Chapter Fifteen
The next day, Jada stared hard at the photo of her and Donovan on her phone screen, committing every pixel to memory. Like the fool she so obviously was.
“Jada.”
She dropped her arm and pressed the phone to her side like she could force the device to meld into the cotton of her dress if she tried hard enough. “Hey.”
Donovan narrowed his eyes. “You okay?”
“Yep.” She pushed her lips up for extra emphasis.
He continued to study her for a second, but then he finally nodded. “All right. Ready to do this?”
“Sure.” Jada followed him outside to his SUV. She opened the car door and pulled herself up to the seat. She stared straight ahead as Donovan opened the driver’s side door and slid behind the wheel. She absolutely did not think about that photo. She absolutely did not think about how fantastic his mouth felt on hers yesterday. Nope. She did think about how he’d looked poleaxed after the incident and how they’d been avoiding each other since last night, only speaking when necessary.
But they couldn’t do that any longer. Not today, anyway.
They’d agreed that it made sense to drive to the news station together for their Good Day, San Diego appearance because they were “dating” and going to the same place, after all. No big deal. It made perfect sense.
Except for the unspoken third party that took up so much room in the vehicle. And her hormones that apparently had no pride and didn’t care that Donovan wasn’t exactly thrilled about being attracted to her.
There was no place to run. At the bakery, at least, she could escape by checking in on a customer or helping Nicholas clean or do other mundane, nonbaking tasks in the kitchen.
He took up so much space. The width of his seat was no match for the width of his shoulders. Her gaze dropped to his hands. He gripped the steering wheel and handled the car expertly. Would he handle her body in the same way, instinctively knowing how to please her? As she stifled a moan, she shifted in the leather bucket seat. What was wrong with her? Where was her pride?
He broke the silence first. “What were you looking at on your phone?”
He had noticed. Crap. She could lie, but lying made no sense because she’d done nothing wrong—well, other than starting this whole farce.
She forced out a totally lighthearted, totally casual laugh. “You remember Rose, the photographer from the book club? She texted me a few photos from the shoot.” She hesitated. “Do you want to see them?”
He took a moment to answer. “Sure.”
Jada could read absolutely nothing in that one syllable. There was no inflection. No hesitation. Just resolve.
At the next red light, she handed the phone to him. He silently scrolled through the images, his face as impassive as ever. He studied the last one, the same one that had captured her attention. It had to have been the last frame. Their mouths were temptingly close. His grip on her waist was tight. Possessive. But it was the look in his eyes, the look on her face that had arrested her. Mutual longing. Desire. Connection. “What do you think?”
His gaze collided with hers. “They’re nice. Rose is a talented photographer.” He handed the phone back to her and pressed his foot to the gas as the light turned green.
Jada gripped the phone and stared straight ahead, hoping she projected calm although she was feeling anything but.
According to the car’s GPS, they were seventeen minutes away from their destination. Seventeen minutes to inhale his scent, underscored by the light yet alluring aftershave he used. Seventeen minutes to watch his thigh muscles stretch and bunch as he navigated the streets of San Diego. She should have insisted on driving. Anything to keep her mind from wandering down a dangerous path.
Not that it mattered, even if she’d thought about the kiss a million times today. She and Donovan were faking. The beginning, the middle, the end.
She was still running Operation: Jada Gets Her Life Together, and starting a relationship or fling or whatever would only act as a distraction. She could not, would not jump into something with him just because her hormones went haywire whenever he was near. Just because he made her feel good about herself meant nothing.
She always fell too fast too soon. She was turning over a new leaf. There was no room in her life for a man. Not right now. Not to mention the fact that he was her boss and played for her grandmother’s team. That was a complication she did not need.
And hell, she hadn’t even gotten to the part where he’d said nothing as she left the supply closet. Or that horrified look on his face.