Page 187 of Terms Of Un-Endearment
“Why, Archie Forsythe, aren’t you full of compliments tonight?” I say in a high voice while fanning my face and batting my eyelashes.
Archie laughs.
“When did you start being so nice?” I ask.
His grin deepens and hunger fills his eyes again.
My breath hitches, and I drop my act. I lean forward, tilt my chin, lick my lips; all but beg Archie to kiss me. Every nerve catches fire with the anticipation of finally receiving what he teased me with hours ago.
He’s not grinning anymore. His chest rises and falls in short breaths. The green in his eyes dances between spring sage andevergreen. I want to capture all the variations and color them into my designs with traces of the red-orange flames coursing through my veins.
“Piper,” Archie whispers, then brushes my cheek with the tips of his fingers, tracing them down my neck, to the thin tan line at my collarbone. “I really want to kiss you.”
“Ireallywant you to kiss me,” I say breathlessly.
His mouth twitches as if he might smile, and I close my eyes, waiting.
Then his hands go to my shoulders, and he gently moves me back. I open my eyes. The pained expression on his face dashes all my expectations.
“If we kiss, everything changes…”
I put more distance between us, flushing now from embarrassment instead of expectation. “Isn’t that a good thing?”
Archie shakes his head slowly. “Not when we’ve got big decisions to make.”
“I don’t follow.”
“We can’t let any…” he swallows hard, “attractioninfluence our decision whether we build Bombora together or do our own thing.” He stops long enough to worry at his lip. “And if I’m going back to Aus, it’s really not a good idea to start anything.”
“You don’t have to go back. If I can get Mom to agree to a cash settlement, you’ll have the house back. Malcolm’s gotta be desperate to settle by now. He’ll agree.” I’m grasping at straws.
The truth is, the only person I know who’s desperate is me.
“Piper…” Archie looks at me as though I’m missing something. “Until the divorce is final, you’re still my stepsister.”
He winces at the word, and my face warms to an erupting-volcano temperature. I take another step back.
“I sort of forgot that.”
Archie nods. “I don’t see you that way anymore, but technically…”
“We’re still related.” I shake my hands like I’ve discovered used gum under a desk.
“Not by blood!” Archie is quick to add.
“Right, right, right, right…” I back slowly away. “I’m going upstairs now to work on the ideas I’ve got for a California line.”
“Yep, yep. Good on ya’.” Archie nods. “I’ll just clean up a bit in here.” He circles his hand to indicate the kitchen. “While I think on what you’ve said.”
I look at the mess in the kitchen. I’m tempted to help him, but his eyes warn me not to stay, and I decide he’s capable of cleaning up on his own.
“Okay, then. I’ll see you in the morning.” I dart upstairs, passing Archie’s smirk in the giant “Surf City” print on my way. The image follows me to my room, where I flop onto my bed.
I used to hate that smirk. Now I want to kiss it.
What is wrong with me?
A lot. So, so many things because I’m still wishing I were down in the kitchen with my mouth pressed to Archie’s, nibbling the spot on his bottom lip he has a habit of chewing. I can almost feel his arms around my waist—like they were before dinner—my chest pressed to his, preferably, shirtless one. Our breath still mingling when we break for air.
