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Charlie stilled as if stunned, but she didn’t wilt. She was silent. Simply stared at him.
The uneasy quiet stretched between them.
“I want more than sex with you,” he said, making sure he got through to her. “I want a relationship.”
A sad warmth filled her eyes, along with tears. “I have had walls up for more than twenty years, Brian. I’m not sure I’m capable of tearing them down.”
“They’re not walls. Merely high fences. I’m rather good at jumping over those.” He smiled at her. “You just have to let me.” He dug in his pocket and pulled out a key. “It’s to the front door. You can come and go without needing me to be here.”
She took the key from him. Their fingers grazed and she clung to his hand. “What if you’re wrong about me? What if I’m...” Her voice trailed off. A tear rolled down her cheek, and she quickly whisked it away.
“I’m not wrong.” He caressed her cheek. “And there’s no rush. I can wait.” No matter how long it took, even though he knew there were no guarantees. “I’m not asking you to give me forever.” Not yet anyway. “Only a chance.”
Chapter Eight
Tiptoeing down the hall in her running shoes, Charlie did her best not to make a sound. She didn’t want to disturb Brian. Truth be told, she was anxious about seeing him this morning. Their conversation last night had been nerve-racking. She hadn’t a clue how he’d take the news about her helping victims of domestic violence procure fake credentials.
But he’d taken it in stride, as usual. Brian had seemed more bothered by her continued association with her ex, Orson, than with her illicit activities. She’d never figured him for the jealous type. Or that he’d tolerate her operating in the gray. Or that he’d reject her offer of sex. Something easy. Casual.
She tried to shrug it off.No big deal.
But it had been. A huge deal in fact.
Orson never would’ve turned her down. Not even after they’d broken up. Sometimes he still tried to have an occasional hookup. Her attraction to him hadn’t gone away, but she didn’t want to be a part of his revolving door of women. Anything physical or romantic with Orson was dead and buried. Never to be resurrected.
But what kind of guy turned down a no-strings attached good time between the sheets?
She crept around the corner into the kitchen and stopped.
Brian sat at the island, wearing his shorts, a T-shirt and running shoes, drinking a glass of water. He must have been silent as a ninja as he’d gotten ready. She would’ve sworn he was still asleep.
He snapped his gaze up to hers, direct and penetrating.
Heat flooded her cheeks.
Turning to face her fully, he leaned against the counter. He flicked a look over her from head to toe, like he was striking a match against her body.
Something flared under her skin, the warmth in her cheeks spreading lower.
He was the kind of guy who knew exactly what he wanted and wouldn’t settle for less. No denying it was a turn-on.
But she hadn’t been any more prepared for his blunt declaration than she was for this face-to-face ambush while she was trying to sneak out. She had always been worried about others disappointing her if she got too close. With Brian, for the first time, she was afraid of being the disappointment.
“Figured I’d join you on your jog.” He stood, scraping the stool back against the hardwood floor. “If you don’t mind the company.”
Of course, she minded, and surely he realized it. Hence the reason for this surprise attack. “Suit yourself.” She made a beeline for the door.
“How far are we going?”
She heard the scuff of his sneakers on the floor behind her. “Only three-point-nine miles,” she answered, leading the way to the road.
“That’s fairly precise.”
“Mapped it out on my smartwatch. We’re only going to the rifle range and back. I didn’t realize you lived quite so close to me.”
His arm brushed hers, sparking a tingle in her belly. “Feels good to be close to you.”
He wasn’t only talking about the proximity of their houses, but if she focused on that, he’d see her blush.
