Heat coiled in my belly. I may spend my days in the boardroom or my office, combating men on a daily basis, but I didn’t really date. Especially not men like him, with that subtle masculine confidence that made me so nervous around him.
My thighs quivered a little as I reached out, taking the containers from him and moving to the microwave. I turned my back on him and hoped he couldn't see the flush in my cheeks. I pressed the buttons with shaky hands, stilling as I felt the soft heat of another human against my back.
He was so close.
My entire body clenched. Was he going to touch me? Hurt me? What would he do? Gently, as if afraid to touch me, his fingertips brushed over the neat bun I’d tucked my hair into at the back of my head. I wasn’t sure I was breathing at this point.
Slowly, his arm reached over me, holding out a single white petal, his fingers cradling it as he showed it to me. I was twisted now, pinned between the heat of his body and the harsh edge of my countertops. “It was”—his voice lowered—“caught in your hair.”
“Oh.” I blushed. “I keep flowers on my desk, I must’ve picked it up.”
His lips quivered, the smallest bit, but as his mouth opened to respond, the microwave beeped loudly. His eyes widened and he immediately cleared his throat and stepped back from me. I snapped my head around, focusing on taking the food out of the microwave without burning the heck out of my fingers or dropping it out of sheer unsettled nerves.
I had enjoyed his warmth. Paired with the soft rumble of his voice, it was quickly making me lightheaded. I swallowed, almost embarrassed at my body’s reaction to him. I was a boss; I did not swoon.
Yet, I missed the way his body had curled around mine, completely encompassing me. I was always in control, alwaysin charge…but around him, it was as if he completely disarmed me, taking away my need to run things. It was a relief and a fascination that I couldn’t leave alone.
Keeping my eyes on the platter, I moved to the table, where Neal now stood, his face back to that stoic, serious look he always wore. After I portioned out our food, I jumped in surprise when Neal reached out and pulled my chair out for me.
“Thank you,” I whispered, dropping into my seat.
Neal followed suit, picking up his utensils and cutting into the chicken with polite enthusiasm. I joined him, happy that the chicken was still delicious.
I was chewing the first bite, moaning a little at the salty sweet red sauce.
“Did you manage to figure out who attacked you that day?”
I coughed a little, and Neal’s lips pressed into a thin line.
I raised my bows after dabbing at the corner of my lips with my napkin. “Wow, you get straight to the point, don’t you?”
Neal shrugged, settling back in the chair/ “You strike me as someone who's worn through her small talk by this point in the day.”
A startled laugh fell from my lips. “You know what? You’re right about that. And no, we know what they were after, but by the time the police got there, they had fled. Church and I decided that it was more important to get you to the hospital than to continue watching them.”
Neal nodded. “I apologize for that.”
“For passing out after a gunshot? Don’t worry, I won’t hold it against you.”
Neal grunted, which I took to be his version of a laugh. “What did your man tell you about me?”
I surveyed him closely. “First off, Church is head of our security but primarily is a driver. Secondly, he’s not my man. Not even close. And he only told me what I needed to know.You were married once, your wife died five years ago, and you basically disappeared from modern civilization. Before that you were running your own construction company. No warrants, no felonies. Just a man who stepped in and did the right thing.”
“I’m not a good man.”
“No offense meant, Mr. Crowe, but I believe that's up to me to decide. After all, you did save me.”
His body seemed to grow larger under my stare. “Be careful, darling, because there’s more to me than meets the eye.”
I met his stare head on, my body tingling. “Oh, I’m counting on it.”
A door crashed open and closed, and Madeline came sulking into the kitchen, Church close behind.
“What happened, baby?” I could see the obvious disappointment in her expression as she crawled onto the counters and picked at her chipped pink polish. Church gave a short nod, his expression obviously sharing disappointment with his charge, and headed to the back door. I knew he was expected home, and neither of us made a big deal about it.
“There weren't enough people, so we had to cancel.”
My heart ached a little for her. She has spent so much of her life on camera that when the option to perform in a local theater group’s spring play had come up, my daughter had jumped on it. I was so proud of her for trying, which meant her disappointment was a vise in my throat. “I’m sorry, Madeline. Maybe the director will be able to find something similar for you to do?”
