Page 36 of Caught in the Axe
He shrugged. “Life sucks. Over and over, people prove themselves to be pretty terrible. We have to carve out a place for ourselves in this hyper-competitive world. Make ourplans, work hard, and hope to find a little happiness along the way.”
“Spoken like a true optimist.” I narrowed my eyes at him and cocked my head. “You’ve got a lot to learn, Owen Hebert. Have you ever stopped to think that maybe the world isn’t some Hobbesian dystopia where the strong exploit the weak and we kill ourselves struggling for survival?”
“Hobbesian dystopia?” He snorted. “Have you always been this smart?”
With a huff, I rolled my eyes. He wasn’t getting away with this doom and gloom bullshit with me. From where I sat, this guy had everything going for him. “Yes. But I used to be pretty, so no one bothered to notice, and I didn’t bother trying that hard to convince them.”
Instantly, his broody stare was replaced by a gentler expression. His eyes softened and his lips parted just a fraction. Then he was out of his chair, rounding the table, and pulling me to my feet.
With his hands on my shoulders, he looked into my eyes, his face sincere. “Don’t say that. You’re beautiful. You’ve always been beautiful. Period. And if people don’t notice how smart and empathetic and intuitive you are, then that’s their fucking problem.”
My breath caught as I studied him up close. His tone was harsh, as always, but his words were like a balm. This grumpy man saw straight through to my heart.
He was still clutching my shoulders as he angled in and brought his lips to my ear. When he spoke, they brushed the shell, sending a shiver through me. “And regardless of howpainfully gorgeous you are, your mind, Lila, your mind is magnificent.”
My knees wobbled and my body lit up inside at my proximity to his dominant maleness. I’d received plenty of compliments in my life, but that one had just blown every other one out of the water.
He pulled back slightly, his attention fixated on my lips. Time froze as I regarded him, as the weight of his presence settled on me and the heat of his body enveloped mine. I wanted him to kiss me. No, I needed him to kiss me.
He scanned my face, his blue eyes darkening and full of desire as he fought an internal war.
For a brief moment, it was happening. He gripped me harder and leaned in.
I closed my eyes, desperate for the feel of his lips on mine. My heart took off, practically beating out of my chest.
And just like that, it was over.
He released his hold on me and took a step back. Even in the stifling office building, the loss of his heat was excruciating. Taking his glasses off again—another clear nervous tell—he lowered his focus to the table and shuffled long-forgotten paperwork. The self-control had won out.
I deflated. Because, for a moment, a flash of what being with Owen would be like had hit me. And I was desperate to feel it again.
“I’ve got a couple more things to finish up, then I’m going to head home,” he said, keeping his gaze averted. “I’ve got calls with some environmental consultants tomorrow, so I’ll see you Friday morning. I’ll pick you up and we can head to the meeting in Portland from there.”
“Sure,” I said, still rooted to the spot where he’d almostkissed me. I was being dismissed. My chest ached and my eyes stung, but I swallowed back the hurt. He’d drawn the line. And as much as I wanted to jump over it, I couldn’t.
But when I got home later that night, I began looking at the scenario from a different angle. Maybe tonight hadn’t turned out the way I wanted it to.
But one thing was clear. He wanted me just as much as I wanted him.
I could work with that.
Chapter 12
Lila
“We should have taken my car. It’s much more spacious,” I quipped, tilting my head back and enjoying the feel of sunlight on my face.
Without taking his focus off the road, Owen grumbled something unintelligible. He’d picked me up at six thirty sharp, armed with lattes and gluten-free granola bars. The three-hour drive to Portland from Lovewell was one I’d made many times, but sharing a car with Owen Hebert certainly added an element of anxiety to what otherwise would have been a routine trip.
The awkwardness had started when he jumped out of his car and hustled around the hood to open the door for me, all the while blatantly staring at me.
“You look nice,” he’d said, finally dropping his gaze to his shoes as I climbed into the car.
“Um. Thanks.” I hadn’t known whether to be thrilled by the compliment or embarrassed. I was wearing a black skirtsuit I figured would be suitable for a contract negotiation. However, a while back, after a decade of obsessing about every little thing I ate, I’d given up my pageant diet. So this skirt, the only one I owned, was on the tight side.
Okay, it had fully crossed over to the far boundary of tight.
My hips were being strangled. There was a chance it was giving businesswoman in a porno rather than a diligent professional woman ready for grad school, but I had no other choice. I’d tossed a pair of jeans into my tote for after, so I just had to make it through the meeting without splitting a seam.
