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“Up here, Marine,” she said.
He met her eyes, his demeanor already lighter. “We’ll see.”
Which was not a no. Progress.
“What are you up to today?” she asked as he started for his office.
“I have work to do on Refurbs, but I’ll be done by this afternoon. Maybe”—he pushed his hands into his front pockets and shrugged—“you and I can reconvene then.”
Chills chased down her legs, but she replied with a cool, “We’ll see.”
He sent one last glance over her before turning and walking to his office—though if she wasn’t mistaken, that walk was more of a strut.
Isa blew out a breath, her shoulders slumping from the weight of…whatever this was. Lord. She was so ill equipped for this kind of affair. If that’s what it was. She had no idea if they’d last a minute or a month. But one thing was certain.
Being with Eli was thrilling. The not knowing. The edge they danced along with each other. The bite of their retorts mixed with flirtatious smiles and veiled promises.
After a lifetime of her parents trying to line up her future for her, after pushing and fighting to build Sable Concierge into a known name, Isa was tired of toeing the line. She was ready to step off the map—to have a little unchartered fun.
That’s what this had to be with Eli.
Anything more would mean she was overly involved with a billionaire businessman. She’d already attempted a relationship with a man in a suit chasing power. Not that Eli was in a suit. And not that he had to chase power…It found him and he had the ability to wield it effortlessly.
She unpacked her bag, disliking how she couldn’t categorize Eli into the no-go zone. Soon, that dislike faded and her mind was turning over something other than her to-do list or her agenda. Her mind was on the slowly ticking clock…and how long she’d have to wait to see if he’d be up for some of that messy fun again today.
***
That woman.
Eli pulled his hands down his face and shook his head to dislodge the fuzz in his brain. Isa had lined his head with cotton batting. He sat at his desk, shifting in the seat as flashes of yesterday afternoon crashed into him. When his immediate vision had been filled with two perfect breasts, a slim stomach, and enough dark hair to blot out the sun.
This morning he’d woken feeling so much like his old self, he was surprised to find he hadn’t traveled back in time. The doctor had said there could be a subtle or rapid shift into acceptance. Every person was different.
Eli hadn’t believed it. The doctor may know what he was doing because he’d read a lot of books and had worked with amputees, but he also had four working limbs, so how could he really know?
This morning Eli considered maybe that doctor was right.
He’d climbed out of bed and into the shower and—boom—realization hit him like a Mack Truck. It wasn’t like he was gone and now he was back, more like he’d crawled out of a dark hole into the sunlight. He didn’t have to try to fake the confidence straightening his back and squaring his shoulders; it was just…there.
Because of sex.
Accompanying his getting dressed were thoughts of Isa and the way she’d tangled her fingers into his hair. The sounds she’d made when he thrust inside her again and again. And now he could add the pleased smile he’d kissed onto her face when she’d arrived to his stock of memories.
In an odd way, making her smile was equal to the feeling he’d had after they’d had sex.
Like he’d fucking won.
“Damn,” he muttered. What the hell was he supposed to do with that?
He pushed his deep thoughts aside and focused on answering his e-mails, which was horrific. He hated e-mail. Hated communicating via anything other than in person, which he didn’t love that much either. Now that he’d started the business of being in business, he found working from home had its drawbacks. Or hell, maybe no one in an office bothered to walk in and talk to you there either.
He was arriving at an uncomfortable realization. He didn’t want to run Refurbs for Vets. At all. Starting the charity had been rewarding. Creating it from nothing and moving Zach and his team into place, invigorating. But the day-to-day grind? The e-mails and phone calls and—God help him—text messages? No. He didn’t like it. Not even a little.
So hand it off to Isa.
He chewed on that thought for a moment, but only for a moment. Isa was running a business of her own—one he was technically keeping her from running. She’d go back to running Sable Concierge soon enough. He didn’t trust anyone else to have their hands in Refurbs. It was his house of cards and he was doing his damnedest not to let it topple.
Plus, he hated to ask for help.
