by Beth Andrews
That was the problem. He felt as if she was lying in wait for him. He’d already snuck out of his room at the earliest convenience, grabbed breakfast and coffee from downstairs and brought it up here to eat so he wouldn’t run in to her. Even then he’d felt like an idiot, looking around the corner before stepping onto the second floor, just to make sure she wasn’t in the hall.
“Get your coat,” she said.
“Excuse me?”
She frowned at him. “I’m not sure how else to say that. Put your coat on. Your jacket? That piece of outerwear I’m sure you bought in some fancy boutique in downtown Houston that has a designer’s name stitched on the hand-sewn label and cost what most people spend for a month of groceries. Put that on your person. Please.”
“First of all, I’m not C.J. I don’t shop at boutiques. Second of all, my jacket was regular price, so no families went hungry because of me and, before you can ask me where it came from, it was made in the good old US of A, which I’m hoping means that no child labor was used in the production of it.” Although it was a nice jacket and, yes, designer. Should he apologize for owning a nice coat? “Thirdly, why would I want to put it on?”
“Because it’s cold outside.” She crossed to the small closet, opened it and pulled his jacket off the hanger. “I mean, I’ve seen some people walking around without winter coats—and a few kids in shorts, which is just really weird because it’s below freezing out there—but I figured you’d want to wear one.”
She tossed it at him, leaving him no choice but to catch it. “I’m not going out.”
“Of course you are. It’s lunchtime and I’m hungry. Plus, I’m pretty sure you haven’t been out of your room all day.” She eyed him shrewdly. “You’re not hiding from me, are you?”
Because, damn it, he had been, warmth suffused the back of his neck. “I’ve been working.” He indicated his open laptop on the small desk, along with files he’d brought from the office. “Not hiding.”
“Sure, sure. Whatever you say.”
Obviously she wasn’t buying a word of it. She was too perceptive.
“Well, now it’s break time,” she continued, slipping on her coat. “And if you have any gloves, you’re going to want to put them on, too. A hat wouldn’t be bad, either.”
And with that she tugged on a bright red knit cap over her hair.
“I’m not going to lunch,” he told her.
“Sure you are. You have to eat. And I’m starving, so...chop, chop.” She clapped twice. When he didn’t move, she sighed. Rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on. What’s the problem?”
“The problem is I have work.”
“All work and no play makes Oakesy a grumpy boy.”
“No, it made Oakesy a full partner before his thirty-fifth birthday.”
She snorted. “Please. You’re a Bartasavich. You could have just told them you wanted to be partner. I’m sure they would have jumped at the chance to have you without you putting in so much overtime.”
“I don’t use my last name to get ahead,” he said coolly. “I earn my own way.”
And it pissed him off that she’d think otherwise.
“See? Grumpy. And sensitive, too. Let’s get you some food, some fresh air and some really excellent company in the form of moi. You’ll come back full, refreshed and ready to tackle the rest of those law briefs or boring court transcripts or whatever it is lawyers read. And, best of all, it’s my treat. Really, you’re getting a great deal here.”
“What if I don’t want a great deal?”
She sent him a considering look. “Well, then I guess I’d just have to accept that.” But something in her tone told him there was more to it than that. She walked over to him and patted his chest. He stiffened, his breath locking in his lungs. “Yes, I would have to accept defeat gracefully and just...hang out here until you change your mind.”
With a whoop, she leaped onto his bed, landing on her back. She rolled over to her side, propped herself up on an elbow and grinned at him. “You go on,” she said, waving the fingers of her other hand. “Get back to work.”
Work with her lying on his bed, her coat open, exposing how well that sweater fit her, her cheeks now even more pink from wearing that hat and coat inside?
She sighed and rolled onto her back, her arms spread out, her face tipped toward the ceiling. “Fay said this house is over one hundred years old. How cool is that to think that some other woman stared up at this exact same ceiling in a time before cell phones and cars and planes?”
He sat down at his desk, determined to wait her out. Made a noncommittal sound, mulling over her words—he was pretty sure there were cars one hundred years ago. But he wasn’t letting her drag him into a conversation. Especially one so inane and meant only to distract him. To manipulate him into giving her what she wanted.
“It must have been boring back then,” Daphne continued, sitting up now. “Especially for a woman, as most weren’t allowed to work or get an education. I can’t imagine sitting around all day, doing embroidery or whatever it was they did. No wonder they had so many kids. I mean, yeah, birth control was pretty much nonexistent, but what else was there to do all day except have sex? At least it would help pass the time, would kill a good fifteen minutes or so.”
As he reread the passage he’d already gone over twice, yet couldn’t remember a word of, his jaw clenched. He would not fall for it. Would not even think about her and sex or the fact that if that’s how long she thinks the act lasted, she’s been with the wrong men.
And that only had him thinking of her being with another guy, which amped up his irritation.
Damn it.
She shifted again, the bed bouncing as she scooted to the edge, sat with her legs swinging, her calves thump, thump, thumping the bed frame, driving him to distraction. “Don’t get me wrong, I like kids,” she continued. “Just in case it came across that I don’t. I’m all for them. Just in smaller numbers. I’m thinking I’ll have two. Three tops, and that’s only if the first two are the same gender as I’d like one of each.” He felt her studying him, but that didn’t stop the thumping sound. “Males seem to run in the Bartasavich family, huh? Other than Kane’s daughter. I’ll probably end up with a bunch of nephews first before I have my own kids since I still have so much schooling to get through, but who knows. Zach likes to pretend that he’s too much of a lone wolf to ever get married, do the whole husband-and-father thing. Now he’s using his injuries as an excuse to remain single but he lost his arm and leg, not his—”
Oakes slammed the laptop shut. Stood. “Okay. Let’s go.”
He went around the desk, grabbed his coat and shrugged it on.
“If I would have known that was all it would take,” Daphne said, “I would have brought up Zach’s penis earlier.” She frowned. “Wait. Ew. That didn’t come out quite the way I meant. Pretend I didn’t say that last part.”
“With pleasure.” He held open the door. “One hour,” he told her as they stepped into the hall and he shut and locked the door behind them. “That’s all. I have work I want to get done before the rehearsal dinner.”
“Well, I can’t promise anything, but I’ll do my best to make sure you are back here, safe, sound, fed and happy an hour from now.”
They went outside and he turned to head toward his rental car. “Let’s walk,” she said. “The restaurant Fay suggested is only a few blocks away.”
“It’s freezing. And snowing,” he pointed out.
“Come on,” she said, linking her arm through his and tugging him down the sidewalk. “It’ll be an adventure. And it’s so pretty. If we walk fast enough, we won’t feel the cold.”
“Your nose is already red,” he said, falling into step beside her.
She rolled her eyes. “Okay, if we walk fast enough, we won’t feel the cold quite as much.”
&
nbsp; How could he resist? She looked so pretty and happy, snowflakes collecting on her hat, clinging to her dark eyelashes. An adventure. That’s what she said. He felt like every moment with her was an adventure. He wished he didn’t find the idea of it so appealing, didn’t find her so interesting.
“So I’ve been doing some thinking,” Daphne said after they’d managed to walk an entire block and a half in silence. “And I realize what the problem was.”
“I’m almost afraid to ask. What problem are you referring to?”
“Our kiss.”
He would have stopped—would have turned around and gone right back to his room—but she tightened her grip, as if sensing he wanted to bolt. “The only problem with that kiss, Daphne, was that it was a mistake.”
One he regretted. If he could take it back, he would. But in the end, it had proved that there wasn’t anything between them. The attraction he felt had fizzled when push came to shove.
“It was a mistake,” she agreed, all at ease and cheerful, which immediately had him suspicious. “It never should have happened. At least not like that. But it’s okay.” She patted his hand with her free one. “I forgive you.”
He stopped abruptly. She kept walking and was jerked back. “You forgive me?”
Facing him, she nodded sagely. “Of course. I was partly to blame. I wasn’t expecting it, you kissing me. Not at that point. And, of course, I’d built up what our first kiss would be like, the magic of it, the imaginary music and little hearts dancing around our heads, the pure perfection of it all. It fell flat, of course, but as I said, I’m willing to accept my part in that. I should have known that nothing could live up to my fantasies. Plus, the more I thought about it, the more I realized what the real problem was. I was angry at you.”
She’d thought of kissing him? Had fantasized about it? He really didn’t need to know that. It made it that much harder to keep his hands to himself. To not kiss her again.
“I apologize,” he said, though he wasn’t sure he should since she’d just admitted she’d dreamed of his kiss. “If I came on too strong.”
She waved that away. “You didn’t. That’s not why I was angry.”
“It’s not?”
She shook her head. “I was angry that you turned what should have been a magical moment into some sort of lesson in self-control. You definitely ruined my fantasy, but I realized that might just be a good thing. You made a mistake last night. A huge one. Now we’re on even ground. I finally see that you’re not perfect and that’s good. If you were really perfect, you might expect the same from me and I am about as far from perfection as can be. But now that I know you’re a regular, mortal man, complete with flaws, bad moods and capable of making horrible decisions, it’s so much easier for me to be myself.”
He considered himself a logical man. An intelligent one. A reasonable one. Yet around her, he couldn’t think straight. “Let me see if I’ve got this right. You’re angry with me because you think I kissed you to test my self-control?”
“Yes. But more than that, I think you’ve been wanting to kiss me and this was your way of getting it out of your system. A way of proving to yourself that it was just curiosity and that there’s nothing between us except platonic friendship.”
Either she’d taken a course in mind-reading, or she knew him well. Better, he worried, than anyone else.
He wanted, badly, to deny it. To tell her she was way off base. But he wasn’t a liar. He’d dive headfirst into a snowbank before he admitted it, but she was one hundred percent correct. He had been hoping to get her out of his system. He’d gone back to his room last night telling himself he was relieved their kiss had been a miserable, awkward experience. That it only proved how unsuitable they were for each other.
Too bad he hadn’t believed it. He’d wanted, more than anything, to knock on her door, take her into his arms and kiss her again. And again. Until they got it right.
“And what, exactly, was the horrible decision I made?” he asked, not really wanting to know, but it was the best way he could think to avoid commenting on her accusation.
“Not kissing me again, of course. I’m an excellent kisser, you know.” She laughed. “Oops. Guess you don’t know but believe me there are plenty of men—and one woman, but that was only that one time during freshman year at college—to attest to that fact.”
She was killing him.
“Don’t worry, it’s okay.” Another pat on the hand. “Although it wouldn’t hurt for you to apologize for messing up what should have been a monumental moment between us.”
“You want me to apologize?”
“It’s only polite,” she murmured. “And it’ll make the next time we kiss all that much better. Like a clean slate between us.”
“We are not going to kiss again,” he said, trying to mean it, but he didn’t even sound convincing to himself. He sounded desperate.
As if sensing his weak willpower, she smiled...a feminine, knowing smile. “Okay.”
“I mean it, Daphne. Don’t kiss me.”
She widened her eyes. Blinked innocently. “I hadn’t planned on it.”
“I know what you’re doing,” he said, his voice harsh. Angry. “You’re trying to lure me in, messing with my head. Trying to get me to break.”
“Oh, Oakes.” She cupped his face with her gloved hand. “I would never want to break you.”
But she pushed and pushed with her bright smile and light laugh and endless chatter. She tempted with her curvy body and pretty face. Beckoned him to forget all the reasons he couldn’t be with her, couldn’t have her. Threatened his resolve and made him want to take a risk. Just once.
“I’m not going to kiss you,” he told her gruffly. But he was pulling her toward him slowly. So slowly she could stop him at any time. Instead, she yielded.
“If you say so.”
“If I do,” he said, a desperate man fighting a losing battle, looking for a way to justify his actions, “it’s only to prove, again, that there’s nothing there.”
But his words were weak. How could they be anything but when he was drawing her nearer, his arms wrapping around her waist, his legs spread wide to make room for her.
“If that’s what you need to tell yourself,” she whispered.
It was. He wished he could believe it, too. Eyes on hers, he lowered his head and pressed his mouth to hers. Her lips were cold, but he warmed them, moved over them and deepened the kiss as he pulled her closer. Wished they weren’t wearing heavy coats, that he could feel more than just a hint of her curves against him, but then, maybe it was better this way.
He was in enough trouble as it was.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THIS, DAPHNE THOUGHT, this was how she’d imagined it.
The world was silent and cold, snow swirled around them as Oakes’s lips moved over hers. The kiss was sweet, almost reverent, but she tasted the desire underneath the lazy motions of his mouth, in the way his hands fisted her coat at her back.
It was...magical.
Pure and honest, he wasn’t hiding from her now, wasn’t holding back and it was all she could do to hold on herself. Her hands clutched his broad shoulders, her head spun, her blood warmed.
A car honked and she sensed Oakes coming back to himself, coming back to reality. She wanted to cry. Wanted to stamp her foot and demand he stay there, right there, in the kiss, with her, stay in that warm bubble they’d created, just the two of them. But she was already losing him. He lifted his head fractionally and then, as if he couldn’t resist himself, kissed her again, a gentle brushing of his mouth over hers before he kissed her right cheek, then her left, then the tip of her very frigid nose.
He lifted his head but she kept her eyes closed for a moment longer, just a moment to fully capture what had happened, to memorize it, hold it close. Slowly,
in a daze, she opened her eyes, found him staring at her.
She wasn’t sure what she’d expected. For him to be angry? Honestly, she wouldn’t blame him as she’d pretty much tricked him into that kiss. For him to be upset with her, that was a given. Possibly even regretful, now that she thought about it. But she didn’t want him to feel any negative emotions. She supposed what she did want—for him to swoop her up into his arms and carry her back to his room, where he’d declare his love and devotion to her—was a bit too much to expect right now.
She’d never been much for patience or waiting for things to happen. But now, with Oakes? She’d wait because she had to. She’d wait because he was going to be worth it, no matter how long it took.
What she hadn’t expected was for him to be staring at her, looking dazed and slightly punch-drunk, a crease forming between his eyebrows. Or for him to sigh, the crease to disappear before he grinned a small, self-depreciating smile.
“I guess I showed you,” he said in his deep voice.
She blinked. Then laughed, her relief so great that he wasn’t upset with her—or himself. At least not enough to act on it right now.
“You did. Anytime you want to teach me a lesson like that, you go right ahead. I’m a slow learner. But right now,” she continued, knowing it was a lot for him, the kiss, the obvious connection between them throwing him for a loop, “let’s get to the restaurant. I’m starving and we only have forty-five minutes left on your self-imposed lunch break.”
Once again she looped her arm with his. Partly because, yes, she wanted that contact, but also because, yes, she wanted to test him. See what his reaction would be. Would he pull free? Try and pretend what had happened between them hadn’t? That it had been an aberration?
She needn’t have worried and felt guilty over wondering in the first place. He didn’t pull away or even stiffen at her touch. On the contrary, he pulled her closer. Then again, she shouldn’t have considered he’d act any other way. It wasn’t as if Oakes would shove her to the ground or insist she walk two steps behind him after kissing the daylights out of her on a street corner.