Page 45 of The Best Thing He Never Wanted

Bea stepped inside ahead of him, and for the few seconds it took to reach twelve, they stood beside each other, hands still joined, exchanging a smile neither of them seemed able to hold for long.

The doors opened, and Blane walked down the hallway beside her. There was no way in hell he was standing by the elevators and watching her walk away from him.

When they reached her door, she turned to face him. “Well.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Well.”

“I guess this is it.”

“Yeah.” The word came out rougher than he intended. “Guess it is.”

She rested her hand in the center of his chest, right over the part that had started aching before either of them had even said goodbye.

“Thank you, Blane.”

His hand came up and cupped her cheek. “Thank you, Bea.”

Her eyes were green again. He still didn’t know what that meant. “You be careful in Crete, you hear me?”

She laughed softly. “I will. I know I must seem rather hopeless to you, but I’ve made it through fifty-eight years without getting into too much trouble.”

“You don’t seem hopeless.”

Her smile flickered. “And you be careful too. I know you’re the one who knows how to take care of himself, but that’s because you put yourself in dangerous situations, isn’t it?”

“Not much anymore. I train the guys.”

“Still. Promise me you’ll be careful. I’ll think about you, and I’ll worry.”

He closed his eyes for a moment. “Don’t worry about me, Bea.”

“You can’t tell me what to do.”

His mouth twitched despite everything. “Yeah. Starting to figure that out.”

For a moment, neither of them said anything. Then he made himself say it. “You’d better go in. Get some sleep. That flight’s early.”

“I know.”

He said the words, but he didn’t step away or take his hand from her cheek. Instead, his other hand settled at her waist, and Bea drew in a breath.

He was close enough now that leaning down felt like the most natural thing in the world. Her fingers curled slightly against his chest, and when his gaze dropped to her mouth, she rose onto her toes.

Jesus.

He could kiss her. He wanted to. And there was no doubt in his mind that she wanted him to. That was what made it so damned hard.

He’d done the math over and over while they sat in the bar. Bea wasn’t leaving tomorrow for a trip. She was stepping into a whole new life; one she’d chosen for herself after spending most of her adult life fitting herself around somebody else’s choices. He knew what would happen if he kissed her. He’d want more than the kiss, then more than tonight, and as far as he knew, he had nothing to offer her beyond that. No plan, no promise, no idea what came next.

He refused to be the next man who asked Bea to make room in her life for what he wanted when he had nothing to put beside it. Not now, not when she was finally walking into a life that belonged entirely to her.

Her face tipped toward his, and Blane leaned down. Nothing on earth could have stopped him except himself. At the last second, he turned his head and pressed his lips to her cheek.

It might have been the hardest thing he’d ever done.

For one suspended moment, neither of them moved. Then Bea turned her face and kissed his cheek in return. When he straightened, he saw her swallow.

His hand slid once over her hair before he finally made himself step back. “Good night, darlin’.”