Page 65 of Turning Up the Heat

“It wasn’t the most important thing to me.”

She felt tears pool in her eyes. “So why did you quit?”

“My father told me he was retiring, and then he named Carolina as his successor.”

Her mouth hung open. “Are you kidding?”

“I wish I was. So, I left. I quit. They’re content to keep doing things the same way until you and your brothers put us out of business. There’s nothing I could even do to help if I wanted to.”

“So, what are you going to do?”

“I’m not sure.”

“What happened to starting your own distillery?” she asked. “I remember you telling me about that.”

“Yeah. Between us, I would like to explore that option a little more.”

“Like I said then, I would love to help you out with anything you need.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that. But for now, I’m just trying to get used to being single and unemployed.”

She laughed. “Well, seeing as how you don’t have anywhere to be for a few days—” She paused. Her brain was telling her mouth to stop talking, but her lips wouldn’t listen. “Why don’t you come over?” She squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for his answer. It had been a stupid thing to say, and she wished that she could take it back.

He chuckled. “Did you just invite me over for an interstate booty call?”

“No,” she insisted. “Because that would be a bad idea. Why? Would you want to?”

He didn’t say anything, and she wished she could see his face. She could picture his every feature, every line of his body. In person, she could read him easily, but she could tell nothing from the full beats of silence. He could hear him take a breath. “I do still want you, Gemma. Make no mistake about that. I want to say yes. And if it was anywhere close to being a good idea, don’t think I wouldn’t be on my way to the airport right now. But I think it’s best if I don’t, and we say good-night here. Let’s not let this get any more complicated than it already is.”

Shot down.Swallowing the lump in her throat, unable to speak around it, she nodded. He was right; it was best if they said goodbye. “All right, Tom, if that’s what you want—”

“If this was about what I wanted,” he whispered, his voice low and dangerous—lust-filled, “I’d be down there with you right now, but it’s about what you wanted,” he reminded her.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “You know, I guess I should let you go. It’s pretty late.”

“Okay. Good night, Gemma.”

“’Night,” she said, hanging up. She looked around her empty house. She’d made a mistake thinking that she could go back to her regular life. There was no regular life for her anymore. Not one without Tom, but he’d made his wishes clear. He was staying away. She drank the rest of the rum in her glass and blinked back the tears that formed in the corners of her eyes.

She’d really made a mess of things.

---