That was what she was afraid of. Writing with Hunter was the most intimate and vulnerable position she could put herself in, and yet she couldn’t stomach telling him no.
“There’s no one else?” she asked.
“Just you, Trouble.”
Sweet baby Jesus,he was good.
The man knew exactly what to say to make her feel all warm and gooey inside. Stronger women had fallen prey to that dimpled grin and lethal sweet talk. If Hunter turned up the charm, even half a notch, Mackenzie would be toast. Even if she couldn’t see his dimples.
“Us working together is a bad idea,” she allowed.
He made a sound as if he strongly disagreed. “No bullshit excuses. Give me your top three reasons.”
Shoulders back, fake bravado dialed toDirty Harry, she aimed her chin at the open window. “One—”
I kissed you.
“I’m writing a song for another artist who doesn’t need me to go into a studio or hold her hand, because she understands I’m a writer not a band member.”
“Sounds like BS to me.”
Shoot.
With a dramatic sigh, she turned her head toward him. Even though she couldn’t see, from the sound of his boot tapping the wood slats, she could sense where he was standing. “Two—”
You didn’t kiss me back.
“It’s been three years. We don’t know each other that well anymore. And three—”
I’m pretty sure I still have the feels for you.
“It’s hard to be creative when you’re all up in my space.”
She slammed the window closed, wanting to emphasize her point. Only, it got stuck halfway down. She struggled with it for another moment, ignoring the chuckle from the peanut gallery on the patio, before finally deciding that he was too big to crawl through the space.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to work.” Chin high enough to reach the ozone, she turned to strut off—and ran into a big, yummy wall of amused man.
“You might want to start with the sliding door next time,” he said, his arms brushing past her, and around, until her heart was pounding so hard she was certain it was going to leap out of her chest. Close proximity to the world’s sexiest man could do that to a girl.
“Most people knock,” she said, barely able to breathe.
“I’m not most people.” He clicked the last window shut. “And I didn’t want to chance you shutting me out.”
“I wasn’t shutting you out.” Even more pathetic, she was shutting herself in. Something that had to change immediately if she intended on building the life she was working so hard to resurrect. “I just wasn’t ready.”
“And now?”
He was back, his breath skating across her face. Mackenzie closed her eyes.
The air between them thickened. She moved to gain some space, but there was nowhere to go. Hunter was right there, standing between her and freedom, the heat from his closeness piercing her every pore.
She pressed her back against the wall. He moved closer. “Are you ready now?”
Heck no.More like out of time. And, after her talk with Tia, she was out of options. If Mackenzie didn’t act now, she would regret it. And she carried enough regret to last a lifetime.
“I’m willing to put myself out there,” she said, squaring her shoulders.
“That’s a start.” Instead of backing up, like she hoped he would, Hunter rested his hands against the closed window, caging her in. “Now, about those issues you seem so stuck on. One, you are a hell of a lot more than a writer to me, and I’m asking you to hold my hand. Not the other way around. Two ...”
