This man is a mystery. He longs for connection, but purposely keeps himself separate from the only place he can get it. Other people.
“Hey. Handsome.”
He glances at me.
“Thank you for bringing me here. It means a lot to me.”
Blue eyes shining, he reaches out and caresses my cheek. He murmurs, “Beautiful Shayna. Thank you for coming. I love having you here.”
Emotion swells in my chest, expanding until it’s hard to breathe. I want to look away from him to hide, but I can’t. The force of his gaze is too powerful.
I don’t know what it is about him, but I’m drawn to him in a way I’ve never been drawn to anyone else. To his mysteries and his moods, his longing and his loneliness, all the parts he keeps hidden from everyone for reasons yet unknown.
I know he’s got secrets. I know he’s not perfect. But I’ve never known anyone I wanted to understand more.
“I could get addicted to the way you’re looking at me right now,” he says, his voice throaty.
“If I ask you something, will you answer honestly?”
“I’ll always be honest with you.”
“When you’re not sidestepping, you mean.”
That earns me a smile. “What’s the question?”
“Can I trust you not to break my heart?”
A look of pain crosses his features. He closes his eyes and exhales a quiet breath. When he opens his eyes again, they’re filled with anguish.
“Why do you think I keep saying we can’t have a relationship?”
That shouldn’t hurt as much as it does. I almost wish he’d lied to me. But I guess that’s what I get for asking the question.
I look away, out into the night. “Okay,” I whisper around the lump in my throat. “Fair enough.”
“Shay—”
“No, let’s not ruin this. We have tonight. And we have Shanghai lobster. And if you’re very, very good, I’ll let you convince me that we should go skinny dipping in that enormous pool.”
He gathers me into his arms and hugs me, pressing his face against my neck. We stand like that for a while, holding each other and breathing, until I feel tears well at the corners of my eyes and pull away.
He’s already breaking my heart, and we haven’t even eaten dinner yet.
Taking my hand, he leads me through a set of open French doors onto the terrace. The air is warm and still, perfumed by the cascading honeysuckle vines climbing the balustrade. We sit at a small round table draped in white linen and set with fine china and crystal. White tapers in silver holders add a romantic glow to the setting.
Overwhelmed, I take in the view.
“You’re quiet,” observes Cole, spreading a linen napkin over his lap.
“I’m processing.”
He nods, accepting that answer without pressuring me for more. Then he pulls his cell from his jacket pocket and dials a number. To whoever answers on the other line, he says, “We’re ready.”
He disconnects, shuts his phone off, and slides it back into his pocket. Then he takes my panties from another inside pocket and holds them to his nose. Looking at me, he inhales deeply.
Embarrassed, I shake my head and look away.
“Don’t be shy.”
When I glance back at him, he’s grinning.
“You’re strange.”
“You told me that the night we met. Do you remember?”
“Yes, and I was right. Put those away, please.”
He folds them carefully and places them in the outer breast pocket of his jacket, arranging them until the panties look like a pocket square.
“I don’t want to know how many times you’ve done that before, but you’re entirely too good at it. Please don’t tell me you’ll wear them into a meeting.”
“Oh, these are coming with me wherever I go.”
He laughs at my expression. I love his laugh, open and unguarded, loud and happy. The sound thrills me. I sit and stare at him, mesmerized.
Eyes glowing, he leans across the table and takes my hand. “There’s that look again.”
“What look?”
“The one I’m addicted to.”
“The one you said you could get addicted to, you mean.”
“Apparently, one hit was all I needed.”
Blushing, I look down at the table. “You’re just laying it on thick because I said that thing about skinny dipping.”
“You know I’m not.”
I glance up. Our gazes lock. My nervous system slams into high alert and starts lighting my body parts on fire. How does he do this to me?