Then I put the truck in gear and went to face Sofia's interrogation. Getting Nadia to admit there was something between us might be the hardest fight of my life.
Good thing I had plenty of experience with those.
THREE
NADIA
I'd barely made it inside my commercial kitchen when my knees went weak.
Bracing myself against the stainless-steel prep table, I took a shuddering breath and tried to get my act together.
Professional Nadia, the one who'd managed food service for five hundred soldiers, could handle this.
Personal Nadia, the one who'd fled Daemon’s bed, was having a complete meltdown.
What the hell had I been thinking?
I knew what I'd been thinking. I'd been thinking about how good he looked in those worn jeans. How his laugh set my body fizzing in a way that was far from professional. For six months, every time he'd asked me out, I'd wanted to say yes but stopped myself.
And last night, with the champagne buzzing in my veins and the success of Lindsey Hunter's launch making me believe in happy endings, I'd let myself have what I wanted.
And now I was paying for it.
My phone buzzed with a text from my delivery driver.
Running 10 mins late. Accident. Not me.
Thank heavens. That gave me ten minutes to pull myself together before I had to be the competent business owner who ran Coogan's Catering and Events with skills I'd learned in the military.
I caught my reflection in the polished chrome of my industrial refrigerator. Hair braided, monogrammed jumpsuit zipped, shoes on. From the outside, I looked as I always did.
Inside, I was a mess.
No one would guess that three hours ago, I'd been in Daemon's bed, doing things that would make my mama's rosary beads catch fire.
Don't think about it.
But that was the problem. I couldn't stop thinking about it.
About how his hands had felt on my skin, rough from construction work but oh so gentle. How he'd kissed me like he'd been waiting months to get it right. How afterward, he'd pulled me against his muscled chest, and I'd fallen asleep to the sound of his heartbeat, more relaxed than I had been in years.
How I'd woken up surrounded by doilies and ceramic cats and realized I'd made a terrible mistake.
Not the sex. The sex had been... well. The sex had been the kind that ruined you for other men. The kind that made you understand why people did stupid things for passion.
The mistake was letting myself want more.
Because I'd seen his face when I tried to leave. Seen something raw and real that had nothing to do with his reputation as Coogan's Break's most charming player. And in that instant I'd wanted to stay. Wanted to curl back into that bed amid the ridiculous decor and see what breakfast with Daemon looked like.
But I couldn't afford wants. Not when my parents were struggling to make mortgage payments and my sister needed help with the kids. Not when my business was the only thing keeping my family afloat.
And it would be a ‘hell no’ when the man in question was famous for loving and leaving half the women in town wanting more. So much more.
Except... those ceramic cats. That hideous rose-covered lamp. The way he'd admitted, almost sheepishly, that he couldn't redecorate because his elderly landlady would notice.
Those weren't the actions of a careless player. That was something else altogether.
Stop it. You don't know him.
