His voice trails off, and I desperately want him to finish that sentence, but he doesn’t. Instead, he says, “You are lovely, Brianna, and if the circumstances allowed for it, I would throw you over my shoulder and take you back out to the sea to pick up where we left off.”
“That would be a terrible idea for a number of reasons—not the least of which is that we’re well-past caveman days when throwing a woman over your shoulder was considered acceptable behaviour.”
“Quite right. I wouldn’t really have done that, unless you’re into that sort of thing and clearly indicated…wait a minute, a terrible idea for a number of reasons?”
“Boss, employee,” I say, pointing back and forth between us. “Single mum with complicated life, man from another country who is not likely to stay beyond six months, I’m guessing.”
“All solid points in favour of friend-zoning this relationship.”
I nod firmly, pretending my entire body isn’t coursing with lust. “Well, good thing Jolene came around when she did.”
“Definitely,” he says, glancing at my lips. “Because if we’d done what I think we were going to…”
“It would have been a disaster,” I say, gazing into his eyes.
“A really long, sweaty, incredibly satisfying disaster,” he says in a low tone. Taking a couple of steps toward me, he gives me that look that makes my legs turn to mush. I just start to think maybe he’ll decide to risk it all for one night of perfection with me, but then he closes his eyes and exhales sharply. When he opens them, he says, “Employee, boss. Guy who needs to get his shit together, single mum with far too much on her plate. You need to be with someone who has mastered the art of being an adult, and the fact that I was about to do what I was about to do proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that I am no such man.”
CHAPTER 23
After the Perfect Non-Date Date
Brianna
Time to face the music. And by that, I mean I’m on my way to pick up Isabelle at my parents’ house. Amber’s probably called to tell them what an awful person I am, which will prevent me from making my quick in-and-out stop to grab my child and run.
I pull onto the street where I grew up and drive granny-slow while I try to come up with some way of avoiding the inevitable fight I’m heading toward. So far, all I’ve got is, “says you” in a saucy tone. Truth be told, I haven’t been able to concentrate on much of anything since I got home from the beach and said goodnight to Leo. I laid awake most of the night replaying the entire day over and over. Sometimes, I ran through it while focussing on his voice, his tones, and his words. The next replay was all about his face, his smile, his incredible body. If I could write an exam on my recollection of my time with Leo Davenport yesterday, I’m sure I’d walk out with a perfect score.
I need to stop, but I can’t seem to shake him from my mind. It’s like I’m drunk on him, even though we haven’t so much as kissed each other.
The truth of it—and it’s a truth so inconvenient I can hardly stand to acknowledge it—is that I’ve never felt this way about a man before. Not even Roderick. I’m caught up in Leo like I never thought possible. I want him. All of him. And I’m not just talking about sex, although sex definitely is part of the equation. I’m desperately craving some sweaty sideways salsa time with Leo. The dance, not the food, which would be odd and quite icky if combined with sex. It would possibly burn your skin as well, depending on the spice level, now that I think of it. Anyway, as pathetic as it is, I crave him like he’s the Easter chocolate in the cupboard that I don’t eat because it belongs to Isabelle.
Unfortunately, the man who has me all hot and bothered (at a time in my life when I really cannot afford to be hot and bothered) has sworn an oath of celibacy. So even if he was up for it—and I think you and I both know he is based on how he acted at the beach last night—he’s definitelynotgoing to help me shag my troubles away. No matter how much I wish he would.
Speaking of troubles, there’s my mum now, standing in front of their white bungalow, watering the flowerbed. She’s dressed in a trendy T-shirt dress that displays the thin, tanned legs that could belong to a much younger woman. No one driving by would think she’s a nice little old grandma watering her flowers. But then she’s not always that nice, and she really isn’t old. I made her a grandmother far before she was ready.
I park on the driveway, wishing she was in the house so I could sit here for another minute and try to gather my thoughts. But like most things in life, you don’t get what you wish for, you get what you get. In this case, I get a pointed look from my mother as soon as I step out of the car.
“Hello, Mum,” I say, dragging my feet as I walk up the sidewalk.
“How was your study-marathon?” she asks, turning off the hose.
What? She’s not going after me to find out what happened in Isla del Sol? Oh, I get it. She’s just lulling me into a false sense of security before she pounces.
“Good,” I lie. “Thanks so much for keeping Isabelle for me. I made a lot of progress.”
“Well, your dad and I are here to help. And we love having our Izzy time.”
“Where is she, by the way?” I ask, excitement building in me at the thought of a tight hug from my little munchkin.
“In the pool with your dad,” she says, setting the hose down on the grass. “She’ll be wrinkled up for weeks.”
Chuckling a little, I say, “She takes after her mother.”
“Your dad and I were just saying this morning how much she reminds us of you.” She starts for the back gate, and I follow her, wondering when she’s going to begin the inquisition. When she reaches the gate, she turns to me. “I suppose you don’t want to talk about what happened between you and Amber.”
Now I get it. She wanted to do the pleasant-chat thing in the front garden in case any of the neighbours are spying. “You’re right, I don’t.”
“I tried to warn you.”
