Page 31 of Fangirl Down

It remained at his side for three fireworks, four, until his fingertips brushed—just once—over the pulse of her wrist and she shivered. That small but deliberate touch made her so light-headed, she would have pitched sideways if Wells’s body wasn’t propping her up from behind, his pecs against her shoulder blades, her butt dangerously close to his groin area.

Could he see the goose bumps on her neck? Was that low rumble in his throat an appreciative one? She didn’t know, but when his thumb pressed hard into the small of her wrist, she nearly liquefied into hot oil, ears ringing—and it was almost galling that she could no longer pretend she found him attractive in an objective way. Her body rioted when his came close—and it wasn’t letting her ignore that very inconvenient fact. A thumb on her wrist was giving her that down-deep pretzel twist that begged to be unknotted. No doubt, if they were alone, she would have taken that final backward step by now, fitting herself to his lower body.

Teasing her bottom side to side.

Oh no, you don’t. That’s not why you’re here.

The fireworks had hit their finale now, an explosion going off every millisecond, and despite her mental warnings, her pulse matched that frenetic tempo. Maybe something about the magnolia had dosed them with romance-laced air and this gravitational pull was just a side effect. It was almost like she could feel the night, the atmosphere, their closeness roping them together, along with her vow that still hung in the air. She’d meant it. His heart beat at a fast pace against her back, letting Josephine know without words that the sentiment had meant something to him. Maybe even a lot.

Her head seemed to tip to the left all by itself. Consciously or unconsciously showing him her neck? No idea. But when that sensitive area was bathed in a warm breath, she stopped caring and started wondering what his mouth would feel like. His teeth.

Wells’s chest dipped and rose dramatically, once, twice, and his hand found her hip, squeezing where no one could see, slowly beginning to draw her back... back—

As suddenly as they started, the fireworks cut out. As one, the crowd ebbed, their attention dropping from the sky, and reality roared back. The guests receded, heading indoors with a lot of excited chatter, giving Wells no choice but to step away from Josephine.

Clearly trying to get his breath under control, he stared at something in the distance beyond her shoulder. “We’ve been here long enough. Let’s go.”

“Yuh... yeah. Yup, okay.”

Smooth.

Wells jerked his chin at the ballroom, indicating she should go first. The movement was so flippant, especially after what had almost just happened—right? Had she imagined the whole thing?— she laughed under her breath a little, but the sound died in her throat when he leaned in as she passed, inhaling the air just above the slope of her shoulder, his elbow brushing against the curve of her side.

Walking was a challenge after that.

They left the terrace, walked through the party full of gawkers, and rode the elevator—empty this time—upstairs in silence. At least until they stepped off, covering the distance between the elevator bank and the door to her room.

“Josephine...”

“Yes?”

He braced his hands on his hips, shifted as he appeared to search for the right thing to say. “What happened downstairs is not going to happen again.”

Wells Whitaker: not a mincer of words.

“Right. Okay. Good,” she said on reflex, staunchly ignoring the ripple of disappointment. “I mean, really, nothing actually happened.”

“Nothing isalmostgoing to happen again,” he corrected.

Stop nodding so hard.“I mean, where could it have led? Kissing? Under the romantic moonlight? Absolutely not. That isn’t going to happen.”

“Right.” He looked thrown by the wordsromantic moonlight. “No kissing. No anything.”

“Good.”

She definitely hadn’t come to Texas with the intention of forming a romantic entanglement with the professional golfer. It hadn’t even crossed her mind. Fine, she was attracted to him. And baths made her feel more sensual than usual. The fact remained that this wasnoton the agenda. There was the not-so-little matter of rebuilding her pro shop.

Furthermore, they had this man’s career to resurrect.

When he had said near kisses wouldn’t happen again, she should have beenrelieved.

“Good?” Wells echoed, before quickly shaking his head. “I mean, right. Good. Our arrangement might be unusual, might be temporary, but the fact remains that I am employing you, Josephine. How I perform determines your paycheck.”

“I agree. The lines are blurry. Nothing good can come from blurring them even more.”

“I wouldn’t say ‘nothing good,’ but I get what you’re saying.”

“I wouldn’t say ‘nothing good,’ either. Maybe kissingwouldfeel good. Who knows? Maybe I’m the best kisser you’ve ever met in your life. You’re not going to find out.”

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