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"War changes people, Emmaline. The man who came back from that war wasn't the one I fell in love with. Who knows how life would have turned out if I'd just bent a little?" she asks. "Maybe his life would have been different."
"Maybe you'd have been a bank robber too."
"It worked for Bonnie and Clyde, didn't it?"
"What? No! No, it did not work for Bonnie and Clyde," I say, laughing in disbelief. "Their story ended with everyone dying."
"Perhaps, but it ended with them together." Bets' eyes twinkle. "That has to count for something."
I never pegged my aunt as a hopeless romantic, but I think she may be the biggest romantic I know. I'm not entirely convinced she's right about dying together in infamy being the way to go, but maybe she and Gran have a point.
I've been fighting so hard to protect my heart from Zayne…but what if doing it means leaving his open to be broken? Is that really the weight I want to carry for the rest of my life?
"We need to talk."
"We're talking now, Zayne," I say, holding the phone between my shoulder and ear while I work on proofing the press release Camila dropped on my desk a few minutes ago.
"In person."
"We just talked in person the day before yesterday," I remind him. "You cornered me in the breakroom and kissed me." He may have forgotten, but I certainly haven't. Ever since my talk with Gran and Bets, I've thought about nothing but him and those two kisses. They've become the star of very vivid, very frustrating dreams, as a matter of fact.
"That wasn't a kiss. That was a goodbye. When I kiss you, you'll know it."
"Your lips touched mine." I glance around furtively to make sure Camila isn't close enough to overhear. I haven't told her about the kisses yet. "That's the definition of a kiss."
"Yeah? Want to test that theory?"
The little bell over the front door chimes, pulling my attention. When I glance up, one very hot giant is standing there, looking incredibly smug. And way too hot in a three-piece suit. He makes the bodyguard uniform look way too freaking good.
"Hello, lamb," he drawls.
How in the world did he call from his office number if he's on a cellphone? This is not how phones are supposed to work!
"You're supposed to be at your office," I complain into the phone.
"Forwarded the number." He smirks, leaning against the door frame. "You think I've been answerin' the phone every time you call by accident?"
"No. I thought I was just unlucky," I grumble, earning an even bigger smile from him. "Why did you call me if you were already here?" And why am I still talking to him on the phone when he's standing in front of me? Jeez.
I drop the phone into the cradle a little harder than necessary.
He chuckles before pulling his away from his ear to tuck it into his breast pocket. "I called to distract you so you'd keep your pretty little ass at your desk this time until I made it in the building. Wouldn't want you losing another tampon under that desk, baby girl."
"Oh, my God. Please leave my office."
"No, can do." He sobers, the smile sliding from his face. "We have to talk."
"We've been doing that for five minutes now."
"This is serious."
"So is this." I swipe the press release off my desk and wave it in the air. "Have you ever tried to proofread for Camila? She throws commas around like they're glitter. And we need to get this out immediately."
Our new client, Gray Larsen, has had some trouble with the press recently after a disastrous Win-a-Date contest. His date got sloshed, and tried to proposition him. She then puked on his shoes while he was trying to get her into a cab to get her home, which a few lucky photographers caught on camera. It's been all over the gossip pages lately.
Everyone is poking fun at him. Which would be fine and dandy, except a few have started to question if he did something to get her to that state. He didn't, but it doesn't take much for an athlete to end up with a bad reputation, even if it's undeserved.
Gray doesn't deserve it. He's a great guy. He's also a fantastic hockey player. He just happens to be a certified disaster off the ice. He needs all the help he can get turning the press in his favor. Camila sent him camping with the Boy Scouts the other day to help rehab his tarnished image. It didn't go well. He ended up with poison ivy in unmentionable places.
