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She blinked at his clipped question and straightened before lifting her glass a little higher. “To success tomorrow. And bringing Ben home.”
Damn. He didn’t need the reminder that she was depending on him. Sean had depended on him, too. Not in anything specific, but still, he hadn’t been there when his brother needed him most.
He saluted Halli with his glass and then downed his wine and stood. The gun he shoved against the small of his back and then yanked his shirt over it. Her blue eyes widened in confusion, piling on the guilt.
“Did I say something wrong?”
“No.” He stacked their dinner plates together, tossed on the silverware, and grabbed his glass.
“Yes I did. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up. I didn’t mean to ruin everything.”
“You didn’t.” He’d ruined it by being a self-serving ass. “I’ll clean up since you cooked.”
“But there’s still dessert.”
Trent left that statement completely alone and went below to wash dishes. If he was lucky, she’d remain up top until he talked some sense into himself.
Luck was not his friend. Halli’s appearance made him squeeze the soap bottle too hard and bubbles mounded under the running water in the small sink. Tiny iridescent spheres floated into the air when he plunged his hands in to begin washing. She brushed past to scoop up a towel and take the first dish he rinsed.
A brief slip and slide of her fingers against his soapy hand sent a spark of electricity up his arm. He barely contained a reactive jerk. Between her close proximity in the cramped space and the tantalizing citrus-vanilla scent of the warm sponge cake, his frustration mounted. The dishes ended up cleaner than they’d ever been.
More than once he heard her inhale like she was about to say something, but each time he tensed and waited, she let the breath back out and remained silent.
He released the plug in the sink and turned for a towel in time to see her stretch to put one of the wine glasses back in the built-in rack. She could barely reach, even with one hand braced on the counter and raised on her tiptoes. Normally, a cabin cruiser wouldn’t require even a five foot three person to reach further than arms length, but he’d special ordered the boat for his height.
The subtle sway of the boat threw her off balance. Trent jumped forward. He caught her with one arm around her waist and the other steadied the glass before it toppled to the floor.
Being classified an international super star didn’t make him any less of a man. She smelled like dessert and the soft curves against his body overwhelmed his already stimulated senses. Once he secured the wine glasses in the wooden rack, his arms closed around her, his will-power drained like the dishwater.
Chapter 20
Halli’s breath caught in her chest with the warmth of Trent’s embrace. She started to turn around, but his voice sounded harsh in her ear. “Don’t.”
The strength of his hold said he wanted her right where she was. The tone of his voice said the opposite. Ever since her stupid toast, he’d been acting strange.
“We were going to talk about our plan for tomorrow anyway, so why did what I said make you so mad?”
“I’m not mad.”
“You sound mad.” She was starting to get a little annoyed herself. The wine may have relaxed her, but it also boosted her bravado. “Look, I’m sorry that I—”
“Stop apologizing!” He spun her around and braced an arm on either side of her.
“It wasn’t a real apology…” She trailed off at the fierce look in his eyes as he leaned close.
“What did you think I’d planned when you saw the table?”
A telltale flush heated her face, fueled hotter by the press of his hips and thighs holding her in place. Not that she wanted to go anywhere. And, since she’d been willing to drink the wine to loosen her inhibitions, and her face surely already gave her away, she might as well be honest.
“I thought you were looking to get lucky.” His jaw tightened, and she took a figurative step back. “Stupid, considering we both know you don’t date women like me. I’m not your type.”
“Right on all three counts, sweetheart.”
The blunt confirmation and distancing endearment put an ache in her chest. As if she expected him to deny ulterior motives, despite where they stood right now.
Yes, darn it, she had. Or she’d hoped, anyway. Because during dinner she’d fallen under the spell of his thoughtful gesture and the romantic atmosphere. With the slightest encouragement and her growing feelings of respect and trust, she’d have said yes to anything he asked.
Faced with the truth, she felt like an idiot who’d been set up. Why the heck couldn’t he have kept up the farce for both their sake? Stupid actor.
