The smart thing would have been to swap places with Gambit, or better still, get on the first flight home and send somebody else in my place, but after seeing those photographs and understanding the seriousness of the situation, there was no way I was leaving Saint McClure, at least not until I’d caught the fucker tormenting her.
The air between us felt charged, as if there was a storm brewing, and I was about to get caught up in its force. It was becoming clear that I wouldn’t be able to ignore her pull. Maybe I should just tell her once and for all how her disappearing from my life had shredded me.
Or maybe I needed to keep my big ol’ mouth shut and just let things play out in the way they were meant to. Saint was going through a lot, and the last thing she wanted was an old flame piling on the pressure.
My job was to make her life easier, not to make her feel even more uncomfortable. I was the help, and she was my boss, my ward, and a client. She was the woman I was being paid to protect. Therefore, I needed to keep my mind on the goddamned job.
Except I couldn’t keep denying her pull.
The truth was, I hadn’t just missed her. She’d been missing from me. And I didn’t quite know what to do with that.
Saint glanced up from her notepad, and our eyes locked.
Something flashed behind her expression, and then her face blanked of all emotion as she mentally pulled herself together. Her appearance may have changed, but she still wore her heart on her sleeve, and it was acomfort that despite all her success, she hadn’t lost that quality.
The urge to kiss her reared up again, but instead of going outside, grabbing her by the throat, and angling her face into a position to take my tongue, I broke our stare, went to her refrigerator, and pulled out a pitcher of juice with fruit floating in it. After pouring two glasses, I carried them outside, approached the sun lounger, and handed her one.
The familiar scent of her perfume—hints of jasmine and vanilla—wrapped around my senses. A memory flashed through my mind of tasting Saint’s skin while I moved inside her, and my cock stirred.
She must’ve picked up on my dirty thoughts because her cheeks pinked up prettily. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, a nervous habit I remembered from our life-changing—at least for me—night together.
“You wearin’ sunscreen?” I asked, sounding like a fucking idiot.
She grinned and gazed up at me with azure eyes. “Yeah, but thanks for caring.”
I let out a snort and walked over to the shaded table on the patio where we’d sat earlier and flopped down in a chair, making sure to manspread to fuck so Saint could get a good look at my junk.
Her eyes went there immediately, and I bit back a smirk.
Not so fucking immune after all.
“Whatcha doin’?” I asked.
“Writing.”
“Whatcha writing?”
“A song.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “Just like that? You’re writing a song?”
“Well, contrary to popular belief, they don’t write themselves, Jacob,” she sassed. “And contrary to the asshole naysayers, nobody writes them for me.”
I leaned forward, elbows to knees, drink hanging from my fingers. “Talk to me like that again, and I’ll put you over my knee.”
She burst out laughing. “You’d have to catch me first.”
“I’ll lock you in my lair,” I threatened, a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.
She hitched a pretty, dark eyebrow. “Or maybe I’ll lock you in mine.”
A chuckle escaped my throat, and I took a sip of my drink. “I wouldn’t know the first thing about writing a song. It must be pretty complicated.”
She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “It’s as complicated as you make it. I find clearing my head and letting my emotions do the talking is the best way to get the words out. It’s like any other job; you have good days and bad days. Sometimes, everything flows and seems to come together all by itself. Other days, you have to work at it.” She smiled. “Maybe I’ll give you a lesson sometime.”
I leaned back in my chair, crossing my legs at the ankle. “I’d need more than a few lessons to match your talent.”
Her smile faded, and she murmured, “Flattery will get you everywhere, Jacob.”
