Page 33 of Beautiful Enemy

“I’m wondering if you always keep a bottle of liquor in your car.”

His eyes crinkle at the corners. “Only today.”

We head inside, finding Barney waiting in the low nightlights of the kitchen. Harrison leans down to pat the eager pet before grabbing a lowball glass from the kitchen shelf and starting toward the stairs, glass in one hand and bottle in the other.

I don’t think it’s a good idea for him to drink more, or alone, given what this day means to him. “I want a sandwich,” I blurt.

It’ll keep him from drinking, plus put real food in his stomach in case he continues.

“You’re asking the wrong man.” But he pauses on the first step long enough that I try something crazy.

“Please?”

With a wary look, as if he’s guessing what I’m playing at, Harrison relents and crosses to the fridge.

The dog makes a hopeful noise as the door opens.

“Natalia keeps the good stuff in here,” he murmurs, pulling on a drawer.

“She hides it from you?”

“Used to when we were kids. I ate anything in sight for a few years.”

He uses the fresh bread on the counter and serrano and hard cheese from the fridge to make two sandwiches.

Claiming seats on opposite sides of the table, we eat in silence.

I wonder if it occurs to him that this is the longest we’ve gone without sparring.

“Enjoying the view?” He catches me checking him out, and I swallow my bite and nearly my tongue along with it.

“Your brother’s hotter,” I say when I recover.

Harrison lifts a brow.

“What? He’s my age.” I shift in my seat. “Unlike you.”

Blue eyes cool on mine. “Don’t let me stand in your way.”

The comment shouldn’t disappoint me. It does.

Tonight, I swear he looked at me like I was more than means to an end.

It was unexpected, but more than that, it was thrilling.

We finish our snacks, and Harrison offers the last piece of meat to Barney, who spins in a delighted circle.

“You don’t strike me as the dog type.”

“My brother bought him for me after Eva left.” Harrison takes our plates and sets them on the counter.

“Said he was to keep me company,” he goes on, “but I think he wanted to soften me.”

We start for the stairs, Harrison gesturing for me to go first.

He’s behind me, so close that if I turned, we’d be touching. His strong chest and arms, those unearthly blue eyes, his vile, gorgeous mouth.

“Did it work?” I ask over a shoulder.

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