The sun was setting and it was a weekday, so there weren’t many people around, but public affection wasn’t her thing either. She grabbed his hand from her thigh and stood up. “Let’s go somewhere less public then.”
On the walk back to the car, he kept quiet, lost in thoughts that made him frown. Remy had swung his hand at first, but after he’d commented, “You have a lot of energy,” she tried to stifle it. His silence and frown was eating away at her confidence.
She had a hard time reading into frowns. It might be a puzzled frown, a thoughtful frown, a disappointed frown, or, worst-case scenario, a “what the hell was I thinking” frown. Owen was complex enough a frown could mean anything. Or may just be the relaxed position of his lips for all she knew. She’d thought frowns were sexy earlier, but that was back before she’d jumped into the deep end with him. Now, they set off an anxious jittery thing in her stomach, making her wish she hadn’t eaten.
“It’s late,” she said. One of the dumbest things ever to drop from her mouth. It drew attention to all sorts of things she didn’t want to think about. Their time was running out. They’d already crossed beyond five p.m. so, technically, she was off the clock. They were officially on a date…but then he left tomorrow to go home to a different state on the other side of the U.S.
“It is late,” he agreed. Never had anyone agreeing with her thrown her into such a panic. Was he saying it was too late? Too late for what? Get a grip, Remy. You were the one who threw out the whole “it’s late” business in the first place. He could probably feel her pulse pounding in their joined hands. She was a mature and sexy woman. She didn’t get thrown like this, not like she was an inexperienced teenager on her first date.
Inhale and exhale, Remy. Breathe. From the diaphragm. There you go. It’s not so sexy if you pass out from hyperventilating.
Owen glanced at her, and his frown tipped up into a smile, but it wasn’t the warm and impetuous smile from before. This was more an acknowledgement that they were two people holding hands, and he’d caught her staring at him, trying to read his expression.
They were probably both wishing they could drop the other’s hand but it was a bigger statement than just maintaining the status quo, so they didn’t. They’d gone from kissing until their clothing nearly caught fire to…this. The disappointment scared her. To feel this devastated by a lack of emotion meant something she wasn’t ready to face. It had only been a matter of hours. Just a kiss or two. She shouldn’t feel shattered and fragile.
“This was supposed to be my day off. Normally, around this time, I’d be sitting on my couch with a bowl of popcorn and in my rattiest clothes.” She wrinkled her nose. He’d probably be horrified if he saw her.
He tipped their joined hands to look at his watch. “The stock market just opened in Asia. I’ve been dabbling in that lately.”
“I can drive you somewhere that has Wi-Fi.”
He shook his head. “They’ll manage well enough without me for one night.” His smile looked a little more real that time. Every time she made him smile it felt like a personal victory. “I’m sorry you had to give up your day off for me.”
“I’m not.” No matter where the rest of the night went, she was enjoying the rush of feelings. Even all the emotional pain of this roller coaster was freeing. For all her impulsivity, her dating life had been declared DOA thanks to all the money she’d been putting toward her student loans the last year. Today’s date to a prison with the most conservative and controlled man she’d ever met might be one of the biggest deviations in her love life. Ever. She felt alive.
When they arrived at the car, she’d considered dragging him into the large, comfortable backseat, but it felt tacky. Actually, the passion they’d shared before wasn’t withstanding the quiet of the walk back. It was one thing when her heart was pounding, and he was looking at her like he had been on the bench. Now, it was awkward.
She didn’t do one-night stands. There was no way she’d go up to his hotel room on the off chance that’s where it led. He was leaving in the morning. Denny hadn’t even been scheduled with him because he was taking a cab to the airport.
This was why you didn’t live in the moment…because the moment after that moment—just completely blew. Eventually, you had to pay the piper.
“It feels strange to still have you drive,” he said, opening her car door. If he’d yanked her into the backseat, it might’ve salvaged the mood. But he didn’t. It might not have even occurred to him.
“Yeah, but I know my way around, and it’s not your car.”
He slid into the other side. “I know. It’s not logical. It just…is.” That phrase could sum up a lot of what had happened on the bench. Only, in that case, it just was. It wasn’t anymore. Damn.
They sat there, not making eye contact, staring at the windshield.
“I can drive you to your hotel,” Remy suggested. If he was interested in more than a one-night stand, he’d suggest otherwise…in theory.
“Okay.”
She started the car and bit down hard on her lips to avoid showing how she really felt. It was a half an hour from the wharf to his hotel. The longest half hour of her life. It was too heavily weighted with expectations and hidden meaning.
When she asked him, “So, where else do you travel?” she was really asking, “Do you come around here often, sailor?” The statement: “You must be really busy if you’re always checking stock markets around the world” was actually: “Do you date a lot?” and “Am I significant at all to you?”
Owen, of course, answered all the surface questions. “Some. I usually make a trip to New York twice a year. Sometimes, a trip to Europe.” He didn’t tend to elaborate either. “I don’t mind being busy.”
She wanted to bang her head against the steering wheel. Denny always told her that she’d understand guys’ intentions better if she didn’t try to couch everything in subtext, but the subtext kept you from getting your heart broken.
“I never look around when I’m being driven,” he said suddenly while doing just that. “The city skyline looks remarkable with the light still fading from the sun.”
She tried to search for the subtext in that. He wasn’t frowning, just looking around curiously. Perhaps there was no subtext. Men were so strange. Then again, he hadn’t asked her any personal questions about her life. Maybe there was subtext. She blinked and stared out at the other cars. Twenty-nine green cars. Thirty.
When they got to the hotel, would he tip her? Denny said he usually did. Denny had been counting on that tip. If Owen tipped her—paid her for their day together, she might actually lose it and start crying, though. On the other hand, there was the rent…and the cavern between Remy and Owen opened up and swallowed her hopes. Just like that.
If he didn’t tip her, they wouldn’t make rent and they might be evicted.
If he did tip her, it’d break her heart.
Maybe that should have been on Owen’s list. 4. Take Remy out to dinner. 5. Make out on bench. 6. Drive to hotel. 7. Break Remy’s heart. It wasn’t the ten items he’d wanted, but it was a list.
No, she was being unfair. She’d been the one to throw out the list, both literally and metaphorically. He’d never once suggested this was more than it was.
“So, do you like it here?” she asked. Subtext: Do you like me enough to like here?
He looked around outside. “It’s not bad.”
That was it. No elaboration. Nothing.
When he opened his mouth after about a minute of silence, she got her hopes up. “I don’t think real estate will ever be what it once was in terms of investment,” he said.
She gripped the steering wheel tighter. Hopefully…there’d been no subtext there.
Thirty-two green cars.
When she pulled into the hotel’s drop-off area, it was her way of saying “I’m not available for that kind of ride.” Her principles kept asserting themselves, even as her emotions and hormones gave her the beating of her life.
&nbs
p; He frowned at the front of the hotel and turned in his seat to face her. “What are you doing tomorrow?”
“I work.” She had bills to pay. A life. And he hadn’t asked a single question about her life the whole ride. And she’d spotted an additional twenty-two green cars. “Besides, aren’t you flying out tomorrow?”
“I can stay another day.”
Another day? Her heart raced ahead, while her head struggled to make sense of it. Damn. It sounded amazing and heartbreaking at the same time. Her nails might leave marks in the leather steering wheel with how tight she was clenching it. One more day together might almost make things worse. No, it definitely would.
She liked him. She really did. They had more sexual attraction between them than she’d felt with any of her ex-boyfriends, but another day wasn’t going to change the fact that he lived in Miami. It would dig her heart in deeper and raise her expectations, only to have it stomped on again.
Still, if he dragged her closer and kissed her now…kissed her like he had on that bench…kissed her like he couldn’t live without her…
She waited. Motionless for once. Breathing out a sigh as the moment passed.
“I have to work,” she said again. It sounded lame, but it was as good an excuse as any for not diving into this heartbreak. “Maybe next time you’re in town…” She didn’t meet his eyes. Hell, she was gutless.
Her brain started building its own list—a list of reasons why she should say good-bye right here. Her heart was the first reason, and the final one was that he was only offering to stay another day. The middle ones on the list didn’t matter as much with those two on there.
When he’d talked about not stopping to make a list of pros and cons because there were no cons, she’d been flattered. She was an all green lights “go” sort of thing. In retrospect, if he didn’t see any cons to a short-term relationship, well…that said it all, didn’t it?
Her list had plenty of cons when it came to risking her heart.
And he was only offering to stay another day.
“Remy?” he asked.
She met his eyes. His beautiful hazel eyes looked puzzled. He was not for her. Owen Savoy was for girls like Mallory from that company. Girls who understood his world. Girls who didn’t have couches that had to be flea-bombed when they first got them.
“Maybe next time you can plan on staying a little longer.” She forced a smile onto her mouth, though it probably looked more like a grimace, and it hurt. It literally hurt to smile with as disappointed she was.
“Can I get your phone number?”
She nodded, reaching into her purse. Grabbing her business card, she scribbled her home and cell numbers on the back. Her pen paused for a moment, and she almost added a heart. No. Too obvious. Even if he was taking her heart with him, he didn’t need to know it.
He took the card and leaned forward to kiss her one last time. It was just a brush of their lips, nothing deep, but it almost killed her resolve. She almost sprung from the car, yelling, “Take me! Take me! Take me!” But she didn’t. Because for the first time, Remy Maison was being cautious and sticking to a list.
He made quick work of gathering his papers and luggage from the backseat. When he got out a moment later, he still looked confused in an adorable way that wanted to break her in half. She waved when he did.
At least he hadn’t tipped her and, damn, she hated being evicted.
Good-bye tip.
Good-bye rent.
Good-bye Owen.
Lists truly and completely sucked.
Chapter Six
“You don’t look so good,” Hannah said when she walked through the back door of the day spa the next morning. “You okay, Remy?”
“Long day that didn’t turn out to be a day off,” she explained.
Remy yanked open her locker with enough force to nearly rip it off its hinges. Her eyes had been red-rimmed when she’d gotten back to the apartment last night, and Denny had wanted to ask a ton of questions, but he’d had to return the sedan. She’d hidden in her room, feigning sleep, when he got back.
This morning, their conversation had been terse.
“What happened? You got back later than expected and you never mentioned a tip.”
“I didn’t sleep with him.”
“I didn’t say you did. He didn’t hurt you, did he?”
“Of course not!” She’d done that all on her own. “It’s fine. I’m fine. I’ve got work.”
She shoved out the door with her brother shouting after her, “We’ll talk about this later!”
Remy took a deep cleansing breath as she often had her clients do. In. Out. Today would be better.
“What’s on the books for today?” she asked Hannah. Hopefully, she’d be busy. Too busy to think about Owen.
“Actually…I need to talk to you about that.” Hannah’s nose wrinkled up, and she tilted her head to the side. “We had a really strange request this morning.”
Remy shoved her purse in her locker, but shifted to look at Hannah. “Strange like…creepy?” She couldn’t handle creepy. Not today. Not after yesterday. She was spun glass perched on the edge of a precipice today.
“I’m not sure.”
“I’m not doing hot stone massages on a guy again,” Remy said. Somehow, the last guy had totally misinterpreted the name of the treatment. It should have clued her in when he’d asked if rock massages were painful.
“Well, no. He scheduled you for the entire day…or he wants to. I told him I’d have to run it by you. I can shift your appointments to my book if you’re on board with this. I think he likes you, but he also might need that long of a massage to actually relax.”
Remy blinked and repeated, “The whole day?” She swallowed all the swear words that wanted to trip off her lips. “Does he have short black hair, a hot, hot body, and look really uptight in a sexy ‘do me’ sort of way?”
Hannah grinned. “He had me estimate how many appointments you could possibly have in a day. And he asked me if you ever skipped lunch to do a massage and insisted on paying for that hour too when I said you had.”
Her heart sunk. So much for last night’s clean break. He wanted one more day. He was going to shatter her heart to smithereens.
“What? Is that not okay?” Hannah asked, watching her face.
“No. It’s okay,” she said with a sigh. It was amazing, and it sucked at the same time. Her heart and hormones couldn’t compete with Owen Savoy’s determination. If he wanted her for one more day, he could have her for one more day. Some fights had no winners.
“He’s really cute,” Hannah said. “And he even insisted on calculating tips for each appointment.”
“He would.”
“You know how Melissa swears you can tell what sort of lover a man will be from how much he tips?” Melissa was always getting in trouble for shooting off her mouth around clients. There was friendly, and then there was Melissa.
“Yeah?” Remy asked. Okay, fine, she wanted to know.
Hannah snorted. “All I’m saying is that you’d better get him out of here before Melissa comes in, and if his tips are any indication…trust me, you would have been too busy to eat lunch.”
“I might get in trouble for this.” It was a last-ditch effort. If Owen wanted her day this badly…if he wanted her this badly…
“You won’t. I swear, you won’t. We’ll cover for you,” Hannah said.
Remy groaned and slammed her locker closed. “Okay. Fine. He is somewhat irresistible.”
They walked through the front desk to see Owen, sitting in their waiting area, flipping through a cooking magazine, engrossed. She inhaled. Warm cotton and pine trees. And he looked good enough to eat. All her sinful fantasies about wooded places and Owen returned, making her skin flush.
Hannah bumped her shoulder with hers, whispering, “Go get him, Remy,” before going to the schedule book to start moving clients from Remy’s schedule.
Remy cleared her throat and tried not to grin when O
wen looked up and his mouth spread in that gorgeous perfect smile.
“C’mon, Mr. Savoy,” she said dryly, gesturing for him to follow her.
In her massage room, she shut the door and turned the lights down to a soft glow. She dimmed the lights for all her clients, especially when they were facing the ceiling, but it felt more like mood-lighting with Owen. She took another one of those cleansing breaths before saying, “Okay, take your shirt off.”
It wasn’t the way she’d pictured saying that for the first time in their relationship, but it was just as breathless as if they’d been in one of her fantasies.
“What?” he asked.
“You’ve paid for a massage, and I’ve thought you needed one since I first saw you. Normally, I’d leave the room and have you strip down, but I don’t want to lose my license for inappropriate behavior.” If he were naked, she’d want to be all kinds of inappropriate—especially when he smelled so good, and she’d been thinking about him all night. Until they settled things between them, she was just going to give him a massage.
That was all.
“Yeah. Just your shirt,” she reinforced. Just his shirt.
Turning away, he unbuttoned his shirt, pulled it off, folded it carefully, and set it on a chair in the corner. She’d pegged he’d be a “folder.” Some of her clients did that, and it had always amused her. With Owen, it was sexy as hell. He’d done it all so slowly and deliberately it was like a free striptease. Of course, everything was sexy as hell with him.
Shaking her head at herself, she spun and pulled down the sheets on the thickly padded table. When she turned around and saw his chest, she almost had him put his shirt back on. The flash of heat nearly staggered her. Holy wow. His pectoral muscles alone were begging to be touched. And those abs! Remy closed her eyes and took a few more deep cleansing breaths. At this rate, she was going to hyperventilate and pass out.
On His List (Entangled Flirts) Page 5
