I’d be touched if I weren’t so upset about everything else.
My instinct when I feel this way is always to hide. To bury myself deep inside. I’m a wombat, after all. So I’m almost entirely silent on our trip home to Atlanta. I know I need to say something as soon as we touch down and make our way through the airport.
We’re getting different rides back home.
This is the end of the trip.
And it might be it for us too.
I’m fighting to hold back tears, so I keep my chin raised as we stand on the curb and look at each other.
“Thank you,” I manage to say. “I really appreciate your coming with me.”
“You’re welcome. It was my pleasure.”
I bite my lower lip, unnerved by the sober way he’s watching me. “Okay.”
“Okay.”
“Do you...?” I trail off, unable to complete the question. I’m not even sure what I was trying to ask.
Something flickers in his expression. “Do I what?”
“Do you want...?” I trail off again, the words completely trapped in my throat.
“Do I want what, Aurora?”
Oh God, I’m cornered now. I have absolutely no idea what to say. So I blurt out, “Did I give you enough money?”
That is not—not—what I wanted to say.
He freezes, something in his eyes chilling the flutters in my heart. “Yes,” he says at last. “You were very generous. Thank you.”
With that, he turns around and walks away.
I’M PRETENDING TO WORK in my office early on Monday morning when Weston finds me.
“Shit, Roar,” he says after a normal greeting. “What the hell happened?”
I blink and force a smile. “Nothing. I’m fine. What are you talking about?”
“Why the hell do you try that with me?” he demands, yanking my side chair an extra foot from my desk before he drops into it. “You look like hell. You think I don’t know you?”
Of course Weston knows me. Better than anyone else. Our parents were decent but distant in our childhood years, and they moved to Florida ten years ago to basically begin a new life. We still call them weekly and visit a few times a year, but for a long time we’ve been the only real family the other has.
“Oh, I don’t know,” I admit now. “It’s all a mess. I messed it up.”
Weston’s bearded face is mostly impatient, but his brown eyes are sympathetic. He looks a lot like me, but quite unjustly the solid frame and wide face look a lot better on him than on me. Women have always liked him. Even the dimple he tries to hide with the full beard has done more for him than it’s ever done for me. “What did you do?”
“I don’t know. I got anxious and uptight, and things are weird between us now.”
He’s frowning as he thinks for a minute. “Okay. I’m not too good at nuances, but can’t you just call him up and fix things?”
“Yes, I could. But what am I supposed to say?”
“Tell him the truth.”
Weston is always like that. Cut through the bullshit (his word, not mine) and get done what you want to get done.
“Right. I’m just supposed to call him up and blurt out that I... that I...”
“That you’re into him. What’s wrong with that?”
“What’s wrong—?” I’m almost sputtering in my outrage. “Are you serious? You do know who I am, right?”
“Yes, I know who you are. That’s why I’m saying this. If you want something, you have to take some real steps. You’ve always been good at that with everything but relationships. If you’re happy on your own, then it doesn’t matter. But it seems like you’re not.”
“I am happy.”
“Okay. But you could be happier. So why not take a real step? Call him up. How bad can it be?”
“It can be terrible!” The words come out as a wail.
“How much worse can it be than right now?” He stands up. “Do what you want, Roar. But guys are clueless a lot of the time. And I guarantee there’s a good chance he has no idea how into him you are. So why not give him a chance?”
He doesn’t wait for an answer before he leaves, closing my office door behind him. I stare at the door, my mind whirling and my heart starting to race.
Maybe Weston is right. Things didn’t fall apart between us until I got scared. My first instinct was to assume Mike had emotionally retreated from me because he didn’t want me and felt awkward about it, but he was actually really sweet after sex. He didn’t pull away until I started trying to protect myself.
And even if he doesn’t want me, what’s the worst that can happen? He could tell me no. It’s not going to feel any worse than I feel right now.
I pick up my phone and find Mike’s number. I breathe in and out slowly, trying to work up the courage and mentally plan out what I can say. I haven’t gotten very far when there’s a knock on my office door.
“Not now, Weston,” I call out, unable to keep the frustration out of my tone. “I’m trying to call, and I don’t need any more pep talks!”
To my astonishment, the door opens. Weston’s voice says, “You can put down your phone.”
I stand up, ready to give Weston a good talking-to for invading my privacy this way (something he’s never done before). But before I can get a word out, a man steps into my office.
Not Weston.
This man is a couple of inches shorter. Less broad across the shoulders. A thick five-o’clock shadow from going too long without shaving. He’s got blue eyes. A thin, intelligent mouth. And he’s wearing a very wrinkled blue shirt under his jacket.
“Mike?” The one word comes out in an embarrassing squeak.
His eyes are sober as he comes closer to my desk. “Yeah. Sorry for just busting in like this, but Weston said he thought it’d be all right. I wanted to talk.”
“You did?”
“Yeah.” Now that he’s close, I can see deep shadows under his eyes. He looks like he hasn’t slept in two nights.
Neither have I.
“O...kay.” My plan is to sit back down, but I kind of collapse into my desk chair instead.
Mike pulls the chair that Weston moved away from the desk closer and sits down in it. “I don’t know if you want to hear from me. I thought you’d made it really clear that you just wanted what happened to be a onetime thing. And if that’s what you want, I’ll respect it. I promise I will. I’ll leave you alone if you tell me to.” The words are coming out in a hoarse rush, which isn’t like him at all. “But I can’t... I can’t just let it go like this. I’ve wanted this for too long, and it seemed like... Maybe I let my hopes run away with me, but it really seemed like we might... we might... work.”
I stare at him, so shocked I can’t move or speak.
He swallows hard. “When you pulled away after we had sex, I told myself to live with it. At least I had one amazing night with you that I can... I can hold on to. But it’s not enough. It’s never going to be enough. I want... more.”
If it were possible for a head to explode from an excess of surprise and excitement and pure joy, mine would be exploding right now. “You want... more?”
He nods. “I want more. I want everything from you, Aurora. I’ve been crazy about you for years now, but you were always so self-contained that I assumed you’d never give me a second look. But this weekend I saw another side of you. A side I... I love. And that’s the woman I want. The whole thing. The real you. So if you think you might want to... to try...”
“Yes!” Being me, my response isn’t entirely socially appropriate. It comes out way too loud, and I punctuate it by throwing myself into his arms without warning.
He manages to hold on to me, laughing as he gives me a tight hug. “Really, baby? You want me too?”
“I’ve never wanted anyone more. I just got scared. Afterward. But I’m crazy about you too.” My voice wobbles slightly, but I don’t even care.
It’s impossible to regret anything when Mike is gazing at m
e with his deep, warm heart in his eyes. “So you want a real relationship with me?” he asks. “A serious one?”
“Yes. As serious as it gets. That’s what I want with you.”
His arms tighten around me again. We hug for a long time before he pulls back far enough to kiss me. And the naked urgency tells me everything I need to know about how he’s feeling right now.
How he feels... about me.
We kiss for a while and might even have gone too far had there not been a knock on my office door.
I drag my mouth away from Mike and call out, “What do you want, Weston?” My voice isn’t exactly friendly.
“You get it sorted?” he asks through the door.
“Yes!” I meet Mike’s eyes, and we both start to laugh.
I do manage to snarl at my brother when he pushes open the door and steps in. He gives me a wry half smile. If I didn’t know him as well as I do, I wouldn’t know how happy he is for me. But he is. I can see that he is.
All he says is, “Good. About time.” He puts a large pile of file folders on my desk. “Now maybe we can get some work done. These are applicants I’ve culled through. We need to find a new Damian.”
“I know we do. I’ll get to them as soon as I can. Now would you get out of here?”
Mike’s arms are still around me. He’s laughing silently, his lean body shaking against mine.
“Oh. Sorry.” Weston smirks as he starts to leave. “Thought this was a place of business.”
He does close the office door on his way out.
THAT EVENING, I’M SO impatient and fluttery that I end up wiping down my kitchen counters three times. They were clean after the first time I wiped them down after fixing a quick dinner, so there’s no reason to clean them again.
I do anyway.
Mike has an evening class to teach, so he’s not coming over until after nine. The time waiting for him after I get home from work feels like forever.
Why would anyone schedule a two-and-a-half-hour class on Monday evenings? And why does Mike have to teach it today of all days?
When I finally hear a knock on my door and open it to reveal Mike with a warm smile in his eyes, I’m so relieved I nearly attack him with a hug.
He laughs and hugs me back, stepping into my apartment and closing the door behind us. “What was that all about?”
“It took you forever!”
“I let the class go ten minutes early. And I drove here as fast as I could. You think I wasn’t excited about getting here too?” His blue eyes are deep and soft as he gazes down on me. “I feel like I’ve been waiting forever.”
“Me too,” I admit. “And part of me is a little afraid that it’s going to go away as soon as I let down my guard.”
“Well, it’s not. At least...” He clears his throat. “At least not as far as I’m concerned.”
“Me either.”
“Good then. Maybe we can both relax a little. This is real. It’s serious. And it’s not going to disappear.”
The flood of joy washes over me, mingled with an underlying anxiety that finally unclenches inside me. “Yeah.”
“Yeah.” He’s grinning now.
“So can we please have sex now? We’ve only spent one night together, and that’s not nearly enough. I want you more than anything.”
I could probably tell him more. I could probably tell him I love him. And if his expression is any indication, he might even say it back.
But we have time for that. We have time for everything.
We’ll spend tonight together. And the night after that. And this weekend, maybe we can finally have our first real date.
Epilogue
SIX MONTHS LATER, I’M sitting at the reception desk in our office suite on a Friday morning when Damian Winters strolls in.
My heart skips a beat. Just one beat. A little one. It’s impossible not to experience at least a small wave of pleasure at the sight of this man. He’s got dark brown hair and striking blue-green eyes and the perfectly chiseled features of a leading man in a blockbuster movie. But he’s more than just aesthetically attractive. He radiates charm and intelligence and a primal sex appeal. It’s really hard not to notice—even for me, who firmly believes Mike is the most sexy, attractive man who has ever walked the earth.
“Hey!” I say in surprise, smiling and standing up from the desk chair as he approaches. “I didn’t know you were going to stop by.”
“I got your message and I was working at the coffee shop across the street, so I figured I’d walk over.” His eyes run up and down my body, lingering on my face. “You look great. And happy.”
“I am happy,” I admit. I haven’t seen Damian in months—not since Mike and I got together.
“I heard about you and Mike. He’s a great guy. And anyone would be lucky to have you. I’m glad for both of you.” His expression is genuine, and his mouth is soft.
The thing about Damian is that he’s utterly convincing. Always, always utterly convincing. Even when he’s putting on an act. Even when he’s in the middle of a bald-faced lie. He’ll convince even the most skeptical that he’s speaking nothing but the truth.
But I believe him right now. He’d have no reason not to mean what he’s saying, and we’ve always had a good relationship. My smile deepens. “Thanks. We both feel really lucky.”
“So you said you wanted to talk?” Niceties are clearly over, and Damian is ready to get down to business.
“Yeah. I did. I’ve got a potential job for you.”
His dark eyebrows arch high. “A job?”
“I know you’re pretty much done with jobs, but we have this opportunity. It’s an amazing opportunity. And I wanted to offer it to you first.”
“I’m halfway through my dissertation. I don’t want to stop now.”
“I know that. You won’t have to. In fact, it might actually help.”
“How could it help?”
“This is a six-month job. You’d get paid for six months. Really good money. All you’d have to do is go to occasional family events on weekends with the client. You could spend the rest of your time working on your dissertation and making a lot of money.”
His lips part slightly. “Six months?”
“Yeah. I couldn’t believe it either. But that’s what she wants.”
“What kind of job is six months long? Am I supposed to be a fake boyfriend or something?”
My mouth quivers slightly. The job really is too good to be true. Our business is going strong, but the commission we’ll be getting still feels like a windfall. “A fake husband. You’ll be a fake husband.”
He makes a choking sound. “Who the hell can afford to pay for a fake husband for six months?”
“The client can. She made a fortune on a tech start-up company, and she needs a fake husband for six months. I think you’d be perfect. You want to hear more?”
Damian does in fact want to hear more.
BY THE TIME HE LEAVES thirty minutes later, Damian has tentatively agreed to the job. I’m not surprised. I understand scaling back on work to focus on finishing his PhD, but this particular job is too perfect for him to refuse.
I’m pleased. He’ll be great for this client. And we’ll all earn some really good money. He’s just left the suite, and I’ve turned back toward the computer when the front door opens again.
“Did you forget someth—” I break off midword when I see that it’s not Damian coming back in. It’s Mike—looking smart and sexy and adorable in jeans and a slightly wrinkled green shirt. “Hey! What are you doing here? I thought I wasn’t going to see you until tonight.”
We have a big date planned for tonight. At least it feels like it’s going to be big. Mike has made special effort toward it, and he seems to be taking it extra seriously. Which has given me all kinds of jitters of excitement.
I’m trying not to get too excited. I don’t want to be disappointed if something special doesn’t happen tonight.
But I am.
The tr
uth is I am excited.
“I know,” he says, coming over to the desk. He leans over to give me a quick kiss on the lips. “I couldn’t wait.”
“Wait for what?”
“Tonight. I’m getting all agitated about it. I can’t wait.”
I frown in confusion, but my heartbeat accelerates, as if one part of me knows what’s about to happen. “You can’t wait for what?”
Mike stares down at me for a moment. Then he stuffs a hand into his pocket and digs something out.
I make a squeaky sound when I see that he’s pulled out a velvet pouch. “Mike!” I gasp.
“I was going to do this tonight, but I’m going crazy waiting. So I’m just going to do it now, if that’s okay.” He slants me an almost sheepish look as he lowers himself down on one knee and pulls out a pretty diamond solitaire on a gold band.
I squeak again and cover my mouth with my hand. I can’t believe this is happening. Right here at the front desk of our office suite. I’m still sitting on the desk chair, but I lean forward slightly and hold my breath.
“I love you, Aurora. Always. Forever. You’re the only one for me. So will you please marry me?” He extends the ring. His eyes are filled with affection and nerves and excitement and something that looks like a hint of dry amusement—as if he can’t believe he’s actually doing this.
“Yes.” At least that’s what I try to say. I open my mouth and make a sound, but it doesn’t really resemble a word.
His brows lower. “What was that?”
I try again, a giggle spilling out instead of a word.
His expression is relaxing. He’s still holding out the ring. “I’m still not entirely clear on your answer. Do you want this thing or not?”
“Yes, I want it!” I manage to burst out. “Give it to me!”
He blinks.
“I mean, I want to marry you. I want you. And also that ring. Please.”
He’s laughing now as much as I am as he slips on the ring. “Glad we got that sorted.”
He pulls me into a hug, and the move causes me to lower onto my knees on the floor with him.
Date for Hire (Companions for Hire, #0.5) Page 4
