I fly back to New York on Tuesday morning. That’s non-negotiable. I never like to be away from Brinkley for more than a week—golden retrievers are loyal and Brinkley especially so. Besides, Theo takes care of him grudgingly and more than a week would be pushing our sibling relationship.
I have nothing to offer Grace. I can’t possibly make her any kind of promise, nor do I want to. If my parents’ explosive, disastrous union, and their subsequent failed marriages, didn’t teach me how flawed the concept of monogamy and commitment is, then my own freshly sealed divorce does that perfectly.
After the example of my father, there’s no way I’m making any promises to any woman—ever. I am not him and I will not make a habit of hurting people like he did.
This isn’t about wanting anything from Grace; I don’t. If I’d never seen her again after last night, I wouldn’t have minded. Except that we’re going to be spending the next three days together, in each other’s pockets and, given that our chemistry is so...satisfying...wouldn’t it be stupid not to explore that again? And again, and again, and again?
Beneath the table, my knees brush hers and she jolts away from me, her cheeks heating up. Her skin is like crushed pearls, pale yet luminescent, except beneath her wide blue eyes, which are marked with a silver grey.
She’s tired.
Because of me?
My pride likes that. But then what about her ex’s wedding? Is it possible she left me and cried into her pillow all night? All the more reason to bring her back to bed. I liked helping her forget. I liked it a lot. And she’s not the only one who wants to use sex to put their past in the shadows for a time.
I watch as she lifts out more financials, opening them on the relevant pages. She begins to run through them, her fingers moving down the columns as she speaks. I focus on what she’s saying with almost all of my mind, the part of me that’s capable of rational thought taking note of how all over this she is. The detailed breakdown is complex, but she’s explaining it to me calmly, patiently and diligently, as though she wrote the damned reports. I listen, impressed.
But a small part of me is wondering how I can proposition my real estate agent. How I can tell her I want more of what we shared last night.
She lifts a hand to her hair, pushing a pin back in more tightly. She’s wearing it in a bun today and I ache to reach over and undo it, to let it fall down her back as it did last night.
Her eyes lift to my face and her cheeks flush pink.
‘Mr Hart and Miss Llewellyn, Captain Morris here. We’ve reached our cruising altitude. We’ve got good tailwinds into Hamilton Island today, so we should complete the flight in a little over two hours, making up for the delay at take-off now that we’re in the air.’
Her blush deepens.
‘However, we’ll experience a bit of turbulence as we get closer. I’ll try to fly above it as much as possible.’
The intercom goes dead. I return my attention to the papers.
‘You were saying?’
‘Did he say turbulence?’
‘Yeah. Why?’
‘Oh, nothing.’ She bites down on her lip; it’s the last straw. I reach out and stroke my thumb pad over her mouth and she startles, jerking her face away and staring at me with eyes that show confusion and desire all at once.
‘We both agree last night wouldn’t have happened if we’d known who we were,’ I say lo
gically, calmly. ‘But it did. We can’t close Pandora’s box now.’
To her credit, she doesn’t flinch from my calmly voiced explanation. ‘I know.’
‘I don’t want you any less now than I did when I woke up looking for you this morning.’
Her harsh intake of breath fires in my bloodstream. ‘What are you saying?’
‘I’m saying, I’m here for three days. Then I fly back to the States and we never see each other again.’
She nods, her eyes impossibly blue. ‘And?’
‘I’m here for three days.’ I reach for her hand now, stroking my thumb over her flesh, my eyes locked to hers, boring into their crystal clear depths, my intention impossible to misread. ‘And you’re here for three days. We’re going to be together, in the Whitsundays. Do you really want to ignore this?’
A small groan escapes her lips and my cock strains against my pants because I remember every single one of her delightful cries; I remember how vocal she was as we made love and I want to drive her to those levels again.
‘You’re my client,’ she says quietly. ‘I can’t... Last night was amazing, but...if I’d known... It wouldn’t have happened. We can’t undo it but I won’t make that mistake again, Jagger.’