“Our waitstaff wear white dress shirts. I can snag one from the uniform closet. It’s probably not the same thread count as yours, but most people around here aren’t impressed by designer labels. At least the locals aren’t.”
“Including you?”
I nod. “Including me.”
“A shirt would be great. Thanks.”
“Be right back.”
I slip into the hallway and take a long, steadying breath. My heart’s still racing from the collision. Or maybe just from seeing him again. I thought he’d be gone by now. Thought I could put this entire situation behind me and focus on the Christmas festival.
He’s probably just staying through the weekend to spend more time with Joshua. From what I observed last night at dinner, they certainly hit it off. And if Declan’s anything like Joshua, he’d happily rearrange his plans if Joshua asked.
Or even if he didn’t.
Once I’ve found the stain treatment and a clean shirt that looks to be his size, I hurry back to my office. But the instant I cross the threshold, I come to an abrupt stop.
Declan stands shirtless in the middle of the room, turned slightly toward the bookshelf as he studies my photos once more. Warm light spills from the desk lamp, brushing over his tanned skin and illuminating the smattering of tattoos. His backis strong and broad, the muscles shifting subtly as he moves. My gaze trails lower, over the sculpted lines of his torso, the narrow cut of his waist, the dark line of hair leading downward, vanishing beneath the waistband of his pants.
Images of our night together flash before me. Of his body over me. Around me. Inside me. How he drove into me. How he gripped my hips. How he spanked me. The memory is so clear, and before I can stop myself, a soft, traitorous sound escapes my lips.
A moan.
His eyes flick to mine. Dark. Intense. Burning.
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Time stands still as the world around us evaporates, the air between us heavy and charged. We’re not in my office at Holley Ridge. He’s not Joshua’s father. We’re just two strangers who share an inexplicable connection to each other.
But wearein my office. And heisJoshua’s father. Nothing can change that. Not even an inexplicable connection that seems to get stronger and stronger with every second I spend in his presence.
“Here.” I thrust the shirt toward him. “It’s not exactly tailor-made, but it’s better than going shirtless.”
He gives me a knowing look, a silent question within, considering he just caught me ogling him.
And he heard the moan to prove it.
“I mean…” I stammer.
“Thanks,” he interjects, saving me from having to explain myself.
He takes the shirt from me, his fingers grazing mine. The contact sends a jolt through me, my skin warming from his touch. I spin away, desperate for something else to focus on.Anythingelse.
Spying his stained shirt on my chair, I snatch it and disappear into the bathroom, treating the red mark like it’s a medical emergency.
“I thought you were leaving today,” I say to cut through the heavy silence.
“I was.” I make out the rustle of fabric as he slips the fresh shirt on, but I refuse to steal a peek at him. Not until I know he’s fully dressed.
“What happened?”
“This is Joshua’s first Christmas without his mom. I figured it might be good for him to have family around. Not sure I qualify as family just yet, but I’m hoping some time together might help toward that end.”
A warmth fills me over how hard Declan seems to be trying to have a relationship with Joshua. It restores my faith in humanity that not all fathers are deadbeats. Unlike my own.
“How long are you staying?”
“Probably until after the first of the year.”
My breath catches, causing saliva to go down the wrong pipe, and I cough.
