“Are you always this messy?” I ask.
“Hazard of the job. But it could be worse.” There’s a roughness to her voice as she lightly touches the scar on my cheek. Her hands are warm against my cold skin, and my gaze roams her gorgeous face as she inspects the welt, compliments of a high stick my rookie year.
I touch her chin, lift her head a little, until her lips part.
“Josie?”
“Yeah.”
“I think Patrick is watching.”
“Oh.” She’s about to turn her head toward the glass partitioner, but I stop her. “He’s not usually here this—”
Before she can finish her sentence, I dip my head, and press my lips to hers. The second I taste her sweetness, the room closes in on me and my brain shuts down. Before I even realize what I’m doing, I slide my hand around her neck and take a fistful of her silky hair through the net. At first her lips are hesitant, then she slowly opens for me, and I swear up until this moment, I’ve never really kissed a woman before. Nope, what I was doing wasn’t kissing. It wasn’t even tasting, but now, now I’m devouring, and dammit, there is no way I’m going to get my fill.
The bell over the door jingles, and it snaps some sense back into me. I inch back and we stand there immobilized, breathless, and I can’t speak for Josie, but I’m a quivering mess of need. Her fingers go to her lips, and her head turns slowly, taking in the showroom out front. She scans the crowd. “I…I don’t see him.” Her voice is as shaky as my body.
“Oh, sorry.” I stand there and try to pull off casual, try to pretend that kiss didn’t mess with every cell in my body, but I’m not sure I’m able to pull that off. “I thought I saw him.”
“That’s why you kissed me?”
“Yeah, sure, just to really drive the point home that we’re a couple,” I fib. I can’t tell her the truth, that I’ve wanted to kiss her since I first set eyes on her. “We might have to do it again.”
“Oh.” Her eyes light up.
“For the charade.” I gesture toward the glass. “I’m guessing a lot of people in the showroom saw us, and this is a small town. Small towns have rumor mills. We want this to get around.”
“Yeah, yeah they do, and yes, yes we do.” Her voice is rattled, flustered, full of need.
“You agree, then? We’ll have to kiss a lot?”
Her chest rises and falls erratically. “I don’t really see as we have a choice in the matter.”
As I take in the sweet, gorgeous, innocent woman before me, one question jumps to the forefront of my brain.
What the hell are you doing, Brody?
6
Josie
He kissed me. NHL superstar Brody Tucker kissed me. And I liked it. Here it is hours later, and I can still feel the burning imprint on my lips. He said Patrick was watching, and he wanted to drive the point home that we were a couple, but was the kiss too much, going too far for this charade? Probably. Which means I should be more upset than I am. Truthfully, I could have stopped him. He didn’t just pounce on me; the question of yes or no lingered in his eyes, and what did I do? I parted my lips in encouragement. I should regret it. Heck, I want to regret it. Kissing another man is wrong, right? It’s a dishonor to my late husband.
I turn as Brody comes from my spare bedroom, Mabel right on his heels. “Look how good she’s doing,” he says as I take in his jeans, the nice way they hug his thighs, and the blue sweater that matches his eyes. “Such a fast learner, aren’t you, girl?” He bends to pet her, rubbing those big hands of his all over her body as he gives her a kiss on her snout, and I have to say, I’ve had Mabel for six months now and never once was I jealous of her.
Get yourself together, girl.
“You’re a dog whisperer, I get it.” He laughs, and I say, “I’m sorry I’m a little late. I had this huge order come in. A great big shipment to numerous different addresses in Boston.”
“Oh yeah?” He averts his gaze and for a second I think he’s hiding something from me, but what on earth could he be hiding? We don’t even really know one another and the fact that I invited a stranger to stay in my loft is absolutely crazy. And why did you do that, Josie? I guess it was something in his eyes, a strange mixture of honesty and vulnerability. I’m not one to trust so easily, but he’s a friend of Declan’s and Mabel is crazy about him.
“Since you’re not going to tell me where we’re going, am I dressed appropriately?”
His gaze leaves my face, trails over my sweater, and tight-fitting jeans. He scrubs his face and briefly closes his eyes like he’s in total agony, and I bite back a smile. He said he didn’t want to sleep with me, but he likes what he sees, and I shouldn’t take such pleasure in it.
* * *
Truthfully, I haven’t lived, haven’t felt attractive in a long time. He reminds me I’m a woman with needs, but I can’t give myself over to this man who is awakening things in me. He’s a player who’s leaving soon, and I’ve had enough heartache to last a lifetime.