“I only need one or two good shots and we can wrap this up.”
“Sure.” I nod. “Great.”
This won’t be awkward at all.
I turn to Nick and our eyes lock. I have no idea what he’s thinking—probably that this is a terrible idea—but he doesn’t protest, so I cup my hands together and pucker up.
His gaze drops to my mouth and heat sizzles along my skin as we face each other for what feels like an eternity, waiting for the camera’s flash.
It never comes.
Kylie clears her throat, breaking the tension. “Ready when you are, Nick.”
He glances down at the gilded bow in his hand as if just remembering he’s supposed to be posing with it. With deft fingers he loads the arrow and uses it to pull the bowstring back, looking every bit the modern Cupid. And for the briefest moment, I can’t help but wonder what would happen if he actually let it fly.
Chapter Fourteen
Nick
“Thank God that’s over.” I hold the showroom door open and Scarlett breezes through, tilting her face to the sun as she steps out onto the sidewalk, tablet in hand. “What’s left on the list?”
“Only everything.” She stretches, extending her arms over her head and arching her back with feline grace. It’s a harmless gesture, but tell that to my cock. “We’ve barely made a dent in this list.” She grins and her eyes dance with laughter. “We’d get it done a lot faster ifsomeonedidn’t ask so many questions.”
“You know what they say.” The look she gives me suggests that no, she does not know what they say, so I add, “There’s no such thing as a stupid question.”
Total bullshit. I’ve heard some real head-scratchers in my position, but I’m not about to point out that it’s her endless list—not my questions—that’s the problem.
“I think we can file that under ‘lies our parents told us,’” she says, rolling her eyes. “Right next to the Tooth Fairy and the stork.”
I spin, stepping in front of her, and throw up a hand. “Hold up. Are you saying the stork isn’t real?”
“Afraid not.” She chuckles under her breath, and her attention shifts back to her tablet. Probably so she can tick one more item off that mile-long list. “And before you ask, no, I will not tell you where babies come from.”
“Now who’s the wet blanket?” The words are out before I can stop them. Low, husky, and filled with challenge. Which is ridiculous because the last thing we should be discussing is sex.
Scarlett’s head jerks up and her eyes lock on mine as a slow flush spreads over her cheeks, staining them pink.
Beautiful.
She’s absolutely beautiful. I was a fool not to see it before.
Because it’s not in the way her features have been naturally formed, but in the way she commands them, arranging them like battle armor one moment and smoothing them to quiet contemplation the next. It’s in the resolute set of her jaw. The determination that brightens her eyes, blue flames against her fair skin. The sharp mind and even sharper tongue, which are easy to miss if you aren’t paying attention. And in her laugh. So genuine and fiercely guarded, never given freely, making it even more alluring.
Fuck.
Scarlett fiddles with her glasses, this time removing them and using the cuff of her blouse to wipe at a spot on the lens. “We—” She clears her throat and gestures to the parking lot. “We should probably get moving or we’re going to be at this all night.”
She’s right. I never should have gone there.
“All night?” The possibility isn’t nearly as unappealing as it should be, considering I already lost thirty minutes straightening my desk this morning. All because some asshole—probably Miles or a member of the cleaning crew—moved all my stuff around. “Jesus. Who knew this social would be so much work?”
Scarlett arches a brow. Fair enough. The only jackass who didn’t immediately grasp the scale of this event is me. You can bet your ass I won’t make that mistake twice.
If Miles and Beck want to implement any more suggestion box ideas, they’re on their own.
“Before we go, let’s grab a coffee.” I nod to the café across the street. “Something tells me I’m going to need caffeine to get through this afternoon.”
Ten minutes later, we’re seated in the small café, steaming mugs in hand as the barista grinds beans behind the counter, drowning out the indie rock that quietly drifts from the overhead speakers.
