Page 45 of Fire in You

My lips parted, but I couldn’t get any words out, and my heart was really going crazy now. I lifted my gaze to his and I was snared. For a few brief seconds, there was no past, no yesterday and no tomorrow. There was just now, just Brock and me in this car, his thumb tracing invisible lines over my hand.

Then the light turned green.

A car honked behind us.

A boyish, almost sheepish grin curved his lips and he hit the gas pedal. I looked at our hands. What was he doing? What was I allowing? Biting down on my lip, I slipped my hand free of his.

For a second, his entire hand was flush with my thigh, the weight burning through the thin material of my skirt. Heat pooled low in my belly. His hand was just there for a few seconds, but my body’s reaction was sharp and swift. Arousal pounded through my veins.

Then Brock seemed to realize that his hand was actually on my thigh and he jerked it back.

I exhaled softly, turning my gaze to the window once more. Houses blurred past as we drove down the main street in Martinsburg. I willed my body to get itself back under control.

“Jillian?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you seeing anyone?” he asked.

The question caught me off-guard. I started to say no, but realized that wasn’t exactly true. “I kind of am.”

The grin of his went up a notch. “You sure about that?”

I didn’t answer.

Because I wasn’t.

* * *

Through what turned out to be a three-hour long dinner—the longest dinner of my life—there were only two instances when I had difficulty following the conversation of the two fast-talking gentlemen from the west.

Brock had noticed immediately that I hadn’t picked up on what they were saying. I don’t know if I had a “WTF” expression on my face or if he was somehow just tuned into me, but he smoothly repeated their statements or questions.

The two men didn’t seem to realize I had any problem hearing them, and after the initial double take I received and expected from most people, they didn’t stare.

They wouldn’t.

Both men respected my father too much for their stares to linger, and frankly, they were too in awe of Brock to really notice I was there.

So I ordered a glass of wine.

Or two.

Tyler James, the older of the two men, was most eager to see the Martinsburg facility. “We definitely have some time tomorrow. Our flight isn’t until the afternoon.”

Brock, who’d stuck to drinking only water, took a sip as he glanced over at me. “That would be perfect.”

Holding onto the stem of the wine glass, I nodded. “We actually have two higher-level mixed martial arts classes in the morning, if you’d like to take a look at them.”

Both men agreed they’d be interested in seeing some of the training in action, but the big surprise was when Brock mentioned my idea for expansion, advising that we were looking in the direction of offering dance and possibly gymnastics down the road.

“A lot of untapped potential you have there,” Mr. James said as the check arrived. “We are definitely interested in potentially working together in the future.”

Shocked that he’d even bring it up and that he would credit me with the idea, I was bowled over when both men, whose company specialized in high-protein drinks and bars, wanted to be kept in the loop about the possible endeavor.

It was close to nine-thirty when we stepped outside into the much cooler night air. The men said their goodbyes to Brock and then me, shaking my hand. It was Tyler James who spoke. “I’m really excited to hear more about the possible expansion.” He smiled. “I think you got something very interesting brewing there.”

“Thank you,” I said, bubbling with elation. If Brock was on board and if possible endorsers were interested, then getting my father on board shouldn’t be so difficult. “I think so, too.”

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