His smile deepened, lazy and knowing. “Then tell me what it is.”
“We had a one-night … thing.”
The words felt brittle. A lie. Because it had been so much more. The man had rocked her world. And shaken her heart loose in the process.
“One night?” He leaned forward, forearms resting on the table, his hand so close their pinkies almost touched. “Funny thing, Suze. I’ve been trying for weeks, but I can’t seem to forget.”
Neither could she. God help her, she’d tried.
But they’d both known it was a dead end. “Come on, Justin. Be real. Our worlds are so far—”
“I don’t care about worlds.” His voice was low, rough with feeling. “I have never felt this way about a woman before. Any woman.”
He lifted his hand, then dropped it again, issuing a slight huff. The fancy watch sporting a deep blue face and shiny silver strap screamed high-end even if she couldn’t name the make. It was different to the elegant one he wore at the wedding.
“Thoughts of you consume me, Suzette Bosch. To such an extent I’m here, asking,beggingyou to give us a chance.”
Her chest tightened, heart hammering against ribs that felt too small to contain it. Every nerve in her body screamed to reach for his hand, to confess her longing to be held in his arms again, to tell him she felt the same.
And yet …
She pulled back slightly, clasping her hands together. “You don’t understand. This … us … it’s a dead end. You know it, I know it.”
He leaned closer and captured her hands in his. “I see it differently. I see a possibility. Maybe even something wonderful.”
His hands were warm, broad, covering both of hers with ease. Heat pulsed through her, winding its way up her arm, straightto the hollow beneath her throat. She remembered those hands. Remembered the way they had traced the contours of her body with unhurried certainty, his touch carrying her to heights of passion she’d long since tucked away, places she hadn’t revisited. Until him.
Her throat constricted. Part of her wanted to throw caution to the wind, but another part — the smarter, prudent part — whispered warnings of heartbreak and impracticality.
She pulled her hands free and forced a shaky breath. “It won’t work. Not now. Not ever.”
And still, she couldn’t look away.
He sat back slowly, the brim of his cap throwing his face into shadow, leaving his expression unreadable. Yet she felt his gaze — even behind those dark lenses — tracing over her like a physical touch.
She squared her shoulders, pretending composure, though inside everything twisted tight into a restless, aching need she didn’t dare name.
When he spoke, his voice was low, smooth, and devastatingly intimate. The kind of tone that curled around her like silk and sunlight. “I’m here for two weeks, Suzette. Fourteen days. Give me that time to prove you’re wrong. To show you this isn’t just chemistry or madness. That it’s real.”
A beat passed. His head tipped. “And if, after that, you still feel the same … I’ll walk away.”
He nudged the white mug with its blue wavy trim toward her, the gesture casual, his voice anything but. “Now pour me some of that delicious brew,” he said softly, “and think about what I said. Please.”
The simple plea landed harder than it should have — quiet, earnest, cutting straight through her defenses. She hesitated, fingers tightening around the coffeepot, aware of the way his gaze followed every movement.
Suzette filled his cup, careful not to spill, though her hand shook just enough to betray her.
She didn’t trust herself to look at him. Not yet. Not when a single glance might make her say yes to fourteen days of heartbreak waiting to happen.
*
It took forever for her to lift her gaze to his again. Justin felt every second of that silence. The tension, the distance, the way her hand trembled just slightly as she set down the coffeepot. The faint jangle of her bracelets filled the space between them, bright and delicate against the heavy thud of his pulse. Beads rested against the hollow of her throat, catching the light as she breathed — small, earthy things that somehow made her seem even more unattainable.
He wanted to cross the space between them, to pull her close and kiss away every shred of hesitation, every reason she thought they couldn’t work. But he couldn’t. Not yet.
“Have dinner with me,” he said quietly. “Tonight. My place.”
The words hung between them — simple but charged. They carried far more than an invitation. It wasn’t just a meal he was asking for. It was a chance.
