She swallowed over a thick throat.
Their lives might never intersect again.
Did she really want such an extended, potent reminder of what she’d soon miss so terribly?
She glanced down at her lap. “I don’t know.”
“About my paying for the trip?” His hand covered hers, and her bones turned liquid. “We both know I can afford it.”
That wasn’t her main concern. But still … “For now. Maybe not for long.”
He didn’t argue. No, he did something infinitely worse.
“I need you.” Suddenly, their fingers were interlaced on her thigh, and his voice was low and hushed and much too close to her ear. “Wren, please.”
They both knew he didn’t actually need her. But she couldn’t turn him away, not when he spoke to her with such pleading, such … intimacy.
Her scattered thoughts buzzed through her head, fuzzy and contradictory, and she tried to gather them into an orderly row.
Under these circumstances, what was the right thing to do?
Because of his loyalty to her, his professional life had just fallen to pieces around him. He could use a friend, and he could use help planning his trip. Spending this time with him might hurt her more in the end, but if he wanted her by his side, she needed to do better than she’d done in that convention hotel.
She owed him.
More than that, she … cared about him. Very much. Even though he was a major pain in the ass and a total brat and the sexiest, most bighearted man she’d ever met.
For him, she’d do the right thing. Which, in this case, wasn’t the wise thing, but fine. Earlier that night, she’d reminded herself that pain was inevitable no matter what she did. She’d survive.
He lifted their joined hands and rested them against his bristly cheek, and people on other continents must have been able to feel the thud of her rocketing pulse.
“Please,” he repeated, and it was a raw whisper, his breath warm against her wrist.
She sucked in a deep breath, but there wasn’t enough air. “You’re not paying.”
It wasn’t merely a cease-fire. It was full-on surrender. They both knew it.
“I am.” Oh, crap, he was rubbing their hands against his jaw now, and the prickle of it was delicious. “I defended your honor, Lauren. You owe me, and an honorable woman pays her debts.”
When she chanced an outraged glance upward, his eyes were alight. Dancing.
He was playing her. He didn’t actually think she owed him, but he was more than willing to take advantage of her guilt, and dammit …
Dammit. It was working.
“To be specific, you owe me two weeks of good hotels and gas money and fresh seafood and tour tickets and whatever souvenirs I may choose to buy you along the way. And you have to promise not to apologize for any of those expenses. Which will all be covered, to make things absolutely clear, by me.” He raised his perfectly arched brows, the cocky bastard. “It’s the least you can do, really.”
“Two weeks?”She should remove her hand from his. She would, any moment now … once he stopped playing with her fingers. “The wedding is next Saturday, so how in the world—”
“We can leave tomorrow. It’s not as if you have an extensive wardrobe to pack.” He directed a damning glance toward her bedroom closet. “A week up to the redwoods and the wedding, and a week back. Two weeks, Wren. That should cover your balance. For now, at least.”
Over her lifetime, she’d had very few male friends. She hadn’t realized just howaffectionatethey could be. Because that was definitely Alex pressing a kiss to the back of her hand, the brush of his soft, warm lips a jolt of lightning down her spine, and she couldn’tthink.
Maybe this was what friendship with a man looked like without work involved?
Through the muddle of her clouded thoughts, something was niggling at her.
“Alex, I—” Right. That was it. “I can’t leave until Wednesday, at the earliest. When I told Sionna I wasn’t working anymore, she took Tuesday off so we could hang out together.”
