Page 27 of Dreams That Bind Us
"Okay, then." Anna gave them a small, awkward wave. "Goodnight." She turned and scurried for the door, yanking it open and rushing out. She'd barely reached the compound gate before his voice stopped her.
"Anna, wait!" James skipped down the porch and strolled toward her, hands in his pockets. "Are you still available to stop by my house tomorrow?"
Anna winced. Going to his house was probably the last thing she should do with the way she was melting toward him.
Her head nodded of its own volition. "Yeah, yeah. I can do that. But it'll have to be later in the day. Maybe five or six? If it's too late, we could always push it to another day."
A huge smile wreathed his face, his eyes twinkling in the moonlight. "That's great. How about six? I'll make dinner. You'll probably be starving by then."
"Oh, that's not necessary—" she started.
James lifted a hand, his face serious. "Please let me. I'd love to cook for you, especially since you've been backlogged because of me." His voice carried a teasing lilt. "And you'll be even more so once I get my second order in."
Anna huffed an ironic laugh. The man certainly knew how to lay on the charm. He was making it difficult to be so aloof around him.
"Okay. That sounds great. Should I bring anything?"
He shook his head, his eyes gleaming with pleasure. "Just yourself. I look forward to it." He glanced at the cars lining the curb. "Which one is yours?"
Anna pointed at her ancient truck. "That one."
"Wow!" His eyes flashed, making him look like a child on Christmas morning. "Is that an old Power Wagon?"
"It is." Anna perked up at his interest. She loved talking about her truck. "You know classic trucks?"
"Oh, yes," he breathed out as he strode toward the vehicle. "This one's a beauty!" He ran his hand down the edge of the truck bed. "Is she a 1950?"
"Yes, it was my grandfather's truck. He passed when I was five, but he left it for me in his will and my parents stored itin a garage until I could drive." She didn't remember much of her grandfather, but his silver and red truck was a treasured connection she never took for granted.
James hummed as he stroked the hood. "It takes a lot of work to keep a truck like this in mint condition."
"It does, but I love it." She motioned over her shoulder. "There's a mechanic on Stock Island who works on old cars. He helps me out when I need it. The rest is just maintenance." She studied the faded red on the passenger door. "I do need to get an update on her paint job, though. But I'll have to take her all the way to Miami to do that."
"Well, I think she's gorgeous." James walked to the driver's side. "Here let me." With a flourish, he opened the door for her and waited patiently while she scrambled in. He shut the door and stacked his arms on the open window.
It shocked her how relaxed she suddenly felt around him. Not even an hour ago, she was desperate to get away. Now she sat here grinning, enjoying their exchange.
A lock of brown hair dropped over his brow, his green eyes glowing in the night, the angles of his face highlighted by the flickering streetlight. She wanted to brush it back.
"So, I'll see you tomorrow." It wasn't a question.
Anna nodded, trying not to notice how boyishly handsome he looked. It messed with the wiring in her brain. She started the truck with a loud crank and gave him a brief wave as she pulled away.
How the hell will I survive tomorrow night?
Chapter 8
Key West
James stood at the window of his office as he scanned the street. His anxiety had been riding high all day, wondering if Anna would show as promised. The way she’d become animated last night as they talked about her grandfather’s truck had felt like a breakthrough. But he knew she was still incredibly skittish around him.
He had been thrilled when Annette invited him to the book club, knowing Anna would be there. And he'd really pushed his luck most of the night sitting next to her on that couch, touching her every chance he had, getting in her space and making her squirm.
He had found a perverse pleasure in the way she wiggled every time his leg brushed hers or the way her entire body shivered when his fingers trailed along her arm.
The stubborn woman insisted she wasn’t interested in anything more than a professional relationship, but heknewit wasn’t true. If his dreams were any indication, she was as obsessed with him as he was of her.
The way he looked at life now, time was too precious to waste. Why fight their intense attraction when they could spend their time in more pleasurable pursuits together?
