Page 12 of Single Dad Christmas

“I’m sure. But do you mind if I go change my shoes?” She glanced down at her high heels with a look of remorse. “These are ever so slightly less into walking than I am.”

His smile was dazzling, just as it had been that morning. Her heart did a funny little poppety pop. She dug her fingernails into her palm, seeking sanity and a dose of reality.

“No worries.”

They stared at one another.

“Should I?—,”

“Did you want?—,”

She burst out laughing. “This is getting ridiculous. What were you saying?”

“I’ll wait here if you’d like.”

She hesitated a moment, knowing that was the smart decision. The only decision that one hundred per cent guaranteed she wouldn’t do something exceptionally stupid, likebeg her very, very important client to kiss her, just this once, so she knew if his lips felt as good as she imagined they might.

“You can come up,” she said, throwing caution, and wisdom, to the wind. She’d been a good girl for such a long time. All her life. It was tempting to flirt, if just for a moment, with the idea of being a little bit bad after all.

CHAPTER FOUR

“NICE PLACE,” he said, as she slipped off her heels and pulled out a pair of sandals instead.

She glanced up at him and her heart jolted in her chest.

“Yes,” she agreed, forcing her gaze beyond him, to the pretty apartment she’d rented even before leaving Moricosia. She’d put the pieces in place carefully for her escape, aware that fleeing the speculation of the dedicated European paparazzi was not going to be easy. She’d rented the place in her mother’s maiden name, to avoid detection. “I like it.”

“Have you been here long?”

She finished buckling the first sandal then moved to the second. When she looked up at him, in between, his eyes were resting on her tanned legs, and his brow was furrowed. She kept looking at him, sandals temporarily forgotten, as his eyes shifted up her body, finally landing on her face, and his frown deepened.

Her fingers shook a little as she returned to the task at hand—feeding the leather tongue through the metal buckle and fastening it. Such an easy, repetitive job, and yet she was completely uncoordinated that evening.

“Need help?” He asked, in what might have been a teasing voice if it weren’t for the tension zapping between them.

Her eyes locked to his and her mouth went dry; she found it impossible to answer verbally, so she just stared at him and did something that must have been a nod, because a moment later he’d taken the three necessary steps to bring him level to her and crouched down at her side. His hands were warm and strong as one gripped her ankle and the other mastered the leather strap of the shoe, doing what she’d struggled with.

“I’ve done it a thousand times,” she said, a little unevenly, and defensively. She felt silly. “I just?—,”

“Couldn’t concentrate?” He asked, and this time, his lip quirked with the hint of a smile, and his brow lifted in a conspiratorial inquiry.

“Something like that,” she mumbled, dropping her gaze to her thighs.

His hand shifted from her now buckled sandal to her chin, tilting it so their eyes were level. “I’m in the same boat.” It was a cryptic response. Unless it wasn’t? Unless he meant exactly what he’d said, and he was struggling to concentrate in all the ways she was—because of her?

He stood abruptly though and held a hand down for her to take, to aid her in getting up off the floor. She put her hand in his, and when he pulled her to standing, their bodies were separated by only an inch. The whole world seemed to shake.

She just stood there, staring up at him, aware of the ticking of the clock in the hall, the night birds making whooping noises, the warmth of her apartment. If they didn’t get out of there, she had no idea what was going to happen. And yet…

“We could just get something delivered?” she heard herself say, despite the obvious lack of wisdom in that idea. Beingoutwith Noah was probably the only way to make sure shewouldn’t do something really stupid. “Though my sandals would be disappointed to miss a walk around.”

He smiled again and her stomach swooshed. “Well, we can’t have that,” he said, with mock seriousness. “How about we split the difference and walk somewhere local to grab food, and bring it back here?”

She bit into her lip. “The best of both worlds? I like how you think, Mr Fox.”

“I’m not someone to settle for disappointment, Miss Petrakis.”

“I can see that about you.”

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