Watching him pour the beverage, the tug toward him that had started deep in my chest, swamped me again.
I forced my attention away from him to stare at my clenched hands on the counter. If I decided on a one-night stand with him, to ease these feelings inside me, it would jeopardize everything I treasured. He was best friends withmytwo best friends’ husbands. And I loved Ila and Ray far too much to want to risk it—
“Charli?”
His voice jarred me out of my churning thoughts to meet his blue, blue stare, and I realized he’d asked me a question. He nodded to the coffee mug on the counter.
I swallowed, my throat dry. “Little milk, no sugar.”
His gaze skimmed my face briefly before he turned to the fridge. Christ. I rubbed my eyes. My troubles had left me in a mess, my walls down. The mug slid in front of me a moment later, along with a grilled sandwich on a plate. “It’s chicken.”
“Thanks,” I murmured, wrapping my fingers around the porcelain, letting its heat warm my cold fingers. “But I’m not hungry.”
“Eat,” he ordered. “The sandwich you had for lunch and the hotdog at the amusement park are not enough when you worked the entire day.” He set a napkin at the side of my plate, then he palmed his mug and sipped his beverage, his stare fixing on me from above the rim, his own meal forgotten.
Uneasy at the way he watched me like he would devour me, my heart thudded hard as if it would burst through my ribs. I hastily picked up the sandwich and bit into the roast chicken with the hint of mayo. Trying for a calmness I didn’t feel, I said, “So, no weeds here, huh?”
Clever save, Charli.Ugh.
He lowered his mug, the corner of his eyes crinkling.
“I have plants.” He nodded to the living room behind me with the terra-cotta pots. “Weeds are pests. They pop up anywhere. Maybe after your week’s up, you could work here?” His teasing expression morphed to heated, darkening his stare. “I want you, Charli, just so you know that up-front.”
I nearly choked on my food, and a coughing spasm broke free. He set his mug down, came around to helpfully thump my back until my hacking eased, and I managed to breathe again.
I dropped the sandwich, grabbed the end of my t-shirt, and wiped my watering eyes, aware War stood too close, with his palm rubbing the length of my spine in a slow caress. His warmth, his scent of woodsy pine wrapped around me, making me too aware of him, especially after what he just revealed. It took every bit of willpower I possessed not to lean into him.
“I’m okay,” I rasped.
Apparently satisfied I wouldn’t die, he calmly strolled back to his coffee on the other side of the counter while I struggled to pull air into my bruised lungs, his words ricocheting in my head.
“Tomorrow, put on more sunscreen. You’re too flushed,” he said casually, like he didn’t just send my mind spinning and my face burning. “I don’t want you getting sunstroke.”
The urge to groan took hold, but if I commented on what he said, then it was open season.Nope, I’m going to pretend it never happened. I don’t care that I hacked loud enough to be heard in the next state or that I was attracted to him, too.
“We’ll leave a little later tomorrow.” He glanced at his cell on the counter. “Or rather, later today.”
Only then did I realize it was probably past midnight. I pushed the plate aside. “Thank you for…” I licked my suddenly dry lips and looked up, knowing he deserved an explanation about what he undoubtedly witnessed outside my home, especially since he hadn’t asked anything. “For being there and bringing me away from what would have turned into a disaster.”
He said nothing, merely sipped his coffee, his palm curved around the mug once more.
“Who is she?” he asked. “The woman on the street.”
Christ, I didn’t want to talk about her, nor could I avoid it. “Camile Dupont.”
His brow creasing, he lowered his mug down. “The socialite?”
Oh, dear God, I rubbed my burning cheeks. If he knew the name… My stomach churned.
“You know her?” I had to push out the words from a throat thick with dread, and watched him for a flicker, for any damn clue that he did.
His frown remained. “She was at one of the parties I attended. How do you know her?”
Of course. “She…” I swallowed, lacing and unlacing my fingers. “She’s my mother.”
He went dead still.
Yeah, I often got that look when people found out the truth. I took after my dad. The only things I inherited from her were her eyes and slender build. My caramel skin came from a fusion of their genes. Then something else struck me with the impact of a hammer to my chest.
