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An impish light returns to Jewell’s eyes. “I honestly don’t know,” she says. “I haven’teverseen McKenzie with a man.”
Byron’s hand comes up and rests on my knee, and though I want to remove it, I also love how it feels there. I have good reason to hate men. And even though I’m well aware Byron’s intentions are far from honorable, I can’t shake the pull I feel toward him.
I’m in more trouble than I can handle. And it seems to get worse with each new day. My thoughts are interrupted when Marsha comes to take our food order, then disappears again... after flirting, of course.
Luckily, she soon returns with our drink refills and breaks the tension. The conversation turns to more neutral topics. Byron’s giving me a reprieve. But I’m certain the reprieve won’t last.
Chapter Thirteen
Byron
I can almostseethe tension. This is exactly where I want McKenzie, isn’t it? So why am I backing off? I should go in for the kill, but instead I’m sitting back, eating away at my steak and pasta bordelaise, sipping on a scotch while the women talk.
Jewell isn’t paying attention to me, so I take the opportunity to look at her, toreallylook at her. When she first came around, I didn’t trust her. But it’s impossible not to notice that whenever Blake’s name comes up, no matter how subtly, she glows.
If Jewell’s an exception among women — if she really does love my brother, and they’re good for each other — is my vendetta against McKenzie still valid? I don’t want to face the answer. I’m not sure what my motives are any longer. What I do know for sure is I’m not ready to let McKenzie walk away from me.
The only certain thing about my life is that I don’t do relationships. I enjoy sex, and I like female companionship in the short term, but I don’t do the whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing. I don’t hold hands and stroke a woman’s ego. That had gained my father death... a very ugly death. A weak man in the clutches of a female who was no better than a prostitute.
But these thoughts aren’t helping. Even though I’ve only been with McKenzie for a limited time, she’s getting under my skin. Why? She isn’t playing games with me, or I don’t think she’s playing games, but still, something’s going on. I have to get to the bottom of it because I can’t stand being left in the dark. And that’s exactly where I feel at the moment.
“Do you need anything else?” Marsha asks, interrupting my thoughts, all of her attention on me.
“The pasta bordello...” I pause, look pointedly at McKenzie, and simply wink when she sends me a glare. I turn my attention back to Marsha. “The pasta bordelaise is some of the best I’ve ever had.”
“That’s wonderful to hear. I’ll let the chef know,” she says with a giggle before retreating.
We finish our meal, and when the check comes, I snatch it up and pay, including a generous tip. When the two women protest, I simply smile as I stand and hold out a hand for McKenzie. Will she refuse my help?
She accepts my hand with obvious reluctance, and I tug, pulling her off balance just enough that she stumbles against me. I look into her eyes,needingto kiss her. I don’t normally do public displays of affection, but everyone around us seems to fade whenever I’m touching McKenzie.
“Do I need to call the fire department before this place goes up in flames?” Jewell asks.
“What?” McKenzie asks, looking dazed.
Jewell chuckles. “The way the two of you are looking at each other, I think you’re going to spontaneously combust at any minute.”
I’m grateful for the interruption. I never let anyone know what I’m feeling, even in rampant lust. Besides, when I next kiss McKenzie, I intend to finish what I start, and I certainly can’t do that in a crowded bistro.
“I have to get going, McKenzie, but I’ll see you next week. Wewilltalk before then,” Jewell tells her with a meaningful look. She says goodbye to me and heads out of the place ahead of us.
I have McKenzie all to myself again as we walk down the street back to the offices, where our cars are parked. “I enjoyed Jewell’s company this evening,” I say, surprised that it’s true.
“It’s very difficult to be around her without enjoying her company,” McKenzie replies.
“How did you become friends?” I ask.
She’s quiet for a moment. “While working at your company, we talked... a lot, and our friendship grew.”
“I think I’d like Jewell if I spent more time with her.” This is a real breakthrough for me.
“Yes, you could like a lot of people if you gave them a chance.” Her voice is suddenly sad, and I need to know why.
“What’s happening in your life, McKenzie? Why all the mystery, and all the secrets?”
“I have nothing to hide,” she says with cold determination, in an attempt to shut me down.
“Not true, McKenzie. I watch you,” I say, and her eyes flare. “And I listen. You’re in trouble, and you think you can handle it, but I’ve seen your strength and I’ve seen you frightened. Sometimes it helps to talk to a neutral party.” Why in the hell am I suddenly acting like Dr. Phil?
