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That’s new.
The girl I knew would mock me for being authoritative, not flutter her lashes while her cheeks blister red.
Her pretty red lips move, yanking me back to a time when I craved her animated, unfiltered love for life. Back then, she’d befriended a poor boy from Ohio who longed for delicate touches and late afternoon conversations about nothing and everything.
My heart races as she speaks, but I don’t hear a word through the pulse pounding in my ears. I don’t even know who that boy is anymore.
“I’m sorry, what was that?”
Her eyes narrow, forcing me to blink away the thoughts of her innocently probing my tongue with hers when I taught her how to kiss. “I said, what are you doing in Keerah?”
What may have been a brief show of desire is now entirely consumed by fury.
Mad are we? Well, that makes two of us.
“My father’s branching his business across the island. We moved a subbranch for luxury homes here about six months ago.” She snorts, and I agitatedly flex my hands. “Declan and I run this office.”
I don’t like the flash of alarm in her eyes at the mention of my father. “You’re working for him?”
“Logan’s the uptight boss, and I’m the sexy architect responsible for all the incredible designs.” Declan threads his hands behind his head. “Though, I should mention I keep the best ones at my place.”
I’m going to choke the life out of you, my glare communicates. To Penelope, I elaborate, “Dad’s in charge of Elite Properties in Tauntuma.”
Dad? I’m already slipping into familiarity with her, and I don’t know how to feel about that. Nor do I know how to feel about reassuring her that he’s hours away, on another part of the island.
“I see,” she says, uncrossing her arms.
Her blouse dips low, exposing lightly tanned collarbones, and I can feel her bare skin against my lips as easily now as what feels like a lifetime ago when it was soft, sun-warmed, and supple beneath my inexperienced touch.
“And your girlfriend? Excuse me, she’s probably your wife by now.” She feigns an apology with a hand splayed over her chest. “Where does she fit in with your fancy new role working for your tyrant father?”
I can’t help but be curious of the jealousy lacing her question. “No girlfriend, no wife.”
Pen studies me a moment longer, and when I check her hand for a ring, she quickly hides them behind her back.
I don’t know what game fate is playing at, but it’s taking every ounce of self-control I possess not to drag her across the hall to my office and keep her there until I have the answers I’m looking for.
Popping her lips, she spins to Declan. “On second thought, I don’t think I’m the right fit for this position.”
“What? You’re more than qualified,” he argues. “I mean, graduating from Stanford was impressive on its own, but with a degree in communications, you’re more than fit for the job.”
Our gazes lock, and I know she’s going to bolt any second.
Her hands fly up, head shaking as she hurriedly crams her foot inside her shoe. “I’m lucid dreaming. That’s the only explanation for why you’re here, in my city, with a Chippendale for an architect.” She slips the other shoe on before snapping her fingers. “Any minute now, you’ll disappear, and you,” she says, jabbing a finger at Declan, “will rip that suit off, dance on top of the desk, and I’ll have a good laugh about this whole thing once I wake up safe, sound, and far away from here.”
Dec and I share a wary glance.
“I mean, I’ve done much shadier things for less…”
“Shut up, Declan.”
Attempting to make an exit, she skirts around me, but I latch my hand around her arm. “Wait.”
The contact vibrates through my palm, electrifying nerves that have long since been severed, burned, and purged from my body. It takes more effort than I care to acknowledge not to groan, and I’m not even touching her skin.
Stay, my heart screams. Please.
But I tell the stupid thing to shut up. To quit being so weak when I’ve worked so hard to perfect a vision of a man of strength, power, and worth.
