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But she was looking at me expectantly, her beautiful eyes on mine. “I thought you wanted to be alone,” she whispered.
I had to keep my fists balled so I didn’t reach out and touch her. “I want to be alone with you.”
She blinked, her throat moving as she swallowed.
I held my breath, waiting for her to say no. To tell me once more that I was out of my mind.
But she didn’t. She said, “Okay.”
Chapter 5
Winona
I’d lost my mind.
Completely and truly lost my mind.
That’s how this felt.
Mitchell Harrington flew on private jets. Dated film stars. But for the first time ever, I saw him smile, and I knew I’d made the right decision.
“You have a nice smile,” I said, before I could stop myself. “Maybe you should consider having fun once in awhile.”
He scowled. “I know how to have fun.”
But he wasn’t as serious as he had been before. Maybe this was what he was like under all that heavy, layered pain. Maybe I could help him see that, at least for tonight.
“I’d love to see that,” I laughed. But it fell away as I felt his eyes on me; those deep green eyes that searched my gaze as if they could strip everything extraneous away.
“Would you?”
Could he see what I was thinking? That when he’d looked at me a moment ago, told me he didn’t want to be alone, that my heart had broken for him? That I could picture the boy he’d been; one who dreamed of telling stories? Or could he see the words floating right in front of me, the ones Cher hadn’t planted but uncovered. Mitchell Harrington. The man you’re going to have a scorching hot fling with.
Because that’s what I wanted, wasn’t it? That wasn’t why I’d said I’d stay. But now, it was all I could think about. It didn’t make sense—this man was the opposite of the kind of man I thought I liked. But my body hadn’t gotten the memo. Now, standing in front of him, his almost-innuendo hanging in the air between us, I felt like I had in that bathroom the other day, when we’d stared each other down. When just like now there’d been a sudden pulsing in my chest. A delicious flood of heat that radiated down to the most sensitive parts of my body.
As if he could sense it, Mitchell’s eyes travelled down my body, lingering on the places my wet coveralls clung to me. “You’re all wet,” he said, his voice low.
The pulsing turning to a throb; an ache between my legs. “Wh-what?”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “Your clothes.”
Lord help me. “Oh,” I said. “Oh, yeah.” Jaysus, Winona!
“Anita!” Mitchell said into the house, without taking his eyes off me. We were still standing at the threshold.
“Yes, Mitchell?”
“Show Winona my bedroom.”
“This way, Winona,” Anita said. The ceiling lights by the hallway blinked in two short bursts.
I gaped, and the quirk turned into a shit-eating grin. “To get changed,” he said. “Choose anything you want from the closet. I’ll meet you back inside.” Then he turned and strode toward the pool house. Over his shoulder he said, “Don’t worry, there are no cameras in there.”
I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. “You’re a shit, Mitchell Harrington,” I called after him.
He turned around, still walking. “You haven’t seen anything yet, Winona.”
My stomach jolted. What was that supposed to mean? Why did I suddenly feel as if I’d lost all control of this situation? And why did that feel so… good?
