TWENTY-FIVE
The following morning should have been awkward for Isabel, but it wasn’t. Michael didn’t give her time to be embarrassed or have regrets about all the wild things she had done when it was her turn to drive him out of his mind.
He woke her kissing her neck. She was still in his arms, and his warm breath against her ear was giving her goose bumps.
“Wake up, Isabel,” he whispered, his voice rough from sleep. “We need to get going.”
“All right,” she said softly, and snuggled closer to him.
“Come on. It’s time to get up.”
“All right,” she repeated on a sigh.
She finally moved. She put her arms around his neck and kissed him. There wasn’t anything timid or quick about the kiss. She put her heart into it and was trembling when he pulled back.
Michael told himself to get out of bed, but he couldn’t make himself do it. He was too hungry for her. Her warm body pressed against his made him ache to be inside her.
“Isabel, we need to get up.”
Those were the last coherent words he said. He kissed her again, and that kiss led to another and another, and before he could stop himself, he was kissing and caressing nearly every inch of her beautiful body. His desire for her was completely out of control, and he couldn’t seem to care. All she had to do was smile at him or look at him, and he wanted her.
“Are you okay?” he asked as he rolled out of bed and headed to the bathroom. He didn’t wait for an answer.
Isabel was slow to float back to reality. Making love with Michael had been the most wonderful experience, and now she was in the mood to cuddle. Apparently, he wasn’t. She wasn’t upset that he was in a hurry. She knew what she was getting with him. There hadn’t been any words of love after, but then she hadn’t expected that there would be. He loved having sex with her. That was the only thing she was absolutely sure about.
Pushing those thoughts aside, she grabbed one of Michael’s T-shirts and put it on, then sorted through her suitcase looking for something to wear today. She ended up choosing a pink V-neck T-shirt, khaki pants, and flats.
While she was in the bathroom, Michael dressed, packed, and made two phone calls. The woman was taking forever to get ready. As he was waiting, he had time to think. And Isabel was first on his mind. He loved being with her, but, once again, he couldn’t avoid the reality of how ill-suited they were for each other.
He was fast and methodical in everything he did. He never took his eye off the target, and he always sought perfection. Ironically, he took his time only when he was making love to Isabel.
Everything Isabel did was slow and haphazard, and yet she seemed to find order in her chaos. Dylan told him she left old flash drives and notebooks all over the house. Writing songs was an important part of who she was, and yet it could be dangerous. When she had a song on her mind, she became distracted and wasn’t aware of what was around her. She became so distracted in Boston, she got hopelessly lost and nearly got herself killed.
Once he focused on a goal, he went after it with a vengeance. Failure wasn’t an option. He was disciplined and methodical, which was why the law appealed to him. He liked order. Until Isabel came along, he wouldn’t let anything divert his attention.
Isabel did have other, what he considered endearing, strengths. For one, she had tremendous empathy for others. She took time to listen to strangers.
Those same strangers were suspicious and nervous around him. Isabel claimed it was because he was such an imposing figure and he never smiled. He could hold a grudge, even when he couldn’t do anything about it. Revenge made sense to him. His only excuse was that he was a Buchanan male, and it was in his DNA.
She was an optimist.
He was a cynic.
She saw the good in people.
He looked for the bad and usually found it.
He had to admit she was a hell of a lot more fun than he was, and he was happy and content when he was with her, even when she was driving him nuts.
She had her flaws. She was stubborn, unreasonable at times, had a fierce temper, and was a maniac behind the wheel.
Simply put—they were all wrong for each other. He would make her miserable, and she would drive him crazy.
Isabel stood by the foot of the bed watching Michael. He had his hands in his pockets, his stance was rigid, and he was staring out the window with the most intense look on his face. She couldn’t imagine what he was thinking.
It was drizzling outside. She put on her rain jacket and was ready to take on the day. She called his name twice before she got his attention.
“I’m ready to go.”