Page 66 of A Whim and a Prayer

She looked away, grabbing another plate to dislodge the food before dumping it into the bubbles. “I just need time,” she whispered.

He slapped the towel on the counter. “Time for what? To get over the kisses we shared? Because I got news for you, Dennehy—I’m not getting over them.”

Her lashes sank along with her shoulders while her voice was a frail plea. “You have to get over them, Beck … and so do I.”

He clasped her arms to face him, his hold as tight as his jaw. “And just why is that, Winnie?”

She avoided his eyes while she bit at her lip. “Because I want our friendship back. Those kisses scrambled our brains, Beck, and we both need time to reestablish what we had.”

His grip loosened into a gentle buff of her arms. “I want to reestablish our friendship, too, Winnie, but with more this time.”

She shook her head, gaze still averted. “There is no ‘more,’ Beck—how many times do I have to tell you that? We’re just friends—why can’t you understand that?”

He let her go to plow fingers through his hair, desperate to hold on to his temper. “I understand you wanting to remain just friends, Dennehy, but for the life of me, I don’t understand why. Not when you’re as attracted to me as I am to you.”

She backed away. “I am not attracted to you that way!” she hissed with a stamp of her foot.

He pierced her with a hard look. “You’re lying, Winnie—I could see that the moment we kissed in the play.”

She leaned in with fire in her eyes, thumping a fist to the counter before quickly locking her arms to her waist. “It’s called ‘acting,’ Campbell, can’t you get that through your thick head?”

Acting? All he could do was stare at her for several moments—noting the tension in her shoulders, the stiff fold of arms like a barricade across her chest, and the fear in her eyes—before he slowly expelled a strained quiver of air. “What are you afraid of, Winnie?” he asked quietly.

She stepped back to rub her arms hard as if she were chilled, a habit of hers whenever she was nervous.

Or afraid.

When she finally spoke, she looked up with a sheen of fear that socked him in the gut. “I’m afraid of losing our friendship, Beck,” she whispered, “of losing what we have”—a lump jerked in her throat as her voice faded to barely audible—“afraid of losing you ...”

Her words were an arrow, cramping his heart. “Aw, Winnie,” he whispered, stepping forward to gather her in his arms, holding on tightly. “You’re never going to lose me because I love you and I always will. Don’t you understand that?”

She pushed back with palms pressed flat to his chest, peering up to implore with her eyes. “And I love you, Beck”—she swallowed hard—“but if we became more, I … I don’t know that I always would.”

A frown dug deep at the bridge of his nose. “Of course you would. When two friends fall in love, the bond is deeper still.”

She shook her head, bobbing those silky curls he so longed to bury his fingers in. “No, you don’t understand.” She clutched his arms this time, giving him a little shake. “Beck, you’re my oldest and dearest friend—didn’t you listen all those times I broke up with guys I liked? Something happens to me inside the minute they start to like me back. Oh sure, it’s wonderful at first—the kisses, the closeness—but then something happens in here”—she placed a palm over her heart with a look of dread—“and suddenly I can’t stand to be around them anymore.”

He felt a shiver ripple through her that shuddered through him too.

She shook him again—harder this time. “I grow to despise them, Beck, do you hear? And I can’t …” Another muscle jerked in her throat as she moved away, arms crossed and cordoned to her waist like a barrier while her chin rose to counter. “I won’t … let that happen with you.”

She turned back to the sink as if the matter were all settled, triggering his ire as she continued to remove food from plates and drop them into the water. “So you see, that’s why I’m asking for time apart, Beck, to get our friendship back on track and help get over this annoying attraction that the play seemed to bring out.”

A nerve quivered clear to the back of Beck’s jaw. “I see—an ‘annoying attraction.’ In me, but not in you …” He plucked the dishtowel from the counter.

She gave a nervous shrug as she scrubbed a plate hard. “Well, no, not really. I mean, sure, maybe there was a tiny seed of attraction, Beck, but for me, it was mostly acting.”

Her words lit the fuse of his temper and his muscles instantly tensed—jaws, shoulders, fists, and neck all feeling the strain—a new development with Winnie of late. She continued on as if what he felt or thought didn’t matter, and he could feel his patience begin to crack …

“So, Beck, if you don’t mind, I think we should take a break from spending time together for maybe a month or so. You know, just some space to get our friendship back on track.” She peeked up out of the corner of her eye. “Don’t you think? Then you can just focus on teaching chess to Julia.”

A tic pulsed in his cheek. “Sure, Winnie. I’ll give you all the time you need—starting right now.” Hurling the towel onto the counter, he stalked toward the door, his brain doing a slow burn as he contemplated the idiocy of her rationale.

“You’re in love with my daughter, Beck, so act like it. You have my permission—in fact, my utmost plea—to remind her every time you see her that you’re in love with her.”

Palm to the wood, he paused, anger suddenly surging through his veins like liquid fire. Doing an about face, he stalked back to where she stood hunched at the sink, head bowed and hands buried deep in the bubbles, perfectly still.

A gasp left her lips as he whirled her around and kissed her soundly, his lips dominating hers until her moan gave way to let him in. Heat engulfed him while his mouth explored hers, teasing and tasting the only woman he ever wanted to love. Until he finally let go, so abruptly that she wobbled against the sink with eyes glazed and mouth agape. “Yeah,” he said as he delivered a slant of a smile with a stone cut of his jaw, “and that was acting too.”