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He finishes his glass and comes back to the bedroom doorway. He looks everywhere but at me, even the bra hanging off the bedside lamp. There must be something going on in the pea-sized brain, or he’d be making up his couch bed and keeping his distance.
“Spit it out, Donny. We both know you’re going to keep lurking until you say whatever it is you have to say.”
“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.” He continues running his hands through his hair, and I’m worried he’s going to pull a chunk out. “I’m just thinking. I’m in a bit of a pickle.”
I can’t help but laugh. Who says that? “First, you’re not eighty years old, so please never say that again. Second, just fucking tell me so we can both move on with our lives. Please and thank you.”
Donovan blows out a breath and unbuttons his suit jacket. He tosses it on the bed with a pained expression, like it physically harmed him to make a mess. His vest is next and when he unbuttons the cuffs around his wrist and the first two buttons of his dress shirt, my mouth dries up, and all I can do is stare.
He rolls up one sleeve and then the other, and I don’t think he knows what that does to women. It’s like watching porn, but instead of trying to juggle my phone and vibrator, it’s live and I’m not free to touch myself. Or rather, I shouldn’t.
His arms aren’t overly muscular but perfectly toned and with his sleeves rolled up like that, all I can focus on is his long manly fingers and where on my body he can put them. On my breast, pinching my nipples, driving in and out of my….
FUCK.
Not helping.
“Violet?” Donovan breaks my perusal, waving a hand in front of my face. And since I was just imagining those fingers doing something else, it’s terribly inconvenient.
“Yes?”
“Are you listening to me?”
“Of course.” I scoff, knowing full well I didn’t hear a thing he had to say. Didn’t even realize he was talking, to be honest.
He gives me a look of blanket disbelief, and he crosses his arms. “Okay. Then what did I say?”
I stare at him, right into his unamused blue eyes, and twirl a black lace thong on my finger, hoping it distracts him, and we can move on from this conversation. You know, like end it.
His gaze flicks to the panties, then back to me. His facial expression never wavers, and he doesn’t express the slightest interest in my undies. Damn. “Nice try. What did I say, Violet?”
“Fiiiiiinnnee.” I huff, tossing the thong on top of the pile of clothes on the bed. “I wasn’t paying attention.” I sweep my arm out for dramatic effect. “Please repeat, oh wise one.”
Donovan’s lip twitches, and he mutters something about pain and ass that I’m pretty sure is directed at me before turning on his heel and marching back to the living room. With a sigh that’s almost as dramatic as I am, he flops down on the couch and slides down to an impressive slouch.
He’s given me an out and I really should take it. Get back to ‘unpacking’ and mind my own damn business. Sure, he’s giving me a place to sleep, but I could have just as easily gotten back on the road and driven my happy ass out of here. If anything, we’re almost even for how he walked away from me like a fucking coward. Almost. So, I’d be justified in hiding away in his room.
But fuck.
Damn him and damn my heart for being a soft ball of mush and not the hardened fortress I’d like to think it is.
With a muttered unladylike curse, I make my way to the living room and plop down next to him. I cross my legs and look straight forward. If I’m going to sit here and listen to him unburden his soul, I’m sure as hell not going to look at him. “Don’t think this means I like you or feel sorry for you, but I’m listening.”
“Thanks.” It’s a nice sentiment, but the way his voice drips with sarcasm sort of kills it. He shifts on the couch, possibly moving further away. “That was my events coordinator on the phone. She’s got a family medical emergency, so she’ll be out this week and not only was she supposed to be running a wedding, but she hadn’t finalized anything for the end of the summer party. In case you didn’t know, that’s on Saturday.”
“And? Does she not have an assistant or any other staff?”
“No.” Again with the hands through the hair. “I think she’s trying to make herself invaluable by refusing to train anyone else. I have someone who can run the wedding, but Saturday is going to be a disaster. It sounds like she doesn’t have anything booked and it’s fucking six days away.”
“Doesn’t seem good.”
“No. It’s not.”
“So, what are you going to do? Do you have someone who can figure it out?”
“No.” He sighs. “Everyone is going to be busy enough with the wedding. I can’t think of anyone else who’d even have the time. Which I guess means it’s on me. I’m not too proud to admit that I don’t know the first thing about organizing an event like this. The biggest party of the year and I’m going to look like an idiot. This year could ruin me.”
There’s a desperation in his voice as he says the last sentence that has me swiveling to face him. His eyes are haunted as he stares off into space, and I don’t like the way it tugs at my heart. It feels like this is important.
