‘Nope.’ I place both hands on his chest as he reaches me. As tempting as he always is—dressed so properly for the office in navy pants today, white shirt open at the collar and rolled at the sleeves—I’m not in the mood. I’m inamood but notthemood. ‘I’m due at the airport in an hour.’
‘A quickie?’ he suggests, all charm and persuasion and divine smelling cologne.
‘No. That time would be better used to come up with a backstory. A meet-cute scenario.’
‘A meet what?’
‘Like they have in the movies. The scenario that brings two potential lovers to cross paths. They meet, it’s cute, and it develops into a romance.’
‘So that would be what, for us?’ In an alarmingly tender gesture, he lifts my hands from his chest, bringing them to his mouth where he places a kiss against the backs of both of my hands.
‘For us? Well, I fell over your foot. That could be cute, I suppose.’
‘Not with the way you were glaring at me,’ he replies, one brow raised.
‘Shush. But that could totally work. I fell at your feet, and you just fell for me.’ The man looks seriously freaked out that I roll my eyes so hard I get a flash of the wallpaper decorating the inside of my cranium. ‘Pretend, Beckett, just for pretend.’ ‘But what else?’
‘What do you mean? Isn’t that enough?’
‘How did we come to be in New York at the same time?’
‘Does it really matter?’
‘The devil is in the details. Didn’t your uncle Satan teach you anything? We met, and I fell over your foot into abject dislike? That was the story before I got on the flight.’ Minus all the other things we’re not talking about. ‘Because as far as Miranda and Heather are concerned, I think you’re a pr— unpleasant individual. Oh, and I also told my friend Reggie what happened in the car.’
Beckett chuckles. Trust that little nugget of information to have entertained him.
‘Which reminds me,’ I add, ‘I really need to give her a call. Thanks to my social media guru.’ Snarky to the max.
‘That must’ve been an interesting conversation.’
‘Not as interesting as the next one is going to be, so let’s work on this.’ I pull my hands from his.
‘You must admit, it is a little funny.’ He surprises me when he puts his hands on my shoulders. ‘Almost farcical,’ he says with a spin as he turns me to face the other way. As he pushes my ponytail over my shoulder, I try not to shiver as a sensory memory shimmers across my skin. ‘You’re very tense,’ he says, beginning to knead my shoulders.
‘I wonder why that is?’ I’m surprised the words are whole, given they’re delivered though gritted teeth.
‘What did your friend say? Would it help with the explanation?’
‘She said you were probably kinky.’
‘Are she and I acquainted?’ I pull my elbow back and nudge him. ‘Kidding.’
‘She said maybe you like withholding the D.’
‘The—ah. Got it. Under the right circumstances,’ he replies airily, ‘it can be fun. And you were wrong, you know. Some men do enjoy the chase.’
‘What’s that—Ow!’ I turn my head to glare at him. ‘That hurt.’
‘Because you’re all knotted. You should book a massage while we’re here.’
‘Let me get this over with Gran first,’ I grumble, my shoulders relaxing almost involuntarily. ‘Oh, that’s better. Yeah, that’s good.’ Beckett’s hands work their way down my spine, my bones almost liquifying.
‘I’ve got it!’ He turns me quite abruptly again. ‘You fell, you hated me, then I chased you and tried to help you with your company. Then we met at the airport, and I was determined to win you over, so I made sure we sat together on the flight. Eight hours in close confines—you couldn’t fail to be bowled over.’
‘From abject dislike to hey, let’s get hitched?’
‘Unless you’ve got a better idea.’ Clearly, he’s done with the charm.
