He gestured to the glass in her hand. "I'm sorry," he said apologetically. "But you're drinking my wine."
It took a while but the faux pas was sorted, Joel appeared to be none the worse for his admission, a three course dinner was served, and following the main Daisy excused herself to go to the bathroom.
She stood up and as she pushed her chair in, she glanced at Joel. He was turned slightly away from her, talking to the man on his side.
Her breath suddenly caught in her throat.
He'd been attentive to her all evening and when she wasn't starstruck, she'd been aware of him. Physically aware of him. He'd laughed, he'd joked, he'd charmed, and she'd noticed the women watching him when they'd got tired of the movie couple. Daisy's gaze skipped to the Hollywoods a moment. They didn't eat. Daisy suspected the wife wouldn't eat much but the husband as well? That had been most fascinating, Daisy had thought as she'd resisted the temptation to bring the whole plate up to her face to taste the last delicious drops of the divine sauces.
She left the table and made her way out of the dining room when she felt a prickle up her spine. Glancing sharply around, her gaze collided with Joel's. Her breath hitched. He was watching her – watching her so intently her pulse began to race faster.
For a second she stopped as everything around her went strangely still.
Then he gave her a quick smile before he turned back to the table.
A strange nervous energy trailed her as she headed straight for the restrooms, and as soon as she was in front of the basins, she gripped the bench and with her heart racing, she stared at her reflection.
What had that been? Joel looking at her like that?
You're imagining it. She cupped her hands under the cold water and drank to moisten her dry-as-a-desert throat.
It was just a reaction to him, like some sixteen-year-old girl. He isn't looking at you in that way.
He isn't attracted to you. He couldn't be.
She stared back at her reflection. Her cheeks were flushed.
Just the red wine, she told herself and checked her clothes to make sure none had dribbled on to her shirt or jacket.
Her mind slipped back to Joel and, confused, she replayed the moment in her mind.
Impossible.
He'd been sitting at a table with beautiful women in designer frocks hanging on to his every word.
She was just Daisy. Mystery Date Daisy. Blind date Daisy.
The door suddenly opened and she glanced up.
The actress. Walking into the ladies.
Daisy stared, swallowed, wiped an errant dribble of water from her chin.
The actress smiled, her eyebrows lifted in acknowledgement as she drifted, yes, she actually drifted, into a stall.
There was light music playing in the restrooms, enough to afford a degree of dignity, and as the door shut, Daisy glanced across at the stall.
Should she strike up a conversation if she came out, compliment her on her dress or her last role without sounding like a demented fan or even worse, a stalker? Was there even a difference between the two?
But she could take forever in there – especially if she was waiting for privacy so she could throw up what pathetic amount of food she'd actually eaten – and then Daisy would actually be a stalker. No doubt she had plenty of those in her life without the invited guests at the captain's – the manager's – table turning out to be one, too.
The toilet flushed and a moment later she stepped out of the stall, and Daisy remembered she'd been in here far too longer than was prudent and hastily left the bathroom.
As she walked back to the restaurant, Joel was walking towards her, hands in his trouser pockets.
He looked unwaveringly at her and something about that look made her pulse quicken.
"Miss me already?" she joked. Now her heart was doing a crazy dance in her chest.
He seemed to loom over her. "Of course I did. I'm just heading to the men's now to repair my make up." Then he was serious. "Are you enjoying yourself? It's hard to tell with the distraction of the Hollywoods."
"I am having a great time. The gentleman next to me – once we sorted out who had whose wine – was interested in my store and said he'd definitely bring his wife to visit if he's ever in New Zealand."
"Is she a–" He snapped his fingers. "What was that term? A clock?"
"A ticking clocker." She felt some of that weird tension ease. A fraction. "She might have been once. Hopefully old habits die hard."
He glanced over her head, nodded to someone behind her and said, "I'll see you back in there, Daisy."
He left and the actress appeared at her side. It was clear that unless she rudely ran off, they were going to have to converse. Make small talk.
Daisy smiled.
The actress smiled back. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name," she murmured as they walked back to their table.
"Daisy. Daisy Miller."
"You're Australian?"
"From New Zealand." She added, "Joel and me both. He's an historian; I run a bookstore."
"Oh, I love reading, it is so important. I've been teaching our children to read, I'm just passionate about literacy." She gestured ahead. "Come and meet my partner, he's looking lonely," and her hand, her slender manicured hand, rested on Daisy's sleeve as she joined him and said, "Darling, this is Daisy. She's from New Zealand and owns a book store."
"Noo Zealand." He stood up, his charming face breaking into a wide grin. "I've been to Noo Zealand. Fabulous place. Spent a weekend in Queenstown once. Beautiful country down there."
Daisy felt her face go pink. "I've never actually been down there."
He hooted. "You've got to see your own country. So what kind of bookstore do you own?"
She described her new collection, and he nodded intently. "We're big on reading in our house. Have to be with all those kids to teach."
Out the corner of her eye she saw Joel stroll back and even though she was standing next to one of the sexiest men alive, she couldn't help casting discreet glances his way.
The actor said, "Is that your husband?"
"Joel?" Had she been that obvious? "No. We're not together."
He raised his eyebrows and she explained, "We ended up on a TV show together. It's a long complicated story but we're here now."
She glanced back at Joel, annoyed with herself.
Annoyed with the way Joel was beginning to stake a claim on her attention. On her heart.
And the problem was that he wasn't some celluloid hero she would say goodbye to in a few days and adore from the darkness of the cinema.
He was real.
He was far, far too real.
When they'd finished dessert, Joel and Daisy excused themselves. It was late but Daisy felt alternately buzzed and exhausted.
The last few days, she realized as they walked across the lobby to the lift bank, had been tiring – with trying to get the shop sorted and getting ready for the trip.
She stifled a yawn and hadn't realized she'd done so till Joel commented, "I'm feeling a bit like that myself."
She glanced disbelievingly at him. He looked anything but tired. In fact, from the look of him he could go another workout at the gym. They stopped at the lifts and he reached past her to press the button.
The movement, the closeness as he did so, made her nerves tingle.
They'd been doing that all night. She should be used to it but she wasn't because each time it was new and fresh and each time felt so amazingly, unnervingly good.
He looked at her as he stood back and their gazes held.
Too intense.
Too real.
She looked straight ahead as the lift door opened.
"You first," he gestured. She stepped inside.
He pressed the button for their floor, again glanced at her. Again, she couldn't look away, couldn't drag her eyes away from the stunning blue-gray color of his.
The door slid silently shut.
The lift began to move.
/>
Silence settled between them and around them, so quietly she could hear her heart beating.
She focused on the lit-up panel, followed the lift's progression, aware of Joel standing next to her, aware that if she moved a few inches she would touch him.
He moved, his hip bumped hers and she froze.
It was unbearable
She blurted, "What are we doing tomorrow?"
She felt him glance sideways at her. "There's the afternoon tea at 3pm." His voice was calm. "But other than that," he went on, "it's a free day. What would you like to do?"
What would she like to do? She wanted to reach over and grab him and yell at him, Can't you feel this, can't you feel this unbearable tension in the air right now? Don't you feel any of this smothering, consuming tension exploding around us? Is it just me?
Instead she rattled off a list. "Buy a new dress. Do some sightseeing. Take advantage of the luxury treatments." She glanced at her hands "The many, many, many treatments."
The lift stopped and the door slid open.
Joel gestured for Daisy to go first, then followed her.
The tension had gone a bit.
She felt a little more normal. She breathed a sigh of relief as they walked the short distance down the corridor to their suites and stopped at her door.
She fished in her evening bag for her key card and glanced at him.
He was watching her.
She shivered. Oh, yeah. It was still there.
She zipped up her bag.
His hands were shrugged ever so casually in his pockets as he stood not moving, watching her. His eyes were intent – and something else.
Something new...
He was feeling it, too.
The revelation was like an explosion of glorious light in her mind.
He had felt it.
"You know something," he said suddenly.
She swallowed down, couldn't look away even if she tried.
He said, "Even though you were disappointed you didn't have some flash gown like our friends back there, you rocked it."
She hadn't expected that and her eyebrows arched. "I rocked it?"
"Yeah." His teeth flashed, the corners of his mouth curled. "You did."
She felt her legs go weak. "Isn't that something one of your students would say?"
"I'm not that much older than my students that I can't get away with phrases like that," he said, mock insulted.
She'd rocked it.
"I'm serious." He'd moved closer to her. "You did, Daisy. You looked terrific tonight."
She could barely take a breath. "I'm flattered you say that. I was kicking myself for not bringing more clothes with me."
They were even closer now, the scent of sweet wine and divine male mingling together and it was intoxicating. She struggled to think straight amidst the acute awareness humming almost painfully through her. She said, "It wasn't as if we had a luggage allowance to worry about, after all."
The corners of his mouth curled up in amusement. "No. No luggage allowance at all. Funny how life works sometimes." He moved, his mouth now closer to her ear. Her eyes drifted shut as his stubble brushed the side of her cheek, then again, so lightly, so sexily it sent, impossibly, even more awareness pulsing through her.
How did he do that? Her heart rate was going through the roof.
His warm lips brushed over her cheek and she almost gave an audible gasp.
He paused.
Daisy held her breath.
Joel moved and in a split second, his mouth was on hers. Kissing her.
So soft, so possessive. The sensation so delicious.
He pulled her top lip between his, the pressure exquisite. He tasted of the sweet Muscat they'd sipped after dessert, of masculinity.
His lips moved over hers, deepening the kiss, and she pressed her body closer to him, losing all sense of time. Just aware that she was here and she was being kissed by Joel, and that her body felt as if it was going to combust with physical need for him...
He stopped.
Suddenly he pulled back.
Air rushed between them, startling her with its coolness.
She opened her eyes to stare straight into his dark eyes.
He looked... She couldn't read it. Wary. Maybe confused. Had this been an impulse he was regretting even though she'd felt that delicious awareness building up between them all night?
Even though now she knew he had, too. It hadn't been just her.
Slowly, he straightened and he said finally, "Don't underestimate yourself, Daisy."
Her breath froze in her throat as another feeling, another emotion, caught hold of her.
Had she done that?
She'd grown up feeling second best to her sisters, to Lionel's med student friends. To women like the Ticking Clockers she was now trying to woo into her store to keep her financially afloat.
Had she somehow sabotaged herself?
And why had he said that seconds after kissing the life out of her?
He said, "Sleep well."
He stepped back, and gestured for her to go indoors.
"Giving orders, Professor?" she said. In spite of the gap between them, the awareness was still there and it made her want to either run from its intensity or throw herself into his arms. She wasn't sure which.
"Not orders," he said. "It's just– " He stopped.
"Just what?" she prodded.
"It's just – caring," he said finally.
The look in his eyes was so real, she turned sharply, swiped her card and without looking back – fully aware he was watching her – she went into her room.
Chapter Nine
The following morning Daisy slept in, ordered a coffee from room service, and sat on the balcony which didn't connect to Joel's. His balcony was on the east side and she couldn't even peer around her wall to see if he was lounging in the morning sun.
She texted him to say she was awake and he texted her to say he was on the treadmill and he'd meet her in the lobby in an hour.
Romantic, she thought, then got rid of the thought and tried to think about her shop and how it was faring.
All she could think about was Joel dressed in shorts and maybe not even a T-shirt, sweat dripping from his face, down his neck, along his chest which was undoubtedly muscled and bronzed.
She hastily drained her coffee, went inside for a shower, and an hour later they met in the lobby.
Joel's hair was slicked back, giving him a bad-boy look in those faded jeans and T-shirt.
The jeans were some funky brand she'd never seen before and were clearly designer. "I like the outfit," she approved. She also liked the way his clothes stuck to his body.
His forehead creased as he glanced down at himself and gave a shrug. "I picked these up in France. Apparently the latest French fashion, or so I was told. The whole outfit was in a window. I liked the colors." He grinned. "Actually, I hate shopping. This was easy."
The colors. The fit. She inhaled sharply.
"I did think historians wore tweed jackets with leather elbow patches," she admitted. "And walk shorts with socks in summer."
He whistled. "You've got me pegged. Once I leave here, it's right back to– "
His voice suddenly cut off and he stared straight ahead.
"What is it?" she asked. He'd gone strangely still.
"It's nothing," he murmured but his voice was stilted, cold, and she followed his gaze.
Two bearded gray-haired men were walking towards them, deep in animated conversation.
One of the men saw him and did a double take as he stopped.
"Dr Benjamin." His voice was laced with disapproval. He cast his gaze over Joel's designer-faded jeans and perfectly fitted T-shirt, noted the dark stubble on his face. Frowned.
Joel held out his hand. "Professor Burke. Professor Vanderlay. What brings you both to Golden Grove?"
One of the professors cast his disapproving eyes over Daisy as he answered, "Rest and recreation. It has been a tryi
ng semester."
Joel began to say, "I'd like you both to meet–" when the professor's eyes widened. "Of course. That reality TV show you were on. A dating show?" His mouth tightened. "You won a date, Dr Benjamin." He scrutinized Daisy. "And you are the date, no doubt? A shop assistant?"
"Shop owner," Daisy corrected. Her spine tingled uncomfortably. "So you watched the show?"
He looked repulsed. "Of course not. But it is the talk of the campus." His gaze slid back to Joel and his mouth tightened unattractively. "And not in a particularly good way. As you are no doubt aware."
The tension was thick, so thick Daisy couldn't stand it. She quickly stuck out her hand as if to cut through it. "I'm Daisy. Daisy Miller."
He shook her hand with a weak and spongy grip.
The other gave a slightly more robust shake and said, "I'd offer my congratulations on winning this date." His lips flattened with sarcasm. "No doubt this will look impressive on your resume, Dr Benjamin. Along with your recent foray into Hollywood."
Daisy shot a quick look at Joel but for the first time since they'd been together, he looked utterly lost for words.
"Good day, Dr Benjamin." They both moved away without even a backward glance.
When they were nearly out of sight, Daisy turned to Joel. "Who on earth were they?"
He stared blankly after them as they vanished from view.
"Joel?" she prodded.
He looked sick.
"I need a drink." He spun on his heels and headed straight for the Pasifika bar.
Daisy followed him up to the counter where she pulled up the seat next to him. He signaled to the barman and ordered Scotch on the rocks.
He stared straight ahead, his jaw so tight she thought it would crack.
She'd give him thirty seconds then he had some explaining to do – although she'd pretty much figured out what had happened.
Ten seconds later he turned to her. "I'm sorry, Daisy. Forgive me my manners. What will you have to drink?"
She cast her glance at the shelf behind the bar. "Lemon, lime and bitters." As he gave the order she said, "I think right now one of us needs to stay sober."
He shook his head. "I'm sorry. I apologize. I should explain."
"I don't think you need to." His Scotch arrived and as she waited for her drink, she leant her elbows on the bar top. "They're something to do with this professor role you're interested in, right?"
Second Chances Boxed Set: 7 Sweet & Sexy Romances in 1 Book Page 74