“No, Aspen.” He moistened his lips.
My palms got sweaty and I began to shake. “I can’t. We can’t.” I reached for the remote. “Let’s watch one.”
Miles took the remote from me. “I’m a hands-on learner, and writers are supposed to show, not tell.” He leaned in, evaporating the little space that was between us. “Besides I don’t want to plagiarize another person’s work. I need to know what Isabella would want, and who better to show me than you? Think of it as research.” Seductive undertones ran through his words.
My heart was in a panic. Half of it was beating erratically, wanting desperately for me to agree. It was tired of being locked up. The other half beat double-time, begging me not to unearth the key it had worked so hard to bury, especially for a man I couldn’t have.
“Research?” I swallowed hard.
“Nothing more. Nothing less.” He made it sound so easy and sterile.
“I haven’t kissed anyone in years,” I confessed.
His brows hit his hairline. “Are you in earnest?”
“Yes. I’m sure I would be awful at it.”
“I highly doubt that.” He brushed some hair away from my face. “But I don’t want you to do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable.”
“Thank you. You are probably the first man who I’ve ever believed when he said that.”
“Aspen.” He took my hand.
Yep, just as I feared—a fierce connection. One I didn’t want to lose.
“You have to stop thanking me or any man who is treating you with decency. You deserve it and more. Will you please believe that? Get that bastard ex out of your beautiful head.”
I squeezed his hand before reluctantly letting go. “I’m trying.”
He patted my leg. “Try harder.” He grabbed the remote. “Let’s watch your show.”
I lowered his hand before he could press play. “Miles . . . I’ll help you.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
What had I agreed to? Why might have been the better question. But when I gazed into his beautiful eyes, I knew exactly why. He got me. It was as if he could see into my soul, and as broken as it was, in each piece all he saw was me. The whole me. How did he do that?
“Are you sure about this?” he asked.
No, I wasn’t. Don’t get me wrong, I wanted to kiss him like I wanted to take my next breath, but I thought about Addendum A in my employment contract. While it didn’t enumerate romantic acts, I felt like kissing definitely qualified as one. “Does this qualify as a firing offense?”
He let out a long, drawn-out breath. “I would never fire you.”
If I wasn’t mistaken, I swore I heard a hint of regret in there. Did he want to fire me? “Do you think I’m doing a good job?”
He hesitantly reached up and ran the back of his hand down my cheek, leaving a trail of heavenly sparks. “You have been more than I ever hoped for.”
“Um . . .” I stammered. “That right there is a good way to start a kissing scene.”
“You think so?” He inched closer. Our legs were now touching.
“Yes,” I whispered, hardly believing this was happening. “I think what’s missing in your books’ kissing scenes is the build-up.”
“What would you like to see?”
“Well,” I bit my lip. “For Isabella, she needs someone who will take his time. Someone who will seduce her with his words and gentle touches.”
“How should Dexter touch Isabella?”
All over. No. Not going there. Holy mother what was I doing? I let my legs relax and turned more toward him. I took a deep breath and reminded myself this was only research. “I liked the way . . . I mean Isabella would probably enjoy having her cheeks caressed.”
Miles leaned in with a hungry look and rested his warm hand on my cheek. His thumb stroked my blushing cheek. “Like that?” he asked.
I nodded through heart palpitations.
“What next?”
“He would whisper her name like it was a secret that he wanted to keep to himself.”
He drew close enough that I could feel his breath on my face. “Aspen,” he groaned low.
Wow, did he follow directions well. The butterflies in my stomach gave him an A+.
“What is Isabella thinking?” he breathed into my ear.
“She wants him, but she’s afraid.”
“How does Dexter help her?”
“He tells her the truth.”
Miles leaned back with a tentative gaze. He was lost in his thoughts for a moment before he was back, and we were sharing the same breaths. “The truth is that you are like a dream come to life. In every second we share together, you captivate me and scare the bloody hell out of me all at once. I know I will never be the man you deserve.”
Oh. That was beautiful.
His thumb outlined my lips.
I closed my eyes, wanting to better savor his touch.
“Aspen.” His lips brushed my ear, making me shiver. Next, he pressed a gentle kiss to my neck. There he lingered, breathing me in, driving me mad until my hands ran through his thick hair. That ignited something in him. He pulled my legs across his lap, drawing me closer to him. His hand ran down my silky hair. “You are beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me for telling the truth,” he spoke against my lips. There he teased my own, so close but never touching. The anticipation brewed to the point of bubbling over. It was torture waiting and breathing in his sweet breath. Just like I had imagined it would be in my dreams. But now that it was happening in real life, I didn’t want to wake up before I tasted him. I didn’t want to miss out anymore.
My lips captured his. His twitched against mine, surprised. Believe me, no one was more surprised than me. It was the first time in my life I felt comfortable enough to be vulnerable. That’s what Isabella and I really wanted. A man who protected our vulnerability, who never used it to his own advantage.
Miles’s tongue slid across my lips, slow and wonderful as if he wanted to taste every part. His soft, sensual lips tasted like the wine, zesty with a hint of lime. His steady hands inched down my back, beckoning me closer, making me feel wanted. As did the way his tongue danced around my mouth. He wasn’t racing to the finish line or coaxing me to do more. He was content with me. Just me, in the moment. I basked in each minute, and there were many.
But then, Miles abruptly ceased. He leaned away with a terrified look in his eyes.
I bit my lip, worried. “Was it awful?” I knew I was out of practice, but we seemed so in sync. Had I read it all wrong?
“You were perfect. Too perfect.” He pushed my legs off him and stood up. He paced in front of me, running his hand through his hair. The fire cast a foreboding shadow of him. “Bloody hell,” he repeated to himself over and over again.
“Are you all right?” More like was I all right? I wasn’t sure I would ever be the same after that kiss. And his agitation and the way he pushed me away only added to the perplexity of it all.
He stopped and stared at me. “I won’t hurt you.”
“What does that mean?” I responded, confused.
He paused and paused some more until finally he said, “I’m going back to write.” He rushed toward the stairs.
“Miles?”
“Thanks for the research,” he called as he took the stairs two at a time.
I sat back against the couch and let out a heavy breath. That’s right. Research. It was only research for him. But was it? I touched my lips where he had left a lasting imprint. It felt real. Whether it was or not, that bit of research led to discovery, as research often does. My findings were anything but simple. Miles was the key to unlocking my heart.
~*~
Shelby waved her hand in front of my face. “You’re a million miles away today, darlin’.”
I shook myself out of my Miles stupor. I needed to be present in this moment for Chloe, who was trying on the tenth dress in Shelby’s boutique for the daddy-daughter dan
ce in five days. She was so excited she could finally get the exact dress she wanted, brought to her by my new paycheck. The one I was putting in jeopardy because of the feelings I had for my boss. My boss, who was acting like that kiss never happened. It was business as usual for him. He happily took Henry today for some man time while I shopped with Chloe. He even offered to make dinner tonight. A proper English dinner, he’d called it. Meanwhile, I couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss. The kiss to end all kisses. No one had or ever would compare.
“Sorry,” I answered Shelby. “I have a lot on my mind.”
She rubbed my back. “Anything you want to talk about?”
I looked at the dressing room door my daughter was behind and thought it best to keep all that had transpired Friday night to myself. It was probably best to keep it from my friends too. No need for everyone to know what an idiot I was. I honestly thought when Miles told me he found me captivating he was talking to me, but he was talking about Isabella. I’d gotten lost in the moment. Lost in him.
“How are you feeling?” I redirected the conversation.
Shelby was no fool. Her pressed lips said she knew exactly what I was doing, but she was a good enough friend not to call me on it. “I’m feeling fabulous. Our little bun in the oven has been an angel to his momma.”
“His?”
“We don’t know for sure yet if it’s a boy or a girl, but Ryder swears it’s a boy. He’s already planning on coaching peewee football.”
“What’s he going to do if it’s a girl?”
Shelby placed her hand across her chest. “Mylanta, he’s going to be in heaven. That little girl will have her daddy wrapped around her finger. He’s always said he wants a little girl just like me. Isn’t that the sweetest thing?”
It really was. I was happy to know that men like him existed. Sure, it made me jealous. I mean, Shelby left Ryder without saying a word while they were engaged the first time around, and yet he still came chasing after her. As in he started a company and moved it across the country for her.
Me? I have men so desperate to not want to get involved with me they make me sign a contract. In all fairness, I agreed to it and thought it was a good idea. And maybe it was. Maybe all relationships should start that way, with clear-cut boundaries. Each one of mine would start with Aspen, you are not worth the hassle of a meaningful relationship.
I lost it. And I never lost it. Tears started spouting out of my eyes.
Shelby jumped into action and put her arms around me, smashing my head against her voluptuous chest. “Miss Aspen, sugar, what’s wrong? Did I say something?”
It wasn’t her. It was me. All me. I didn’t like feelings. This is why I had buried them. I wanted to go back to naming cockroaches after men and watching them die agonizing deaths. Look what I had been reduced to, bawling into my friend’s breasts.
Poor Chloe came out of the dressing room looking as lovely as could be in a black dress covered in floral embroidered tulle expecting her mom to be oohing and aahing over her, but all she found was her wreck of a mother.
“Mom, did something happen?”
I sat up and wiped away my tears so I could look at my girl. My beautiful, beautiful girl who was looking too grown up. I stood and wrapped her in my arms. “You happened.” I kissed her head. “You are the most wonderful thing on this planet, and you look gorgeous.”
She looked up at me with skeptical eyes. “Why are you crying?”
I tipped her chin up. “Promise me something. Promise me you will always remember your worth.”
Her nose and brows scrunched. “Um, okay.”
“I mean it,” I sniffled. “Don’t settle for anything less than being someone’s priority.”
“Mom, are you feeling all right?”
Shelby’s stare asked the same thing.
Before I could answer, I had some insult added to my injury. At least it was a good life lesson for my daughter. Bobby Jay sounded like he appeared out of thin air. All we heard was, “Marlowe, girl, get out here.”
Shelby, Chloe, and I all looked at each other before we rushed out into the main storefront area to see what was going on. There we found Bobby Jay in the middle of the boutique, dressed in his Sunday finest, a button-up shirt, jeans, and his cowboy boots, standing there like he meant business. All the patrons were staring at him wondering if perhaps they should be dialing 911. Macey darted toward the offices in the back. I assumed that’s where Marlowe was.
Shelby approached Bobby Jay. “My lands, Bobby Jay, what are you doing, disrupting my store?”
Bobby Jay’s eyes stay fixed on the backroom door. “I’m here for my girl, and I’m not leaving until she comes with me.”
Shelby beamed up at the determined man.
“Marlowe, I know you’re here, darlin’. I’ll stand here all day if I have to,” Bobby Jay hollered.
Still no Marlowe.
Bobby Jay upped his game and started singing some out-of-tune country song I’d never heard at the top of his lungs. It had something to do with him crossing his heart and true love. Chloe was giggling so hard next to me it was hard to focus on the words. Several patrons were now recording him with their phones.
Finally, Marlowe came out in a blaze of glory, her ebony hair whipping behind her, wearing a skintight dress that drove her curves like a Maserati and a stone-cold look that said she was dressed to kill.
That didn’t deter Bobby Jay. He wore a grin a mile wide. “It’s about dang time, woman.”
“I don’t want to talk to you,” Marlowe spewed.
“The heck you don’t.” Bobby Jay moved forward.
Marlowe marched closer to him, hands on her hips. “Don’t tell me what I want.”
“Well, I’ll tell you what I want. I want you. Just you.”
Marlowe’s arms dropped, along with her defenses. “No, you want children and a white picket fence.” Her voice shook with emotion.
Bobby Jay stepped near enough to take her reluctant hand. “Baby, I don’t care where we live or if we ever have children, I love you. You’re the one for me.”
Marlowe rolled her gorgeous ice blue eyes at the man. Bobby Jay must have found it endearing. He pulled her to him and wrapped her up in his big burly arms. He whispered something in her ear that made her playfully smack him. Then before we knew it, he picked her up and slung her over his shoulder. “Shelby, Marlowe’s shift is over, we have some making up to do.”
Several women in the store started clapping as he carried her off like a Neanderthal.
I wrapped my arm around Chloe. “Don’t settle for anything less than that.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Did you find a dress, Chloe?” Miles asked while we all sat down to a traditional English roast beef dinner, complete with roasted potatoes and Yorkshire pudding. What Miles meant when he offered to make dinner was that his chef would be preparing the feast before us that smelled divine.
Chloe poked her Yorkshire pudding, trying to figure out why pudding looked like a puffed piece of bread. “I did. It’s so pretty.”
It really was. She ended up picking out a handcrafted lace dress in deep rose.
“Mom even let me get some heels.”
It was a rite of passage for every girl. One I had been hoping to hold off on. Heels meant she wasn’t my little girl anymore.
Miles gave me a knowing grin that I didn’t return. Why did he have to know me well enough to know how hard it was for me to watch Chloe take another step into womanhood? And why did I want to cry on his shoulder about it? He was my boss and I needed to treat him that way. I was going to forget that his kiss had disintegrated the barriers protecting my heart, leaving me feeling emotionally raw. It wasn’t real. I don’t think I was meant for real.
Miles narrowed his eyes when I didn’t return his look in kind. I wanted to, but I focused on Chloe and Henry. More than anything, I needed to keep it professional for their sakes. Chloe needed me to have this job and maybe it was a grand delusion, but I thought Hen
ry needed me too. My sweet Henry, who was purposefully not eating his peas but licking the gravy off his hand until he got every last drop. If I could have gotten away with it, I would have dunked my hands in the gravy bowl and licked them off too. I wanted to know what that chef laced it with. Whatever it was, I was going to get a bottle and do shots with it.
“Miles,” Chloe tucked some hair behind her ear, “do you think you could help me with my research paper about War of the Roses? I read that one of the books you wrote was a modern-day retelling of it.”
Miles looked absolutely delighted.
Me, not so much. We couldn’t afford entangling ourselves further with the man. I couldn’t have more reasons to want to give him my heart. Though A Rose for Every Season was a brilliant book—it was probably my second favorite of his—we didn’t need his insights. “Honey, Miles is very busy right now. I can help you,” I answered before Miles could get a word in.
Miles dropped his fork and knife but recovered them quickly.
Chloe sighed. “Oh, okay. It’s just, I told my teacher I wanted that topic because we were friends with you, and she thought that was really neat because she’s read all your books.”
“Your mum has been misinformed.” Miles gave me a closed-lipped smile. “It’s actually she who will be busy. I need her to go over my manuscript before I continue. While she does that, I would be honored to help you.”
Oh. He. Was. Good. He knew how bad I wanted to get my hands on that manuscript.
Miles’s eyes said, what else do you got?
Chloe clapped her hands together. “Thank you! Thank you! You’re the best.”
Crap. What could I say after that? Not a thing. At least not then.
After dinner and putting Henry to bed, I met Miles in his office while Chloe was setting up our laptop and her notes downstairs. He had printed out a copy of his manuscript because he didn’t want digital copies of it floating around. That and I think he wanted a moment alone to talk.
I waited by his door, leaning against the frame.
He stared at me from his desk.
I tried keeping my eyes on my bare feet. Note to self, get some moisturizer on them stat and paint the toenails.
My Not So Wicked Boss (My Not So Wicked Series Book 3) Page 18
