Page 50 of The Best Part of Breaking Up

If it was ever fluttering in his throat.

“You know I had my first kiss at a fireworks show?” I muse.

His gaze dips across my mouth. “Oh yeah? How was it?”

“Somewhat disappointing, on both counts,” I chortle. “His name was Charlie, and he had nacho breath. And at some point before the grand finale, the fireworks trailer caught fire and they had to extinguish everything to prevent an explosion. Plus I had bangs, and it was humid out. Total disaster.”

“What could possibly be disappointing about all that?” he laughs.

“I guess I imagined it would be more romantic.”

“The boss babe of breaking up believes in romance?” he asks in mock horror. “Tell me more.”

“Just because I don’t have time for it doesn’t mean I think it doesn’t exist.”

“Ah, yes. I’m sure you slide it right into your contacts.”

“It hurts when you say things like that,” I admit irritably. “Boundaries are pretty romantic in my book, thanks.”

“Boundaries like yours seem to indicate the only way to your heart is to sneak in and steal it.”

I shoot him a dirty look, while my heart thumps wildly in my chest, as if reacting to the prospect that it could be stolen. To the idea that maybe it might enjoy the thrill of being stolen.

“I guess I should be careful around you, then,” I say. “Grand theft auto. Dr. Pepper. You’re a regular Danny Ocean.”

“I am not the Dr. Pepper Thief,” he defends, thoroughly amused. “But I know who it is, if you really want to know.”

“You know who it is because it’s you.”

“It’s not me,” he grins earnestly. “But if that’s what you’d prefer to believe…”

“Who is it then?” I laugh.

“No. You’ve made up your mind.”

“C’mon tell me. Now I need to know.”

His gaze meets mine with such playful intensity that for a moment we’re right back where we were on the edge of his desk. His mouth looks so damn kissable that I almost close my eyes and sway forward. At the last instant, his lips quirk up on one side.

“It’s Ronnie,” he whispers.

“What? No,” I scoff. “Vegan, non-GMO, sugar-free Ronnie?? You’re making this up to scandalize me.”

He sits back in his chair with a smug grin, dragging his gaze back towards the windows.

“Trust me, Heidi. If I was trying to scandalize you, I’ve got much better ways to do it.”

Holy hell.

The heat that spreads up my neck is immediate.Ideas of what exactly he might mean by that statement flick through my mind, and my pulse becomes a steady, impossible-to-ignore beat. In my chest. Between my thighs. Along the very edges of my being. I wet my lips, shifting in my seat, hoping to quell the way his words tighten through me.

“But that’s not why we’re here, right?” he says.

His voice is husky and warm and inviting. This is a challenge. An invitation. But also, a warning. This is everything I said I wasn’t doing with him. I’ve clearly sustained a traumatic brain injury and am making questionable decisions, and somehow, he knows it.

I suck my lips between my teeth, giving him a resigned nod.

“Right.”

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