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“I don’t know.” She was becoming the queen of I-don’t-knows. “I’m not the kind of girl men stick around for—”
“Bullshit.” The gentleness disappeared from Savannah’s voice. “He didn’t stick around. He couldn’t, and deep down you know that, but since then you haven’t let anyone get close enough to stick. I can name two reasons why that’s the case, but neither has anything to do with you not being sticky enough.”
“Okay, fine. Maybe I’m not looking to get stuck? I know this might be hard to believe, but if you look past the glow of your own happiness, you’ll see a whole bunch of people—me included—who prefer casual, non-stick arrangements.”
“How would you know what you prefer? You got hurt once. Things took an unplanned turn, and you got in way over your head. The experience left a scar. I understand. But you’ve been guarding yourself ever since. You’re not sixteen anymore. You’re a grown-ass woman. And a grown-ass woman knows how to handle a relationship without getting in over her head.”
“You sound just like Mom.”
“She’s astute, our mother. But I bet even she doesn’t have a clue as to the other reason you’ve avoided handing your heart to anyone again. It’s because—”
“Why is it that everyone who gets into a serious relationship suddenly becomes an expert on love?” The heart in question started to pound, but she mustered up a laugh. “Henpecked single people everywhere want to know.”
Savannah went on as if she hadn’t interrupted. “You haven’t given your heart to anyone else because the best parts of it are already spoken for. Shane has them. He’s always had them.”
“That’s not true.” She forced another laugh, which came out hollow because her lungs refused to hold air.
“Whether you like it or not,” her sister insisted.
“I don’t like it.” The words flew out of her mouth, loud and angry, and not at all the outright denial she’d intended. She dropped down in a chair at her kitchen table and rested her forehead in her hand. “I don’t like it,” she repeated, letting the underlying truth settle over her. “Shit. What am I going to do?”
“He wants a second chance, Sinclair. You both deserve that much.”
The sound of tires rolling up her driveway propelled her into motion. She got up and crossed to the door. “There’s so much baggage between us.” A lift of a handle, a hard tug, and the big door rolled open. She stepped out onto the stone porch and pulled the door shut behind her with a bang. The Range Rover rolled to a stop just a few feet away. “What if it doesn’t work out?”
“What if it does?”
“Spoken like a newlywed.”
Shane came around the front of the Rover, all masculine grace and rangy muscles in a black Henley and army-green utility pants. The late-afternoon sun put copper highlights in his uncharacteristically windblown hair, but the thing that really made her knees go weak was his face. A good day’s worth of stubble lined his jaw, and the look in his eyes suggested she could expect to feel the rasp of it on every inch of her skin.
“Gotta go,” she mumbled in the general direction of her phone and hit disconnect a moment before two strong arms pulled her up against the hard bluff of his body and a hot mouth covered hers.
Chapter Twelve
He’d meant to clean up and arrive on her doorstep looking a little less like he’d been running his ass off for the better part of forty-eight hours. But a quick shower and change of clothes had been the best he could manage, because he’d gone and done something impulsive—something besides haul her into his arms and take possession of her mouth as if he could suck every doubt out of her head with a long, thorough kiss—and ended up scrambling to get the details of a new plan in place.
Sadly, that plan didn’t involve delivering orgasms in her driveway, so he ended the kiss in stages, cupping her jaw, brushing his mouth over hers, lingering there for increasingly brief moments until she sighed against his lips and opened her eyes. “You’re late.”
He was. Five minutes. “You?
??re strict.” He kissed her again, hard and quick. “You can punish me. Later.”
One dark brow arched. “Careful what you promise, Maguire. I might hold you to it.”
As she spoke, she rubbed her palm over his cheek, and it occurred to him she’d never seen him unshaven before. At least not since going without a shave for more than a day made any discernable difference. Did she like it? He sure as hell liked the feel of her hand smoothing his jaw. “I’m at your mercy, once we’re through with today’s tour.” He took her hand and led her to the car.
“Speaking of which, what is on this afternoon’s itinerary?” She halted by the passenger door and tucked her phone into the pocket of her black, insulated ski vest. “Am I dressed right?”
He used the question as an excuse to inspect her, from the top of her sexy, bundled-up hair to the toes of her black-and-gray cross-trainers. True, he got a little caught up in the way her white thermal top clung to her breasts, but not so distracted he didn’t consider if it would keep her warm enough once the sun set. Probably, but he could if it didn’t. He opened the passenger door. “That works.”
“Great.” She climbed into the Rover, unknowingly treating him to a glimpse of long legs and her perfect, heart-shaped ass in skintight black leggings. Would she notice he’d only answered one of her questions?
As soon as he settled himself behind the wheel, she asked, “Where are we headed?”
That would be a yes. He reversed into a turn. “On a hike. Nothing too grueling.”
“Okay, fine. But where?”
