Page 28 of Sweet Passions at Bayside
“And my gardening magazines?”
“I wanted to see what makes you tick.”
He felt himself grinning again. “And the magazines of skimpy yoga outfits?” Oh yeah, he’d flipped through them, imagining taking each article of clothingoffEmery.
“I wanted to see the summer styles.”
“On mybed?” He brushed his lips over her cheek and said, “And the lip balm on my pillow?”
She inhaled a ragged breath, and he drew back just far enough to look into her lust-filled eyes. “Were you thinking of me when you were lying on my bed, Emery? How about when you put that balm on your lips?”
“Dean, I…” She closed her mouth and swallowed hard.
“Did you leave it there just to torture me? To make me fantasize about how incredible your lips would taste with it on?”
“I…” Her eyes narrowed, and all that heat turned to challenge. “I told you I don’t think about what I do. I just do it.”
She pushed past him, landing on her feet, but the way her cheeks flushed and her breathing quickened, he knew he’d struck a nerve. And he knew her claim about not thinking about what she did wasn’t exactly true—otherwise she would have thrown caution to the wind when he’d told her how he felt. That told him more than a verbal confession ever could.
“Are we going to go inside, or what?” She stalked toward the entrance.
He chuckled, catching up to her. “Denial looks cute on you.”
“Don’t make this weird,” she said without looking at him.
“Don’t make this harder than it has to be.” He leaned down as they approached the front door and lowered his voice. “And get that hungry look off your face. The residents here will call you on it in a hot second.”
She laughed. “Were you always this cocky, or did I just not notice before?”
“Trust me, doll. You noticedeverythingabout me.” He pulled open the door and swatted her butt. “And one day you’ll stop standing in your own way and admit it.”
STANDING IN MY own way. Give me a break.Emery stewed over Dean’s accusation as he spoke to the cute twentysomething receptionist who was literally twirling her shoulder-length curly dark hair around her finger and flirting unabashedly. Dean leaned his bulky forearms on the counter, looking hot as sin in his shorts and tight T-shirt, allMr. Casual Sweet-Talker.
An unfamiliar feeling clawed at Emery, making her stomach squirrely. Dean rose to his full height and winked at Emery as the receptionist picked up the phone and spoke into it.
Winking at me while you’re flirting with her? I don’t think so!
Her words from earlier came rushing back.I don’t realize I’m doing it half the time. It’s who I am.The truth hit her like a bullet. Was this the way guys felt when she was just being who she was and they thought she was flirting? This was an awful feeling.
While she tried to crawl out from under the uncomfortable truth, a petite blonde with a cute pixie haircut came through a door behind the reception desk.
“Dean, didn’t I just see you three days ago?” The blonde’s eyes met Dean’s and she tilted her head, looking at him with a playful smile, the way women who had intimate knowledge of a man did.
It was a look Emery knew well. It said,Hey there, big boy. What kind of trouble are you getting into now, and can I come?
“Did you miss me already?” Pixie Cut asked.
Three days ago?Emery suddenly recognized the emotion coursing through her for what it was.Jealousy.
She wasn’t proud of the ugly emotion. In fact, she was shocked by it, but not too stunned to flash her best he’s-all-mine smile as she stepped beside Dean and purposely brushed her arm against his. She knew it was wrong to claim him when she’d just given him a diatribe about how she couldn’t go out with him on a real date, but she was powerless against the viscous monster gnawing at her gut.
“I always miss you, Chloe,” Dean said.
You always miss her? Then what on earth are you doing claiming to want me?Emery felt like she was swimming in a sea of quicksand. But quicksand would probably be easier to handle than the jealousy that was winding around her insides, stringing her muscles so tight she thought they might burst.
Dean put a hand on Emery’s lower back, dragging her to the surface again.
“But that’s not why I’m here,” he said. “Chloe Mallery, this is Emery Andrews, the yoga instructor I told you about.”
