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“But something about him makes you want to cross that line,” Daphne said.
Slowly, I nodded. “It feels ... safe, I guess.” I swallowed. Hard. “Hemakes me feel safe enough to consider it.”
“Safe how?” Richard asked.
I blew out a hard breath. “You know what it was like for my parents. They probably started their relationship thinking that their bickering was cute too. And then it wasn’t so cute after years of fighting.” I clasped my hands in my lap and watched the skin on my knuckles go white. “So maybe I can experience the fun part of that kind of relationship withBurke now, while he’s in my life. I’ll move on to another job after this,” I said quietly. “And he’ll go back to Florida. It’s perfect.”
Daphne and Richard were quiet, and when they shared a long, loaded look, I prepped myself for them to tell me this was a horrible idea.
Which was fair. I could flip a coin at any given point in my days and land on a different decision when it came to Burke.
Sometimes I wanted to climb onto his lap and take a nap. See how that big hand felt if he played with my hair while I fell asleep.
Sometimes I wanted to climb onto his lap sans clothes and see how long it took before he tossed me onto the closest horizontal surface. See how that big hand felt when it fisted my hair back.
The dilemma was obvious.
Neither was a convenient feeling. And both stemmed from a shocking lack of physical affection over the last few years.
I loved my life. I wasn’t moping through my days or seeking out any guy who glanced my way. It wasn’t like I woke up with some deep sense of yearning for a husband.
But I couldn’t deny that being around Burke was triggering a different sort of yearning.
It was a hairline crack at first. Something to be smoothed over and ignored. The butterflies were simply signs that I wasn’t doing as good of a job at that as I’d initially thought.
Which left me no other choice but to act.
Or I would eventually, if my older, wiser family members would give me advice.
“What?” I asked them. “Why are you staring at each other like that?”
My godmother broke the look first. She turned toward me. “How do you plan on approaching him with this idea?”
I blinked. “Am I supposed to have the answer to that now?”
“I’d suggest nudity, but that’s me.”
I rolled my eyes. “Of course you would.”
“You sound like you’ve decided,” Richard added.
“I haven’t,” I answered slowly. “I’m ... interested. And I think if we go a few more months without acting on all this”—I waved my hands around my face in a way that I hoped conveyedexplosive sexual tension—“I might lose my mind.”
Daphne sank back on the couch. “That’s the best, though.” She sighed. “One of you will just hit a breaking point andbam. Sex in a broom closet at work.”
Richard pinched the bridge of his nose. “Daphne.”
She smiled fondly in his direction. “Remember when we were limber enough for that?”
I jammed my fingers in my ears. “Stop. Oh mygosh, stop.”
They both laughed, but Richard’s face was beet red.
Daphne laid her hand over mine. “You know my vote. You want to enjoy the good-looking man when he’s naked? Go for it. Be safe, be honest when you talk to him, and tell him what you want.”
“That easy, huh?”
She smiled. “I have a feeling he’ll get on board pretty quickly.”
