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“What other intention is there? To become best friends?” She paced around in a circle, refusing to look at him for a moment. Images of the day when she walked in on her sister and Andrew flooded her mind, memories she tried so hard to forget. A jittery sensation claimed her, and the tips of her fingers trembled, her heart rate spiking to concerning levels for a healthy woman her age.
She stopped pacing, and for an instant, the room became blurry, and she reached to one of the tufted chairs for support, her fingers biting into the edge.
“Are you okay?” he asked, shortening the gap between them.
She lifted up a hand to keep him from touching her. “I’m fine.” Just angry. She went around and plopped on the chair, drawing a couple of deep, long breaths that would make any yoga instructor proud. She closed her eyes, willing herself to relax, even if her nerve endings throbbed with an emotion that would take longer to get rid of.
When she opened her eyes again, she found him studying her, rubbing his chin, his gaze trained on hers like something very bad would happen if he let go.
She swallowed the tight lump in her throat. “Sorry,” was her immediate response, and she hated herself for apologizing. “I mean…”
He bent down in front of her until he was on the same level, one hand holding on the arm of her chair. Too close. Even in her aftermath of a subtle panic attack, she could feel his scent, a mix of bamboo notes with dark oak and that dash of pure masculinity.
“Kira, I’m not interested in that woman the way you think. I sought her out, yes, because I wanted to close a deal with her. I’d never cheat on you.”
A deal? She bit on her lip. A small wave of embarrassment washed through her. God, she wanted to believe him… wanted to feel silly even, for thinking that just because he was a handsome guy and the women he talked to were beautiful women, that they couldn’t interact about professional stuff. But deep inside, a little voice warned her against him. A voice she couldn’t afford to ignore. “What deal? What are you talking about?”
“Nothing too complicated. I’m renting this property now, but I’m also looking for a place to live. That’s all.”
Oooh. A relief she shouldn’t be allowed to feel threaded down her spine, loosening her limbs. “Hmm… okay. I’m not sure I buy what you’re selling one hundred percent.” She sighed. “Look, I like to be upfront and honest,” she said, even if she mentally slapped herself. Hard. How could she be honest when this whole charade started because his father asked her to spy on him? “I know ours isn’t a real relationship, but we should still respect each other.”
“I respect you.”
“Next time you need to dash to network or bid on properties, don’t lie to me. I hate lies.”
“I do too,” he said, a pang of danger in his voice. Her spine locked into place. Did he mean her? Did he think she was lying to him? “Lies keep us from getting to know each other.”
“When has that ever been the goal?”
“You’re a fascinating person. Why did you freak out when you saw me talking to another woman?”
Moisture dissipated from her throat. This was it, she knew it. She had to tell him about her sister and Andrew. Not only would he find out eventually—certainly before the wedding anniversary party in a matter of weeks—but a part of her feared he implied she wasn’t all that honest, either. And he wasn’t wrong.
So, she had to give him the one thing that sadly was true. “My sister…” She bit the inside of her cheek. “I was going out with someone for a few weeks, this guy named Andrew, back in Texas. I was really into him. One day I entered my apartment and I found him fucking my sister,” she said, anger lacing her voice. “The irony was that he hadn’t even fucked me yet.” God, she wished she could erase the sadness from her voice, or wipe the disappointment from her face. Not because she’d wished she’d slept with him, but because she’d been so stupid. So. Stupid.
“Well, this man is a fucking idiot.”
“Truth. But you don’t have to give me a pity pep talk. I have this rule…”
“What rule?”
“I just… wait too long to get intimate, I guess.” No wonder at twenty-five, she’d only slept with Clint. What a waste of time that had been. She always wanted to make sure the relationship was going somewhere before she went all in.
“Him cheating on you wasn’t your fault, ma chère. It showed his lack of character, and if you ask me, poor taste.”
She chuckled. “You haven’t seen my sister. What if she’s better looking than me?”
He eyed her like he searched for a way into her soul. “That’s impossible.”
A shiver zapped down her spine, sending her erogenous parts into full alert. The atmosphere shifted to a heavy, lust-filled energy. She heard her heart thrum in her ears, and a part of her wanted to just forget… to forget about silly rules, about the promise she’d made to Mr. Montague, about how screwed up it would be to sleep with the one man who was an expert at breaking hearts.
She crossed her arms over her chest. The consequences of forgetting would last a lifetime, and ironically, those she could never forget. Staying on task and remembering her role in all this was her best strategy.
“Thank you.” She blinked, willing away any lingering sexual tension. She surged to her feet, being carefully about not touching him as she went around, and established a safe distance between them. “I need to go to bed.”
“Bon soir,” he said, in that sexy way, his accent more delicious than a double chocolate chip brownie. “Sleep well,” he said, and she wondered if she heard a twinge of mockery in his tone, as if he knew she wouldn’t be getting much quality sleep.
“You too,” she said, her voice above a whisper, then she went up the stairs, walking more briskly than usual, eager to put a buffer zone between her and the object of her temptation.
