Page 25 of The Kissing Part
“Sounds like someone’s been to therapy.”
She elbows me. “Don’t knock it ’til you’ve tried it.”
“Nah, it’s good. I know it was hard for you growing up despite all the glamour of being a child star.”
“I don’t regret working as a kid. I think I would’ve gone insane without that outlet, and now I’m happy to have the career I have.”
We’re quiet as we eat, our hands occasionally brushing as we reach for popcorn at the same time. I don’t hate it. Okay, okay, I like it. Every touch just makes me want more. What if I acted on impulse? Kissed her, pulled her under me, slid my hand—
“I’m sorry about the way things ended between us.”
Now that’s a splash of cold water. Lust killed.Thanks, I needed that.
I concentrate on refilling my champagne, watching the bubbles rise. “Don’t worry about it. We were kids.”
“I didn’t know how to handle all I was feeling, and I didn’t know about the future for me, for you, for my career. I just couldn’t make any promises I wasn’t sure I could keep.”
I want to say that my marriage proposal didn’t count, but that would be a lie. I loved her deeply and wanted to marry her. If we’d stayed in touch, visiting regularly, I think we would’ve been good together. Now it’s different. We’re different.
I keep it light. “It’s okay. I forgive you for giving up the best you’ve ever had.”
“Youarethe best I’ve ever had,” she says so sincerely I’m shocked into silence. Me at seventeen was the best she ever had? She’s been with the elite, with all the looks and all the money.
I go back to eating popcorn and M&M’s. No more hand touching.
“I did it again,” she says, rubbing her forehead. “I always share too much too soon.”
It occurs to me she’s acting, trying to reel me in with compliments and fake angst about oversharing. Well, I won’t be fooled.
“Save it,” I say.
“Save what?”
“You’re acting. I’m not falling for that shit.”
Her jaw drops. “What are you talking about?”
“Come on. Best you ever had when I was seventeen compared to—forget it. Past is past. It is what it is. And now we’re here. You’re paying me to protect you, and that lasts exactly one more week.”
She huffs. “You’re an idiot.”
“I’m the idiot who’s going to make sure you’re safe.”
“Yeah, for one more week,” she says sourly.
“I’ll find you a bodyguard. Your assistant is being way too slow about that. She should’ve had a list by now.”
“She does have a list.”
“Why haven’t I seen it?”
“Because you didn’t need to see it.”
“Course I did. I need to make sure they’re qualified.”
She goes back to picking M&M’s out of the popcorn. “That’s what she’s doing. She’s calling references and interviewing them.”
I lean toward her, living dangerously. Her breath hitches. That telltale sign of desire shouldn’t thrill me as much as it does. “And?”
