Page 42 of The Bachelor

“I like you,” she said. “So much. But…”

“I know, sweetheart.” His voice was tender. “I’m pushing too hard.” He reached out and flipped the ends of her hair. “I’m sorry. I’m ruining your big moment.”

“My big moment is because of you.”

“I want your heart, not your gratitude. That’s why I’m going to wait.”

She was afraid he already did have her heart. Everything inside her melted like chocolate in the sun. “I think you’re a very good man,” she told him.

His nostrils flared and his expression changed, head shaking a little. He looked like he was going to protest. She reached up and kissed him on the cheek. Or she meant to anyway.

But he turned his head. “Avery, don’t—

He ended up accidentally speaking the last word a whisper away from her lips.

She wasn’t sure what got into her. But she kissed him. Just briefly, ever-so-softly.

But it didn’t stay that way.

Shane immediately gripped her face and kissed her deeply, passionately. They both groaned. They grinded. She lost herself entirely in the feel of his muscular body pressing against hers.

Then Shane firmly set her away from him. “Sorry. Sorry.”

Avery was breathing hard. She wiped her mouth. “I kissed you. By accident.”

Shane grinned. “Damn. You’re right. And I accidentally kissed you back.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Now I’m going to leave this office and tell everyone out there that I wanted to set up a meeting with you for exclusive rights and you’re going to follow right behind me looking flustered for no other reason than because this might turn into a big deal for you.”

Her heart was racing. “Great, sure.” No one was going to believe that, but it was a good cover. Or good enough.

Instinctively, she stepped back three feet and brushed her hair back.

Then he opened the door, cool and calm, and then she smiled and shook hands and sipped champagne as staff members rotated in and out for the last twenty minutes.

By the time Jolene, Chance, and Shane had left and Pat had retreated to her office, Avery was exhausted.

“There’s no going back now,” Lauren told her, stealing the flute from her hand and draining the rest of her mimosa. “Your life just changed, girl.”

It had. Avery was thrilled and excited and terrified.

“I bet that little bitch boy of an ex-boyfriend you have is going to regret doing you wrong,” Lauren added.

That finally made Avery grin. “Who?” It made her want to grab her guitar. She reached for it. “I feel inspiration coming on. The rearview mirror. Looking in it and watching it recede.”

“Nothing but the open road in front of you, baby.” Lauren grabbed her own guitar. “Let’s write something.”

TWENTY

Shane hated surprises in general and in particular he really, really hated surprise parties. His co-workers and staff knew that full well which was why he felt hopeful strolling into his office on his birthday that no one would be annoying enough to have thirty balloons or a stripper or everyone he’d ever known in his life popping up from behind a cubicle.

It didn’t exempt him from greetings and well-wishes though. The minute he passed the receptionist she gave him a sunny smile. “Happy birthday, Mr. Hart!” she said in a sing-song voice.

“Thanks, Meredith.” Shane forced a half-smile back at her. He was usually known for appreciating a good time and he knew everyone in the office was bewildered at his abhorrence of any birthday celebrations.

But he had his reasons and only his family knew what they were.

Retreating into his office, he shut the door firmly and sighed. He hated that he hated his birthday and it had nothing to do with this one in particular being a big one. He didn’t give a shit about turning thirty. He had accomplished more in his life than he had ever expected to, and this office was proof of that. He had worked with a designer who had done a rustic-meets-industrial look, with dark woods, steel accents, and a worn but expensive-as-hell leather sofa. His desk looked like the flagship of his success, massive and pretentious and very, very clean. His assistant tolerated no empty coffee mugs or strewn papers.

He was on the fast track to even greater success and out of the record label he had been with for the last three years, he’d brought more new talent into the halls than anyone else on staff. But he couldn’t think about his success today. All he could think was that it had been twenty goddamn years since his tenth birthday, when his mother had attempted to throw him a party and his father had gotten angry.

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