"Why are you here, Jenessa?"
The ventriloquist operating Dion's vocal cords said the words without his brain being aware. Every coherent thought had fled once he'd opened the door and caught the faint trace of her perfume.
Red Door. Always Red Door.
He'd fought an internal war with himself over whether he could deal with the bullshit that would follow. It was always the same, this game she played. Yet he couldn't stop his feet from crossing the threshold.
And damn it, she loved that shit.
It was if her fingers were already sliding along his spine with deliberate slowness, sampling the quivers of his suffering. Then as now, he could never say no to the temptation. He told himself that it was because he loved her.
She was a feline apparition leaning back on his navy couch. The white of her skirt suit set off the alabaster hue of her skin. Silky black hair splashed over her shoulders in glorious rivulets. But the eyes were the gray of summer storms and just as dangerous.
He put his briefcase on the table carefully, watching her. Just as she watched him. Like panthers in a sexual jungle looking for a place to strike.
"I get away from here and all I do is think about you." Manicured fingernails traced the length of the armrest beside her in lazy circles. "I never know what to do about that."
"Not my problem."
"I didn't say it was."
"Where the fuck did you get a key? I had the locks changed."
Jenessa rose on white stiletto heels. "When it comes to you, I'm always find a way."
It was true. Dion was something she couldn't seem to get out of her system. It wasn't that he was remarkable the way other men she'd known were. His hair was closely clipped sand. He kept his 6' frame in decent shape and had a face of a choirboy singing in a Baptist church. His eyes were bright and brown in a face that said he was a "good man."
So orderly and proper and serious.
In the beginning, she'd found this sexy. The fact that he was so genuine aroused something in her that could only be described as lust. But the very thing that drove her to him simultaneously repulsed her. After a while his presence became stifling and oppressive. Like being caged.
Then she would have to open the jail doors and be free. For months on end, she'd live her life solo. Fucking anybody that caught her eye. Traveling to places he'd never go with her. Concentrating on her job at her architectural firm.
Then one day out of the blue, she'd stumble over some remnant of him. The stub of a movie ticket in a purse she hadn't used in a while. A dusty photo would fall from the shelf in her closet. Some acquaintance she hadn't seen in a year would ask how he was.
Just like that, he'd return to her thoughts as if he never left them. She'd try to ignore them, but eventually she'd find her way back to their street.
To their apartment.
Once her feet crossed the threshold, she'd remember how Dion looked when he came home from work. Carmel eyes tired from work. Wearing a suit all rumpled.
He'd glance up and see her in her doorway.
