“As an architect, don’t you want to build your own house?”
“Without question. But I’m waiting for input.”
“From?” I asked. When he didn’t answer, I smiled to myself. David was secretly romantic. Not so secretly around me, it turned out. But if I’d only known him by his reputation, I wouldn’t have guessed it.
“Finally, a smile,” he said, reappearing with a balled towel in his hand. He walked to me at the fireplace and touched my chin to get me to lift it.
“This might sting a little.” He gently pressed the towel to my cheek, and cold prickled my skin, my cut tingling. His gaze met mine a brief second, then shifted to the towel. “All right?”
This close, I could see the five o’clock shadow forming on his jaw. The dark, coarse bristles that had burned my lips when we’d kissed. We were nearly close enough to repeat the forbidden scene. He’d assured me his best behavior tonight, but he’d made me that same promise before.
And broken it.
I nodded. “Thank you.”
“You must be exhausted.”
I inhaled sharply as he adjusted the ice. “I never even asked if you were okay.” I didn’t see a scratch on him. The only indication of his scuffle were wrinkles in his dress shirt, a faint smudge of my blood on the crisp white fabric, and strands of his normally styled hair falling over his forehead. “Did he hurt you?” I asked.
“I’m perfectly fine.”
“Like a superhero,” I said without thinking, then bit my lip, as if that would retract the comment.
“Hardly.” He scoffed. “Although, I’ll admit—it isn’t easy to chase and subdue someone in dress shoes.”
I thought maybe I laughed, but it was only to cover up the fact that I felt as if I’d been sucker punched.Chase and subdue.That was what David had been metaphorically doing since the moment he’d met me. He’d found me at the bar during the ballet. Followed me to the balcony at Lucy’s. Come to my office to do the article.
But it wasn’t the metaphorical chase that made me lose my breath.
It was the vision of David acting out those verbs on me. Lust reared in me at the thought of David cornering me, tossing me over his shoulder, having his way with me despite all the reasons not to.
“Keep the towel there,” he said, jolting me from the fantasy. I took the ice. He disappeared again and returned with two pills, a glass of water, and a tube of Neosporin. I handed over the towel and gratefully took the painkillers.
“Let’s get you out of those clothes and into bed,” he said, and my head snapped up at what sounded like an invitation.
He tilted his head. “I have a guest room you can stay in, Olivia.”
“Of course,” I said with a shaky laugh. “I knew that.”
I followed him out of the living area as he showed me to a room furnished with nothing more than a queen-sized bed, two nightstands, and a dresser.
It was becoming obvious that despite David’s talent for design, he spent far more of it on his clients than on himself. Why?
He pointed across the room. “Bathroom,” he said, and added on his way out the door, “You can sleep in that t-shirt, but I’ll get you some bottoms.”
I removed his blazer and placed it over a chair. In the bathroom, I splashed cold water onto my face and examined the damage. David was right. The cut was minimal, and most of the blood had washed away. But I could already see the beginnings of a bruise forming around it. I dabbed antibiotic ointment on it, then tugged my fingers through my hair, but there was nothing I could do to improve the shadows under my eyes. I looked better suited for a night at the trailer park than as a guest in David’s spotless home.
“I’m a mess,” I said when he appeared in the mirror behind me.
“Yes, you are.” He sighed. “Somehow you still look exquisite.”
I rolled my eyes. “Okay.Sure.”
“Will either of these work?” He handed me folded black sweatpants and a pair of plaid boxers. “They’ll be a little big, of course. But it’s better than nothing at all.” His mouth popped open. “Well . . . notbetter. I’m perfectly fine with nothing if you are.”
I raised a scolding eyebrow at him and resisted from following that tempting path. Pulling taut the t-shirt he’d given me, I read in a teasing tone, “Turkey Trot?”
“If I’m in town for Thanksgiving, my dad and I usually run the 5K to support the local police department while my sister and mom prep dinner.”
