She groaned. “Next, you’re going to call me an inspiration.”
“Definitely not. Your vibe is more like desperation.” Playfulness scampered across his lips.
“Shut it,” she parried back.
Despite his teasing tone, it filled her with pleasure. To be known. To have her enigma understood. And with flaws and all, to still be cherished. Her parents gave her that. Perhaps one day someone else would, too.
She thought about the kindness he showed her. On the one hand, it was soothing. On the other, it was her nature to wonder if, after making a commitment, he would abandon her, too. Sitting beside him, she didn’t want to acknowledge the risk of getting in too deep… too fast.
As if apropos of nothing, he casually said “You should come to our Fourth of July event.”
Her eyes narrowed, as if clearer vision could interpret his motivation. “Because…”
“Because Tammy asked.”
“Tammy?”
“I think her exact words were that she wouldn’t come unless you were there.”
“I thought you didn’t want me there.”
He turned to face her. “I’m sorry if I gave you that impression. I think Caleb’s being there threw me off.”
“I’ll come, sure, if you need Tammy there.”
“You know we do.”
“As long as I don’t have to wade out in the water.”
“Deal,” he said.
Mandy always said that fate repays childhood injustice with good fortune in adulthood. Orchid hoped her best friend was right.
Fate, are you listening?
CHAPTER16
CURSE OR CURE
Orchid
Within the hotel lobby, Orchid’s vision landed on Phoenix as if he were the Swarovski-studded centerpiece of a holiday display. He was seated in a leather lounger, a folded newspaper in his hand. Even from afar, she could detect the way his eyes scanned the headlines. The polyglot was probably reading in French.
As she crossed the room, she told herself to be honest. She’d been smitten with this man since they’d first met in the men’s room. These travel days together were a conundrum of pleasure and longing, with a promise of goodbye nearing like a speeding train… that was about to derail.
When his eyes shifted from the newspaper to her face, a smile broke across his face, reminding her of her eleventh Christmas, when ballet shoes and a fine linen sketchpad sat under the tree. With Phoenix, she had been gifted with what she dared not hope for even in her dreams. He was warm, funny, and intelligent. His soul shone deep. And it had to be all business.
With one fluid motion, Phoenix stood, tossed the paper onto the leather chaise, and strode towards her. Each step sparked her imagination, from the movement of his muscular build to picturing his fingers grazing her skin. That was too much, too far. She had to keep herself in the moment, in reality.
“Bonne matin, hungry bird,” he said, standing so close that she caught a whiff of milky coffee.
“Isn’t it early to be cheery?” She aimed for snark, an antidote for her enamored heart.
“Nope. Don’t even think of New York time. It’s ten-thirty and don’t tell me otherwise,” he advised.
“Aye aye, captain. So… where to?”
“Have you eaten?” he checked, thoughtful as always.
