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Molly tosses her head back in joy the minute we step onto the beach, trying to run headlong into the surf. I grab her leash tighter with both hands, holding her back as a group of harbor seals sun themselves.
I fall into my stride, my breath coming sharp and fast.
She’s used to this routine, thankfully, and she falls into a well-behaved pace beside me, her friends from the sea temporarily forgotten.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I really shouldn’t have stayed over at his place the other night.
I shouldn’t have gone there at all, knowing how helpless I get around him.
The man deserves better after sharing so much of himself.
I couldn’t be more wrong for him.
He’s fought and bled for his right to privacy.
What am I? Just an influencer who basks in the public eye, thriving on the spotlight. It’s the only way I know how to help the world.
For better or worse, our association makes me more popular—especially in the perverse way it is now.
But even if I wasn’t an influencer, he thinks I’m too young.
He may be right.
If the man could ever bring himself to take a second crack at marriage, he’ll want a wife. Someone who can do the whole wifethinginstead of just floating around his life, warming his bed and going about her business.
Not great ground for something more.
Not that we couldbeanything.
For now, it’ll be a miracle if I can help nail the coffin shut on the same scandal he hired me to avoid, rather than catalyzing it.
Molly barks and looks up at me with concern.
“It’s okay, girl,” I say, stroking her head.
I swear, the dog was a therapist in her last life. Or a guardian angel, seeing how well she reads emotions.
My breath comes faster now as I stop dragging and push back into a run, wishing the wind could wash away the feel of his hands on my body, his scent that shouldn’t still be lingering, the feel of him inside me.
If only I’d left before thewine.
I didn’t need more baggage, more bitter memories to try and forget.
I already come by that honestly as a Lancaster.
Even if he’s hands down the best lover I’ve ever had.
Hot as hell, considerate, and devilishly good at working a woman’s body. Even better at leaving kisses that linger like a sting.
I only get a few paces before I stop, feeling like I’m buried under a ton of bricks.
Yep, this isbad.
It’s going to hurt like voodoo pins straight to my heart, isn’t it?
Walking into that office soon and acting like he never touched me.
