I allow my lungs the barest recoil of relief that she hasn’t shut me down. Yet.
‘Perhaps a walk, then, or my place is just around the corner.’
She locks her car with a click of the remote. ‘Okay—let’s walk.’ She sets off and, just like every time she’s within arm’s length, I want to reach for the hand closest, which swings by her side. Instead I shove my own hand in my pocket and curse my stupidity anew. She’s smart, caring, funny and kind. I talked about her as if she meant nothing to me, insulting both of us, because that’s not true, despite my divorcee’s caution.
‘I overheard you, Drake and Kit talking,’ she says, aiming straight for the heart of the matter in her no-bullshit way.
I scrub a hand through my hair as my fear is confirmed. ‘I guessed as much and I’m sorry. Sorry for being indiscreet and talking about you at all.’
She nods, but I’m still wriggling on the hook, the set of her full mouth tells me. ‘I didn’t want to eavesdrop, but when I heard my name I kind of wanted to know what you’d say. I accept overheard conversations can be misconstrued,’ she says, ‘so let me make my position crystal-clear.’
My respect for her, for her professionalism and maturity, ratchets up to new levels when I thought I’d reached the ceiling.
‘I know you don’t owe me anything—that all we’ve shared is a couple of orgasms—’
To hear the evening we’d spent together reduced to mere biology rather than the astounding night of connection it truly was, at least for me, stings like all-over nettle rash. But Blair isn’t finished.
‘I understand you may have trust issues—’ A momentary flash of pain blazes through her expressive eyes, gone as quickly as it arrived.
I touch her arm, tug her to a standstill. ‘It’s not personal. I do have trust issues. A hangover of my divorce. In fact, I’m a suspicious old git, I’m afraid.’
She nods, not arguing and refusing to take the bait and tease me again about my age, and she continues as if I haven’t spoken. ‘But I’m a hard-working professional. I take my work very seriously. I’d never do anything to take advantage of you, your father or your hotel. I, perhaps naively, assumed your initial reticence for the renovations was down to it being sprung on you. And I thought we’d struck a deal that we wouldn’t allow the sex to affect the work...’
She leaves the last dangling like a question, although it’s very much a statement and it’s as if our ages were reversed and I’m a schoolboy again, standing in front of the head for flinging insults at some bully who dared to pick on Kit or Drake. I want to rewind the past few hours, to walk into the lobby of the Faulkner again and show every scrap of the delight I felt at finding her there. To invite her to join us for lunch myself, not wait for Graham to do the honours. To whisk her out of there within minutes of the meal being served, take her home and lose myself in her again, because those impulses were strong, and now I can’t think of a single reason I fought against them.
Blair mistakes my silence for apathy.
‘But perhaps the sex was a mistake. Perhaps it’s time to call this a day. We had a good time...’ She swings her bag up onto her shoulder and crosses her arms over her chest.
The urge to hold her, to feel her body against mine, grows to impossible levels. I know how good it will feel. I know that nothing else will matter while she’s there and all my worries will lessen. I know I’d do anything right now to ensure it happens.
‘And if I don’t want to call it quits,’ I say, stepping a fraction closer, although not as close as I’d like, which is naked and inside her, making her eyes soften with pleasure.
That seems to startle her. The pulse in her neck flutters and the answering thud of my heart batters my ribs. ‘Look,’ I say, my voice strangled, ‘you’ve been honest, so allow me to return the favour. I was thrown by your appointment to renovate the Faulkner, which Graham arranged without my knowledge. I run a tight ship, I always have, but now, with things...unravelling, with my always capable, energetic father behaving so erratically...you can understand how concerning—’
‘Of course I can—’
I plough on. ‘And despite all of that going on, I was blindsided by seeing you again. You’ve changed, or I’ve opened my eyes. I was reeling from my attraction to you and you were so capable, so vehement about your contract, so...driven and in control, and while I admire that trait in business—’ I swallow, emotion thick in my throat ‘—if I’m brutally honest, I’m a little distracted by Graham’s diagnosis. Bottom line, I was underprepared for you.’ I wave my hand in her direction, encompassing the entire, spectacular Blair package. ‘All of you.’
My words settle between us, charging the warm summer air with kinetic energy, until I’m certain something will need to break to snap the tension. But I’ve never waited for something to come to me in my entire life, always making things happen, striving until I have what I want. I’m not about to start now when what I want is as tempting as her. I reach for her hand and she doesn’t pull away, her fingers flexing against mine a soothing balm in more ways than one. But it’s not enough. I want more of Blair Cameron for my own selfish reasons, reasons I refuse to examine too closely. Fuck, I hope she still wants me for hers.
Taking a leap, I tug her to my chest, wrapping my arms around her slim shoulders, dwarfing her physically even as she seems to envelop me—the scent of her hair carried in the hazy air, the crush of her soft breasts against my hard chest, her small hands on my waist holding me together where the shudders of something that feels suspiciously like fear seep from my every pore. I hold her until my own heart rate slows, not giving a fuck that she can probably feel it beating against hers, that she’ll know how much I care, how sorry I am and how exposed it makes me. The feeling is so rusty, I can’t name it, or choose not to.
I kiss the top of her head, and pull back a fraction so she can see the sincerity in my expression.
‘I don’t doubt you professionally and neither do Kit and Drake. They loved your plans for the renovations. Brothers just like to talk shit to wind each other up—it’s a trait we’ve carried from childhood, I’m afraid.’
She nods, but her eyes are still haunted, her voice when she speaks flatter than I’ve ever heard it. ‘They don’t approve of us fooling around.’
I wince. I’d seen the way Kit reacted to my obvious closeness to Blair, but then, like now, I considered it irrelevant. ‘I don’t give a fuck. Do you?’ The ugly swirls of fear return, my stomach twisting. If she says yes, that no-strings sex was fun, but family judgement is a distraction she doesn’t need, that I’m too old for her after all, that we don’t have enough in common or that’s it’s just not worth it... I grip her tighter. The reaction makes no sense—she’s right, all we’ve shared is a handful of orgasms, but already this feels like more, feels as if we’re heading into dangerous territory. Trouble is, I don’t want to retreat. I’m selfish. I want her for as long as it lasts.
When she shakes her head, her chin lifted in defiance, I practically growl and press my mouth hard to hers as euphoria pumps around my body. Without interference or my own stupidity, our connection is simple—A plus B equals... What? A good time? If I’m honest, we’ve already surpassed simple physical gratification. She makes me feel invincible, makes me feel the optimism I associate with the man I was in my early twenties.
‘Good.
