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The Heartbreaker for Hire

Page 174

by Melanie Shawn

"News to me."

I nudged his knee with mine. He chuckled. Then reached over and took my hand.

Just like that.

No dramatic declaration. No audience. No reason to keep up appearances.

His fingers settled around mine, warm and steady.

I looked down at our joined hands. Then back up at him. He wasn't even looking at me.

He was watching the dance floor, his thumb moving absently across my knuckles. As though holding my hand was the most natural thing in the world. As though he didn't realize he was dismantling my carefully constructed defenses one small, thoughtful gesture at a time.

And that was when I realized something. Something so startling I nearly forgot to breathe. I hadn't thought about my ex. Not once since the reception began.

I hadn't wondered whether he was watching us. Hadn't worried about whether he believed our relationship was real. Hadn't mentally rehearsed some devastatingly clever remark to deliver if he approached me.

Even my company had slipped my mind. The emails waiting in my inbox, Monday's meetings, the projects that needed my attention—none of it seemed particularly urgent while I sat beneath the stars with Damon Lockhart.

I hadn't even thought about my rules. The ones I'd spent years carefully constructing to make sure no man ever had the power to hurt me like that again.

No falling for charm. No trusting pretty words. No mistaking chemistry for compatibility.

And definitely, absolutely, under no circumstances, falling for a man who'd made an entire personality out of avoiding commitment.

Instead, I’d been consumed by Damon. How he'd looked at me. How easy it was to laugh with him. How his family made room for people without asking them to earn their place first. And how nice it felt to be somewhere I didn't have to prove anything.

I was so tired of proving things. Of being capable. Successful. Unshakeable. Worthy.

The woman who always had a plan. The woman who never needed help. The woman who was fine. Always fine.

Even when she wasn't.

"Mickey?"

I looked up. Damon's expression was gentle. "What?"

"You're thinking too hard."

I let out a breath. "Occupational hazard."

"Want to tell me about it?"

I considered giving him a sarcastic answer. Something sharp and clever that would put a comfortable distance between us.

Instead, I answered honestly. "No."

"Okay."

That was it. No pressure. No interrogation. He simply stayed beside me. Holding my hand like he had nowhere else he needed to be.

And maybe that was what finally did it. Or maybe it was the music. Or the lights. Or the champagne. Or the fact that I was too exhausted to keep my guard up.

Whatever it was, I stopped fighting. Just for a moment. I leaned sideways until my shoulder rested against his.

Damon went still. Just for a heartbeat. Then he shifted closer. "Comfortable?"

I closed my eyes. "Don't ruin it."