“Further than I expected to be at this point, but I’m not putting a page or chapter count on the finished product. I’m just writing until the story is told, and then I’ll go back and pay attention to particulars during the revision process.”
She remembered listening to her aunt as a kid. She’d been editing a nonfiction self-help book. She’d been telling Chantel’s mother that she understood the initial writing process but that the author had skipped the revision process.
His fingers were climbing up the inside of her arm.
“We might only have weeks.”
Pulling into the resort lot, Colin parked and turned off the car. “Then I suggest we make the most of them,” he said and leaned over, planting his lips firmly on hers.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
THERE MIGHT HAVE been hesitancy in Chantel’s words, but there was absolutely none in the kiss she gave him. Or in the fire in the tip of her tongue as she used it against his, luring him to travel with her to that compelling place they’d both been but never together.
“I say we skip the beach,” he told her, breaking away long enough to look her in the eyes. “And yes, I’m fully aware that we might only have weeks together.”
He wasn’t going to borrow trouble. If they were meant to be more than burning embers, if the flame didn’t fizzle out, they’d find a way to bridge the distance between New York and California. He was a millionaire. What better way to spend his money than to commute by air from work to home?
“I...” She broke off, confusion and...something else in her gaze.
He kissed her again. Long, tempting kisses. And then, with his lips barely apart from hers, he said, “We’re consenting adults, long past adolescence,” he told her. “Let’s just go where this is taking us for tonight. And worry about the future tomorrow.”
“You want to make love, no strings attached.”
Not really. But for starters... “That’s what I’m proposing.”
He’d do it any way she wanted if he could just get his aching penis out of his pants and feel her body holding it. Binding them together. Making her as much a part of his life as any woman had ever been.
It occurred to him that he was rushing things. Lawyer that he was, he looked for the why. And didn’t like the obvious answer.
If he was rushing things because he didn’t trust himself to be able to trust her long enough to take things slowly, then that wasn’t good. But if he was hurrying because their time was limited and he wanted to make the most of what they had?
“For tonight,” he added. “That’s what I’m proposing for tonight.”
He could feel the struggle going on inside of her and waited. He could convince her to have sex with him. After the way she’d just kissed him, there was no doubt in his mind about that.
But he didn’t want her to regret sleeping with him. Or to allow him into her body if she wasn’t sure she wanted him there.
“Can we just take a walk on the beach?” she asked him. “Maybe bring a glass of wine with us?”
If she’d been any other woman he’d been hoping to get into bed, he might have been disappointed. “Of course. We can stop at the bar for a couple of glasses,” he told her, reaching for the wine he’d purchased that evening.
Watching him, she nodded and slowly got out of the car.
* * *
A WOMAN COULDN’T walk on the beach in high heels. At least not one who’d only been practicing in them for a couple of weeks. Stupid of her to have made the suggestion.
Figuring barefoot was better than naked—which was what she could become if she took him upstairs—Chantel took off her heels and lost a couple of inches. She felt little next to Colin.
And...naked.
Until she’d taken on Johnson, Chantel didn’t leave her house without hiking boots. “All the better to kick them with, my dear,” she used to joke to Jill, purposely misquoting Little Red Riding Hood. A kid shouldn’t have to be afraid of a wolf in a grandma’s clothes.
Glass of wine in one hand and shoes in the other, she stepped forward and cool sand inserted itself between her toes, caressing her feet in a way that was invigorating. Not relaxing.
Colin slid his arm through hers. She could feel heat emanating from him in the cool night air. Making her think of his stomach against hers. Him lying on top of her. The hair on his chest. And...
All things that were awesome and sexy and natural and so not right.
“Where’s Julie tonight?” She gulped her wine. When the glass was empty the walk would be done. The night would be over.
“Home. Where she usually is at night.”
“I’ve been thinking about her a lot.” Good, Chantel—both Chantels. Keep the focus where it needs to be. “I’d like to help her.”