Page 45 of Reckless Desire

“What a romantic,” London snorts.

“Don’t be mean,” Paris chimes in from my other side. She and London are twins, but I’ve always been closer to Lo. While they are identical in looks, their personalities are nothing alike.

Paris is gentle and comes across as a bit naïve—probably a mask—whereas Lo is tough and pragmatic and often angry at the world.

The blond supermodel gently rubs a cooling concoction into my pores, and though she’s only touching my face I feel it deep in my soul. When was the last time I let someone take care of me? Or rather, when was the last time I let myself accept the care? I’ve been lonely for so long that a stupid facial brings tears to my eyes.

“I don’t want a romantic proposal. I don’t want a proposal. Period. What I want is Dan not being my boss, so I don’t have to see him, and Hunter not being in my life.” I groan, partially distressed by my situation and partially savoring the magic fingers on my cheeks.

“Is that really what you want?” Paris asks.

The question hangs there, suspended in the flower-infused air with its poisonous fingers crawling up my skin. I don’t want to want what I want. I shouldn’t. Damn Hunter with his muscles, smile and charming conversation skills. Damn him with his kissing talent and powers of arousing proximity.

“Let me enjoy this facial,” I grumble.

But I can’t relax. Dan remains my boss and I can do without his glowering. He’s ignored me since the proposal, but it feels like the calm before the storm. The man was hurt by my rejection.

Chocolates and flowers have appeared at my desk a few times, but he hasn’t tried to discuss our relationship. One that doesn’t exist anymore. Though after he thought marriage was what I wanted when I broke up with him, I worry he might not have understood we really are through.

I’m done with Dan, that’s for sure. Which leaves me with another man in my life. Jesus. He isn’t even in my life. Not for real. Why am I such a mess around Hunter?

I’ve avoided him successfully for the past few days, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about him. He hasn’t left my mind for a second as much as I try. I’ve contemplated what could have been, had I not followed him after our date. If I hadn’t made assumptions about him.

He invades my dreams. He reigns over my waking hours. My infatuation with him is ridiculous. Shit. This spa treatment is not relaxing me.

After I realized he’s never been married, I made some lame excuse and hurried away, leaving him there dumbfounded. On top of everything else I’ve learned about the man since the first day of school, I can only conclude I’ve been really narrow-minded in my view of him.

I hate myself for that. I have a tendency to think the worst in general—courtesy of my late husband—but to preemptively judge someone? Not give him the benefit of the doubt? I’m so disappointed in myself.

“What’s going on with you two?” I ask when we’re sipping green tea in the lounge after our facials and massages.

I stare into the flickering blaze of the faux fireplace, the orange and yellow flames failing to warm me inside.

“I decided to do something daring in my life,” Paris announces, her eyes closed, her blond locks splayed across the white pillow behind her.

While my sisters took advantage of their identical looks when they were in school, nowadays Paris rarely looks like Lo. She has been changing hair color almost as often as her underwear.

She’s very shielded and careful in her life, andsomething daringin her books might mean not recycle one plastic bag.

“No fucking way.” Lo laughs. “Like what?”

“I wrote down a bucket list of items I dare myself to try. The first one was to get someone else’s coffee at Starbucks.”

I sink into my bed and chuckle. “What do you mean? You stole someone’s coffee?”

“Well, I waited till they called someone’s name and then I smiled, said I volunteer and took it.”

“What?” Lo and I ask at the same time.

“First item on my bucket list. Done. I can move on.” Paris huffs.

“Didn’t they protest?” London asks.

Paris’s cheeks turn crimson. “I kind of rushed out, but nobody followed me. The adrenaline was real though.”

London lifts onto her elbows. “Did you enjoy the drink?”

Paris turns to look at me, biting her lip, and then she throws up her arms in exasperation. “I gave it to a homeless person because I felt bad.”

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