Page 27 of Four Dates and A Forever
“You brave enough to find out?”
Oh, bravery didn’t even factor into the equation. It was more raw, animalistic curiosity that had her turning around and,lordy,her mouth went dry—which was the opposite of what was happening down below.
He was insanely handsome, his hair just-from-the-shower finger-combed, his shirt sticking to his damp skin. And those eyes, those all-seeing eyes, had a hint of boyish mischief.
“You can put that,” she jabbed the spoon at his smile, “away. It doesn’t work on me anymore.”
“So then you admit it once worked on you,” he said with a flicker of amusement and something more concerning.
Interest.
Rhett, of the America’s Sexiest Man Alive variety, was teasing her in a very playful and flirty way.
“You know, my grandma warned me about men whose wardrobe is bigger than mine.”
He shrugged. “Easy fix. You watch as I try on every piece of clothing I own and decide what to get rid of. Then I watch as you try on your closet. I say we start with your underwear drawer.”
Her laugh rang hollow and that’s when his smile faded. He studied her for a long moment and she knew whenheknew she was upset because his expression went fromHow you doin’?toHow are you doing?in the span of a glance. Then there was this protective glimmer that made her heart skip a beat.
“You want to talk about it?” he asked. She held up the ice cream carton. “I see. You’ve already sought counsel.”
Kicking off her heels, she hopped up on the island, her dress riding up her legs a tad. If he noticed, he didn’t make a comment, just turned on that warm, lean-on-me smile he’d given her so many times before. Except this time it felt different.
“A crappy day at the office. You?”
“Crappy day at the office,” he said, his words having edges like he was too tired to mask his emotions. Which was fair since hers were all over the place. A setup for disaster.
The smart thing to do would be to take Ben and Jerry on a nice date to a hot bubble bath. But she wasn’t feeling all that smart. In fact, she stuck the spoon in the ice cream and held it out in invitation.
He lifted a questioning brow like,You sure?and she gave the carton aWhy notwiggle. He padded toward her, leaning a hip against the counter and taking the spoon straight from the carton, then took a bite. She was mesmerized by the way his lips curled around the spoon—the same spoon she’d just had in her mouth. “So, your meeting?”
“Didn’t go as planned. It started out great, then they asked to see the rest of my portfolio, which is lacking, so I picked up Ben and Jerry on the drive home.”
“I saw your presentation and it was stellar,” he assured her, passing back the ice cream.
“You have to say that. I’m in possession of the ice cream.”
“There’s another tub in the freezer.”
“What flavor?” She held up a hand. “Wait, don’t tell me that. My stomach can only handle one carton at a time.”
He nudged her knee with his arm. “I meant what I said. And it isn’t a matter of how many projects you’ve finished, all that matters is the quality. And your designs are unique and fresh, and they’d be idiots to go with someone else.”
“That’s what I said. Well, not to them, but to myself as part of my positive affirmation.” She paused, horrified. “I sound like my mother.” She turned to him. “You’ve met my mom. Did I just sound like my mom?”
His gaze tracked down to her bare legs, and back up, so that when he met her gaze his was heated. “I promise, nothing about you is remotely like your mother.”
“Thank you,” she whispered. Suddenly feeling shy and out of sorts, she took a big bite of ice cream and directed the conversation back to a safe topic. “It wasn’t a no, just a not-sure-you’re-the-girl-for-me kind of response.” After licking the spoon, she set the carton between them on the counter. “What sucks is that you’re right, I can rock that job. A life with a musician, the massive amounts of time I spent in recording studios to be supportive, it all prepared me for this specific project.”
She knew that out of all the designers her experiences were unique to her, a life that few people not only get to live, but also get to look behind the scenes. So while she might be the new interior architect on the block, she was the most qualified.
“Sounds like you’re a perfect match. But sometimes people have perfect right in front of them and somehow miss it.”
She was quiet for a moment, touched and terrified by what he’d said. She could gloss over it, but she wanted to know, no needed to know, what his take on perfect was. “Was Stephanie your perfect?”
“I used to think so, but the further I get from my divorce, the more I realize how ill-suited we were for each other.” He looked her in the eyes. “Even so, it hurts like a bitch that I failed at the one thing my brothers and parents got so right.”
“Just because it didn’t work the first-time around, doesn’t mean it can’t the next time,” she said quietly.
