

  “One. Always one. Never more.” Felicity snickered. “I’m Edgar Allen Poe. Nevermore. Nevermore.”

  “Let me have them.”

  Royce was surprised when Felicity did as he asked without argument.

  “Dump away,” she said when he poured the contents of the packet down the sink. “I know where there’s an endless supply.”

  Without comment, Royce picked her up. Pulling back the covers, he lay her on the bed. Taking the trash can, he carefully cleaned up the broken glass and spilled alcohol. By the time he finished, Felicity was asleep.

  Tired to his bones, Royce kicked off his shoes and stretched out beside Felicity. He watched her for a while, making sure her breathing was steady and even. Finally, a little past midnight, he took her hand in his, closed his eyes, and slept.

  ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

  FELICITY WOKE WITH tears on her cheeks. Frowning, she wiped at the moisture. As the memories of the night before came flooding back, she wanted to curl into a ball and sob.

  Never the kind of drinker who could claim ignorance of her actions while under the influence, Felicity was cursed with the gift of total recall.

  The phone call to Royce hadn’t been a mistake. She knew exactly what she was doing when she picked up her phone. One of two things would happen. Either he would do as she asked and stay away. Or he would come and finally see the real her.

  Not for a minute did Felicity believe that Royce would stay away.

  “Breakfast will be ready in ten minutes.”

  Certain she was hearing things, Felicity slowly rolled toward the bedroom door. She found Royce.

  “You’re still here?” she asked. If he didn’t answer, she would know he was simply a figment of her imagination.

  “Get cleaned up.”

  Real. He wasn’t an illusion.

  Royce didn’t smile. Nor did he look at Felicity with anger or disgust. His expression was blank. As she stood in the shower, she wished the water would melt her flesh so she could be washed down the drain and disappear rather than face the man who waited for her in the kitchen.

  On top of being selfish, Felicity had turned into a coward.

  Why hadn’t Royce left? On the few occasions when he told her about a former relationship, he said that when things were over with a woman, he wasn’t the kind to let his feelings linger.

  Royce preferred to leave on good terms, but he never went back. And he never rehashed what went wrong. What was the point? When something was over, it was over.

  Whatever the reason, Royce must have decided to break his rule. If he wanted answers before he broke off their relationship, she didn’t have any. She’d warned him from the beginning of who she was. It simply took him longer than usual to see her in a clear, glaring light.

  Dressed in jeans and a loose tunic, her feet bare, Felicity squared her shoulders and forced herself to leave the bedroom and face whatever music Royce wanted to throw her way.

  Royce stood at the stove stirring something in a cast-iron frying pan that Felicity didn’t even know she owned. She supposed Mac must have bought her the cookware at some point and had the items delivered and unpacked.

  Since Felicity never used the kitchen to do more than store her booze and boil water, she couldn’t be sure what lurked in the cupboards.

  “Sit,” Royce told her as he dished up the food. He placed two filled plates on the table and handed Felicity a bottle of water. “Drink every drop. You need to hydrate. Would you like a couple of aspirin?”

  “I don’t like over-the-counter pain killers,” she said.

  A woman who took pills without a second thought was squeamish about legal drugs? Royce had every right to laugh at the bitter irony. Instead, he simply nodded.

 

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