she had to. “About that handicap sticker,” she said. “It’s old. I don’t use it.”
He was quiet a moment while he sat. “As one who’s had his own sticker, I get the whole love/hate thing over it.”
She looked at him in surprise. He seemed perfectly healthy. His gaze met hers, dark, still warm but now filled with a whole host of memories, some painful, and in that moment, something happened. Something not physical, and not quite describable.
She didn’t understand. He looked like a professor, sitting there with those glasses, the khaki trousers, the white button down shirt. A sexy professor, she’d give him that. He was studying her in that disconcerting way he had, seeing far more than she meant him to. “You’re good now?”
“Yes.”
She nodded. “Well, you’re going to want to leave those pretty-boy clothes at home.”
He looked down at himself, then arched a brow. “Pretty-boy clothes?”
She just arched a brow back.
His eyes lit with good humor. “Pretty-boy clothes. And here I thought I was so smooth. Go figure.”
Damn, he made her want to laugh, too. “Well, they’re fine, if you want to ruin your expensive things…”
“It’s just money.”
“Spoken by a man who’s probably never had to do without.”
“Ah, there you go again. Judging a book by its cover.”
She opened her mouth, then slowly shut it. “You know, I think I’m going to bed before I put my foot in my mouth again.”
“Wait,” he said when she stood up.
“I’m sorry. I’m…not really fit for company.”
His gaze ran down the length of her, then settled on her face. “You look plenty fit to me.”
“Yeah.” If he only knew. “I should—”
“One drink. If I annoy you before you finish it, you can leave.” He slid a hand on her arm. “What do you say?”
His touch electrified, and she stared down at his fingers. “Um…” Wow.
“Now that’s interesting,” he murmured.
He was close enough that she could feel his body heat seep into her bones, and though he was touching her nowhere other than his hand on her arm, she felt surrounded by him.
Not to mention his scent—that intangible, male scent that was…yum.
What was happening here?
Slowly he lifted his other hand, settled it on her arm, too, and gently pulled her a little closer. His expression mirrored some of her own discomfort. “This isn’t the light and fluffy sort of attraction I’d told myself it was.”
“It’s nothing.”
A ghost of a smile curved his lips. “You don’t feel it.” He shook his head, laughed at himself. “Right. I should have figured that part.”
Within sharing-air distance as they were, he was close enough that she could see gold specks dancing in those hazel eyes, filled with disappointment now.
Damn. She’d have thought she’d feel this attraction for Keith, had meant to feel this for Keith, but the truth was, she hadn’t wanted to stare into Keith’s eyes, and she sure as hell hadn’t wanted to press her face to Keith’s throat and inhale deeply. Yeah, time to go. “Good night,” she said. “I’ll see you at the trailhead. In jeans, I hope.”
No smile tugged at his mouth this time. “’Night,” he said, and dropped his hands from her.
With a nod, she turned away and headed for the stairs, and then realized something. She’d come here to find herself, to find some semblance of the person she’d been.
But that person she’d once been would have never shied from anything. At that thought, she stopped. “Jared.”
“Yeah?”
“I…”
“You…”
“Feel it.” She shook her head. “I just don’t want to.”
“Huh. Have to admit, I’m not sorry.” His gaze lit with something that looked like both heat and laughter as he came toward her.
She stood her ground, her nose quivering because God, he smelled good, he smelled heavenly, and she was sniffing at him. “I really do have to go. I have to go to my room, I need to look over some maps and—” And think about you…
“I’m sure you’ve planned out this trip to the nth degree.” He snagged her hand. “You deserve a night to relax before four days of work.”
Relax? She’d been doing nothing but lying around healing for months, and if she hadn’t managed to relax by now, it wasn’t going to happen. In fact, if she stayed down here with him, with his hand downloading little electric currents of lust into hers, she knew she’d start sniffing him again, and then…who knew. “I really…” She trailed off when he waited patiently. “I really have to go.”
“All work and no play.” He laughed softly when she frowned. “I wouldn’t have guessed that about you. Come on, Lily. What’s your poison?”
“Excuse me?”
“What would you like to drink?”
“You don’t have to serve me.”
“How about, I want to?” He was close again, and she looked away because, oh boy, just looking at him smile was like looking at an unopened bag of barbecue potato chips—both irresistible and extremely bad for her.
Very bad.
“Wine?” he asked, looking at ease, looking confident, looking so freaking sexy it took her breath. “Beer? Soda? Painkiller?”
“Um, what?”
“The limp. You must be in some pain.”
“Oh. That.” The reminder slammed home all of her fears about this trip. “It’s nothing. A beer, I’ll take a beer.” She took a step back, came up against the wall with a crash. “I’ll take it to go.”
“Lily—”
“No.” She looked into his disconcertingly gorgeous eyes, and took a big step back—thankfully missing the wall this time—and an even bigger mental step. “Really. I’m sorry, I need to…” Get my bearings. “Go.”
She accepted the beer he bought her, thanked him, and ran upstairs, where she put herself to bed.
Of
