Page 89 of Joker in the Pack

Desperation tinged my voice, and I hated myself for that.

“I shouldn’t be leading you on.”

Words fell out of my mouth before I could stop them. “But I-I-I really like you.”

I’d never bared my feelings to a man like that before, but when Nye turned, his stony mask told me my effort had been in vain.

“Liv, if I thought you were the type for a fling, I’d have you moaning underneath me upstairs by now. But you’re not. You need a white knight.”

“But what if I’ve fallen for black?” I whispered.

Because I had. The timing couldn’t have been more wrong, but the man was right. Nye might have made my insides churn and my legs tremble, but it was more than that. He also made me feel secure. Nye was no Edward, and no Tate either.

He backed me up against the counter and leaned forward, one hand either side of my hips. Stormy eyes looked down into mine.

“I’m not the man you’re looking for.”

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”

“Stress does funny things to people.”

“I didn’t say that because I was stressed!”

Nye stared at me, and I pushed his hand away and sidestepped. Okay, I did sound just a little stressed.

He closed the gap between us again and cupped my cheek in his hand. “I’m going to save us both from future heartache and walk away. One day, you’ll thank me.”

“You arrogant—” I started, but he’d already left the room.

How dare he assume he knew what was best for me? A few seconds later, the living room door closed behind him. Not closed. Slammed. I eyed up the bottle of red on the table and got halfway through pouring myself a glass before I gritted my teeth and threw it down the sink.

No, I wouldn’t resort to alcohol this time. If nothing else, I had to thank Edward for preparing me for this. Although my heart hurt worse for a man I’d never even kissed than it did after the demise of a two-year relationship.

I washed the dirty dishes on autopilot, then climbed the stairs alone. How did I misread things so badly? I’d dreamed of having Nye beside me in bed, and now I didn’t even have a cat.

The cool expanse of cotton seemed to taunt me as I closed my eyes. Sleep wouldn’t come easily tonight. Life would have been so much more straightforward if I’d liked Tate or Warren in the same way as I did Nye.

Why did my heart crave the one man I couldn’t have?

CHAPTER 27

ANOTHER NIGHT PASSED with little sleep. I kept thinking of Nye on the floor in the lounge and wishing I could turn the clock back. Why hadn’t I just laughed off the “delicious” comment? I should’ve known he wouldn’t have wanted to get involved, but no, I just had to lay my cards on the table and make a complete fool out of myself.

My only consolation was that when I got downstairs, bleary eyed and dopey from lack of rest, Nye looked the same.

“Sleep well?” he asked.

“Nope.” I couldn’t be bothered to put a brave face on things anymore. “You?”

He shook his head. “Coffee?”

“Make it strong.”

After two cups of liquid caffeine, Nye pulled a sports jacket on over the top of his customary black jeans and T-shirt instead of his usual leather one.

“What?” he asked when he caught me looking. “I can do smart.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Sort of.”

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