Page 32 of That Conflicted Feeling
Hisnipples stare right at me.
“DidIwhat?”
“Deliberatelybring me here to deliberately get me filthy in the hope it would piss me off, soI’dstop trying to financially compensate you?”
Damnhim.Damnhim.
Hesees right through me.AndthereIwas, thinking it was me who’d seen right through him.
ButItake serious issue with the spin he’s put on it.
“Financiallycompensate me?Youcan dress up the words any way you like, they still mean buy me off and shut me up.”Ipress the heels of both hands to my forehead. “But, for the love ofGod, put your shirt back on.”
It’sactually the last thingIwant him to do, but it seems like the right thing to say.
“Well, you haven’t pissed me off.Idon’t care.”Hedrops the white shirt in the mud on top of the tie.
Iturn my back on him.Whatthe hell amIsupposed to do now?Isthere an etiquette book that advises on the appropriate reaction when a perfect male physical specimen is half naked and covered in dirt in your goat field?
Thesound of his feet slapping in the mud as he walks up behind me sets me off again, and my body rocks with silent laughter asIlean forward, gripping my sides, and try to get my breath.
“Oh,God…Ican’t…”Iflap my other arm behind me in apology. “Sorry…”Igasp. “Ijust…can’t…”
“Youdid, didn’t you?”Hisvoice is right behind me now.
Istraighten and wipe away the tears of laughter building in my eyes asIturn around.
Myheart jolts.Ididn’t realize he wasthatclose. “Oh, my goodness.”
Lord, yes, there he is.Veryclose indeed.Thereare just inches between his bare chest and my fully clothed one.
Agiggle catches in my throat as my laughter comes to an abrupt halt.I’msuddenly warmer than anyone wearing aT-shirt on a spring evening should be.
AndIcan almost hear my breasts screaming to be unleashed and pressed against his smooth chest.
Hetwinkles down at me from behind thick dark lashes. “Youplanned this.”
Helingers on each word as his mouth quirks at one side, and he nods knowingly, as if he beatMissMarpleto figuring out whodunnit.
I’mat eye level with his fine collarbone, which is crying out for a damn good kissing.Mytrembling fingers instinctively move to my lips.
Hetakes half a squelch closer, and his breath warms my face, setting my heart and my pulse in a battle to outrace each other.
Myeyes drift up and fix on his pillowy lips as they form the words, “Thatwas sneaky.”Hedraws them out, emphasizing each syllable. “Andmanipulative.”
Ilean toward him like there areMaxmagnets on the tips of my nipples.
Theother side of his mouth joins in the smirk. “Andquite brilliant.”
HethinksI’mbrilliant at something.Thisbillionaire, community-wrecking hunk of gorgeousness admires my business tactics.Ican’t imagine ever receiving a higher form of praise.
Hisfingers brush my upper arm, then wrap around it in the same gentle but firm way he shook my hand outside the shop.
Heleans down toward me, so close he must be able to hear the banging of my heart.
Itip my head back to see what’s going on behind those bright, fascinating eyes.WhenIfind them, they latch onto mine, and hold on tight.Theydon’t waver, not even the tiniest fraction.Andthey set a thousand butterflies in my belly dancing to the beat of my pounding heart.
GoodGod, he’s going to kiss me.
