by Carrie Elks
“Oh, and you can stay at my place in Charleston this weekend,” his mother called out, “I’ll have Rona make up the guest rooms.”
“Room. Singular.” He turned to raise an eyebrow at her. He knew exactly what she was doing, and he wasn’t having it. “For one person only.”
“That’s what I meant, darling. Have a good afternoon. Dinner tonight?” She gave him an innocent smile.
“Not tonight, I have things to do.” Like pull his eyelashes out one by one. Or stare moodily at the wall and determine why the heck he couldn’t stop thinking about a certain distiller.
“Okay then.” She smiled, as though she’d won a game he hadn’t even known they were playing. “Maybe tomorrow.”
The flowers arrived right before five that evening. Sandy called her to the reception desk, beaming madly as Becca took in the elegant white arrangement sitting on the center of the desk.
“These are for you,” Sandy pushed the arrangement toward her. “Aren’t they beautiful?”
Becca gaped at them. She hadn’t expected an apology from Daniel. Not this fast, anyway. And maybe she didn’t even deserve one. She wasn’t sure who owed who what. This morning’s argument felt hazy, and she couldn’t quite figure out who was in the wrong. She’d made assumptions, but then he’d yelled at her to leave.
Maybe neither of them owed each other anything. Wouldn’t that be nice and easy?
“I didn’t know you have an admirer,” Sandy said. She was wearing her jacket as though she was about to leave, but she didn’t seem in a hurry.
“Me either.” Becca lifted the envelope from where it was nestled amid the blooms. Loosening the flap, she pulled the card halfway out, being careful not to let Sandy read over her shoulder.
Thank you for an amazing evening. I was smiling all weekend.
Shawn
Ignoring the weird pang of disappointment tugging at her gut, Becca slid the card back into the arrangement. The weekend felt like forever ago. She’d danced with Shawn but nothing more had happened. She could barely remember what he looked like with her thoughts full of twisted lips and dark eyes. “Can I leave them behind your desk and pick them up on my way out?”
“Are you working late tonight?”
“No, Garrett’s covering the late run. I just need to finish a few things up.”
Sandy curled her hands around the vase. “You should really put these in fresh water. But I guess they’ll be fine for an hour. Make sure you cut half an inch off the stems when you get home. They’ll last longer that way.”
“Sure. Have a good evening.” She gave Sandy a wave and headed back to the still room, checking in with Garrett and the two operators who’d finish the run that evening. There were a few more tasks she needed to do before she could leave – making sure they had enough ground corn to start the next run in the morning, and a quick chat with Mia, her almost-sister-in-law, about some marketing they were doing for the International Blend.
“I hear you’re making some tweaks to the blend,” Mia said when Becca caught up to her twenty minutes later. She was pulling her jacket on, ready to leave.
“Just a few. Daniel suggested them.” Even saying his name made her chest ache a little. It was all too awkward to think about. This was why people said not to mix business with pleasure. They had a point.
“Are you two talking to each other now? I thought you hated him.”
“It was him hating me. And we’re working together, so we have to talk.” Or were they? Maybe he wouldn’t want her on the project now that she’d pissed him off all over again.
“Well, it sounds good. I like the idea of putting less of the scotch in to make it really stand out. I can go with that.” Mia grabbed her briefcase. “Are you heading out now? We can walk together.”
Becca nodded. “Sure. I need to pick up my jacket on the way.”
They made it through the still room and into reception before Becca remembered the flowers she’d left there. She glanced at Mia. “You go on ahead, I have to pick something up from behind the desk.”
“Okay. Have a good evening.” Mia gave her a hug. “Do you have much planned?” she asked, releasing her.
“I’ll probably do some baking. Or maybe go for a walk. It’s a nice evening.” Anything to not think about last night. Or this morning.
“You’re always welcome at ours. Cam and Michael are at some football thing, so it’s just me and Josh. We’ll probably watch something on Netflix. Come over if you’re bored.”
Becca flashed her a grateful smile. “I might do that.”
Mia walked out of the main door as Becca made her way to the back of the desk, where Sandy had set the bouquet. She hunkered down to pick the vase up, right as Daniel walked through from the still room.
It was the first time they’d laid eyes on each other since their argument in the penthouse. She felt her fingers tremble as they held the flower box.
He stilled, his eyes raking her face, then dipping to the flowers.
“Yours?” he asked, unsmiling.
“Yes.” She gave him a sickly sweet smile of her own to make up for it. “They arrived today. Complete surprise. Aren’t they beautiful?” If this was a game, she’d just served an ace. For a moment she felt invincible.
But his face was devoid of emotion. Why was it that her heart always jumped like a kid on a trampoline whenever he was around? She wanted to dislike him. It was so much easier when she did. Because this weird, frantic need was impossible to ignore.
“I’m going home.” She had no idea why she said it. Maybe to break the silence that was killing her.
“Have a good evening.” He still wasn’t smiling. Bastard.
“You too.”
He nodded and turned to walk back the way he came, whatever he’d come to do in the reception forgotten. Sighing, Becca hitched the flowers in her arm and walked around the desk and out of the door, exhaling heavily when she reached her car from holding her breath for too long.
He made her feel things she didn’t want to feel, and it was annoying as heck. Not because the attraction to him wasn’t delicious, because it was. It made her feel more alive than she’d felt in years.
And she knew she couldn’t have him.
One jab to the bag. Then another. Enough to make it swing back from his punch. Follow it up with a dodge and an attack so damn hard that it made his muscles ache and his forehead break out in a sweat.
Sparring with the punching bag wasn’t cutting it. Just like the run he’d gone on as soon as he’d gotten home hadn’t cut it earlier. He hit the bag again, hoping that this one would push her out of his mind, but instead she loomed larger.
Damn it. He needed to stop thinking about her.
He’d started training with a punching bag when he first moved to Scotland. It had been a way to stop being so wound up about the life he’d left behind. The only way he could control the anger that threatened to consume him.
Escaping to the gym had allowed him to regain control of his life. To be only mildly pissed off instead of constantly irate. But now it felt like he’d regressed, and nothing was helping him calm down. All he could think about were those damn flowers Becca had received.
Who were they from?
He should have been the one to buy her flowers. He owed her an apology, after all. But instead he’d stared at them and walked away, afraid that if he opened his mouth he’d piss her off even more.
Pulling his gloves off, he threw them on the floor and stalked over to the bathroom he’d installed in his home gym. Stripping off his workout clothes, he threw them into the hamper before walking into the double length shower. He turned the water to cold, to try to shock himself out of his fury, but it did nothing. Just made him shiver.
Once dressed, he ran his hands through his damp hair to try to get it under control, as he walked into the living room and switched on the TV. Almost immediately he turned it off again, and strode to the kitchen, yanking open the refrigerator and staring into the abyss. He d
idn’t even focus on the food. He was too busy thinking about all the breakfast food he’d left for housekeeping to clean up at the hotel this morning.
Because she didn’t stay.
Because he’d upset her.
Letting the door swing shut, he stomped to the hallway and grabbed his keys, desperate to get out of this house. It felt too big and too small all at the same time. Fresh air would work.
Or a drive in his car, foot down as he cruised up the highway.
Maybe then he could start to think properly.
Chapter Sixteen
Pulling a tray of fragrant cranberry and white chocolate muffins from the oven, Becca slid off her oven mitts, transferring the muffins to a cooling rack. She’d come straight home and pulled the ingredients out, determined to do something other than think about today.
And last night.
Not that it was working. Every five minutes or so he’d flash into her mind, that blank expression on his face when he’d seen her flowers in reception. She’d hoped for anything other than blankness. She would’ve been happier if he’d shown her his usual pissed-off frown. Because at least then he’d be feeling something.
And she wanted him to feel something when she was around. The same way she did whenever his name was mentioned.
Shaking her head at herself, she decided to take Mia up on her offer. A movie with her and Josh was preferable to sulking in her apartment all evening.
Sliding her feet into her sneakers, she grabbed a light jacket from the hook beside the front door and jammed her arms into it. Then she ran back to the kitchen and grabbed a container, putting four of the still-hot muffins inside. If she took them out when she got to Mia’s they should still be yummy.
With the tub in one hand, she opened the front door with the other, and nearly dropped the damn muffins when she saw Daniel standing only inches away from her.
With an expression that looked like it could kill anybody within a hundred yards.
“Oh.”
Daniel’s lips twisted into a frown. “Becca.” There was a masculine deepness to his voice that made her pulse race. “Are you going somewhere?”
She looked down at the muffin tin. “To see a friend.”
“Can I talk to you for a moment before you leave?”
“Um, I guess.” She didn’t move, though her pulse was nearing critical levels. “How do you know where I live?”
He lifted an eyebrow.
“My personnel file?” Had he looked inside it? Weird how warm that made her feel.
“Actually, I got it from your aunt. I called the number listed in your file and she said you’d moved out a few months ago. You should probably update your details.”
“Is that why you’re here? Because I didn’t put in a change of address form with HR? Are you going to discipline me for it?” Her voice was more tart than she’d intended. But damn, would it kill him to give her a smile?
“I bought you these,” he said, picking up an arrangement of white lilies. They were pretty and huge and she had to remember how to breathe. “As an apology for this morning.” He ran the tip of his tongue along his bottom lip.
“Oh.” She had no idea what to say.
“I also want to talk to you.”
“Now you want to talk.” She shifted her feet. “You didn’t seem very talkative earlier when you threw me out of your hotel room.” The memory of it stung her.
He lifted his hand to his temple and took in a deep breath. “Why is it that every time you open your mouth you drive me crazy?” he murmured, then frowned at his own words. “Jesus, I’m supposed to be apologizing, not making it worse.”
“Maybe I just naturally annoy you.” She shrugged. “It’s my superpower. I just never needed it until now.”
“You do annoy me.” His voice was low. “So damn much you wouldn’t believe it.”
She stared back at him, her chin lifted, her eyes narrowed. “The feeling’s mutual.”
“Do you know how hard it was to keep away from you last night?” he carried on as though he hadn’t heard her. “Knowing you were so close yet so far.”
“Why didn’t you come get me?” There was so much tension in the air it was getting hard to breathe. And a little madness in his eyes. The same madness she felt rushing through her body whenever he was near.
He hated her. He liked her. Neither of them mattered right now. Because whatever this thing between them was, it was making the air around them fizz and crackle.
He’s bad news.
Yeah, but bad news had never looked so delicious.
“I didn’t come to your room because I would have been lost.”
It was strange, with been in the sentence. She’d understand it if he’d said he would have lost. But would have been lost? What did that mean? Because it felt like a game they were both about to lose.
The door from the unit across the hall opened. Just the tiniest gap, but enough to let her know that prying ears were trying to listen. She reached forward and yanked him inside, and slammed the door behind him.
Daniel looked down at her hand, still circling his wrist. “Problems?”
“My neighbor works at my brother’s farm.” When he still looked confused, she added, “Well, his and his wife’s.”
“And you don’t want them to know I’m here.” He looked over her shoulder, taking in the apartment. Her living space was all one room, small enough to fit inside the suite he’d stayed in last night, and still have room left over.
“Your hair is wet,” she murmured, more to break the silence than anything else.
“I was working out. Took a shower.” A ghost of a smile crossed his lips. “I thought it would help relieve the stress.”
“Then you decided to come around here and let your tension hit the roof all over again.”
He moved the arm she was holding and put the flowers on the side table. Then he took the tin of muffins from her hands and put them down, sliding his fingers through hers. “I came here because you’re like a damn magnet I can’t avoid. No matter how hard I fight, I keep ending up right in front of you.”
“Why are you fighting?” she asked, confused. “Why do you keep pulling away?”
“Because I’m no good for you.”
Becca lifted a brow. “You don’t strike me as someone who cares how good he is for people.”
“Okay then, you’re no good for me.”
“Ouch.”
He closed his eyes, inhaling sharply. “That didn’t come out right. You’re a good person, Becca. Too good. Like some kind of flame that lights up every dark corner you find. But some darkness can’t be lit. And I’m so damn afraid I’ll end up breaking you.”
“I’m not that breakable.” Her voice was low. Soft. “And what right do you have to decide whether or not I want to be broken?”
He lifted their joined hands together, pressing the back of her palm against his cheek. He breathed in, then exhaled slowly, not releasing his hold.
“I don’t want to be like my family, messing lives up. I promised myself I wouldn’t. I’m not a nice person. I’m definitely not the kind of guy you should be looking for. I’m the one in the shadows who should give you the creeps.”
She slid her fingers from his, turning her hand so her palm was cupping his jaw. He squeezed his eyes shut, as though it hurt. But he didn’t push her away.
“You don’t give me the creeps.”
He leaned his face against her hand. “I should frighten you.” His voice was raw. “You should run away. I’m not the guy next door. I don’t believe in relationships. I don’t believe in happily ever afters. I’ve seen what they do to people. And I don’t want to hurt you, I really don’t.”
“You’re hurting me by pulling away.”
“Becca…” it was a breath. A plea, maybe. She felt his words curl around her, heat her skin and make her own breath catch. Bold, she took a step closer, until she was inches away from him. He was looking at her, eyes dark, imploring.
&n
bsp; As though she had the strength to walk away.
She didn’t. Not now.
Without batting a lash, he slid his arm around her waist, pressing his strong palm to the small of her back. But he didn’t close the gap between them. And she really wanted him to.
“Kiss me,” she whispered.
He grimaced. “I can’t.”
“Why not?” She tipped her head up. His gaze was fixed on her mouth.
“Because if I kiss you, I’m going to carry you to your bedroom and strip your clothing off and neither of us will survive it.”
“So that’s it. We go to work and pretend this never happened? Just smile politely at each other across the still room?”
There was a rumble in his chest. As though he was trying to laugh but couldn’t. “I don’t know. I guess…”
“Maybe if we kissed again it wouldn’t be so good. We could get each other out of our systems.” It was a lie. She knew it and he did, too. She was bargaining, trying to find a way to feel his mouth move against hers again. Anything to quench the constant, pulsing need rushing through her body.
She was an addict desperate for a fix.
He pressed his hand against her back, pulling her closer, until her soft body was against his. She could feel the ridged plane of his abdomen, the thickness of his chest muscles, and the hard, aching need, that he was feeling for her.
“You want to know what I did when I got back to the office today?” he asked, his voice thick.
She blinked at the abrupt change in conversation. “What?”
“I spoke to my lawyer. Talked about ways to pay you off and get you to leave the company. How to avoid getting sued for being an absolute asshole.”
“I’d never sue you.”
“You should.”
She shook her head. “And I wouldn’t leave either. I love my job.”
“I know.” He sounded lost. “And that’s why I told him it was impossible. You love your job, I own the company. We’re at an impasse.”