Page 10 of Beyond the Spotlight Discreet Version
He rubs the sore spot and glares at me.
I drop my arms and pace the compact space. “You were going to kiss me, and I panicked, and even though I want to kiss you, I can’t. We can’t because that’d be inappropriate, right? You want me to be Adeline’s nanny. You can’t offer me a job and kiss me in the next breath and...”
My words are as fast as my racing heart. I place my palm over my chest as if that will help slow it down. I just assaulted a celebrity. Will he want to press charges? I donotneed another assault charge on my record.
“I need to leave. I’m probably going to get fired for assaulting you, anyway. I’ll just go grab my things now and if you want to press charges, I understand.”
He grabs hold of my arm to stop me from walking past him.
“Savannah, calm down. I won’t press charges or report you.”
I grimace, spotting the red mark forming on his jaw. “But I punched you.”
“Yes, you did.” He sighs and lets go of my arm, leaving my skin hot from the contact. “You’ve got a proper right hook too.”
“Proper right hook?” I repeat. The words pierce through the anxiety coursing through my body, and I laugh. Full belly snorting laughter.
“Are you seriously laughing right now?” Reynold gapes at me, as I’m unable to control my giggles.
He’s not angry, though. He’s smiling, failing to hold back his amusement at this... situation.
I breathe in and out slowly, attempting to control myself, and wipe the tears out of my eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I say the same time Reynold says, “I’m sorry, Savannah.”
“You’re apologizing tome?”
“Yes. I never should have tried to kiss you.”
“Right. You shouldn’t have.” Even though I’ve imagined kissing him since the moment we met on that plane. Even though I haven’t stopped thinking about him for the past two weeks. “And I shouldn’t have punched you.”
“Right. You shouldn’t have,” he says, echoing what I’d just said.
“Clearly an accident.”
“Clearly.”
We stand in silence, staring at each other for what had to be a minute.
“Okay, well, I need to get back to work,” I say, weakly and unsure because I don’t want to leave him. “It was... interesting meeting you. Good luck finding a nanny.”
Once again, he grabs my arm when I try to walk by him.
“Wait...”
My stomach dips at the desperation in his voice.
“I don’t care that you punched me–”
“You should.”
“But I don’t. Call me crazy—”
“You’re crazy.”
He scowls at me. “Please. Just hear me out.”
“What’s there to say?” I hold up my hand to list with my fingers. “One: we almost kissed, and that’s just begging for disaster. Two: I punched you. And three: you’re famous.”
