Can't Stop the Feeling (Whispering Bay Romance 6)

“Of course not.” But a million questions still slammed through her brain. She’d begin with the most logical one. “So, you’re raising Rachel?” Maybe this was a good time to tell him that Greta the nanny was no Mary Poppins.

“Not exactly.” He shifted around in his stool so that their knees were almost touching. The position was so intimate and… God, he smelled good.

She didn’t know whether to push her stool back, because it was all too much. Or throw herself at him. Definitely not the latter. Been there. Done that. And got burned in the process.

“Rachel is the main reason that I’m here in Whispering Bay for the next month. My mother is going to formally adopt her, and I’m helping with the transition.”

She’d thought it was odd, his renting a home here for an entire month, not when he could easily do an overnight trip to visit his clients, but it made sense now. “So your mother still lives in the area? Hopalinka, right?”

He nodded. “You remembered.”

I remember a lot more than that. She took another sip of her wine. “It’s kind of a weird coincidence, don’t you think? Me being here in town and you being here in town at the same time.”

“I wouldn’t call it weird. More like lucky. At least, on my part.”

Oh boy. She definitely needed to get this out in the open.

“You do remember that the last time I saw you, I called you an asshole?”

“No,” he said calmly, “If I remember clearly, you called me a fucking asshole.”

A few seconds passed and then they smiled, and before she knew it, they were laughing, because yes, while it had been horrible at the time, at least for her, they were both adults now and she could see the humor in their current situation. She’d been a naïve eighteen-year-old with unrealistic expectations. He’d been a jerk, but then in her experience so were most college boys, no matter their actual age.

“I guess that whole scene on South Beach was pretty dramatic of me,” Jenna admitted.

“That wasn’t actually the last time we saw each other.”

“You mean the day of the calculus final? You know I got a low C on that test.”

He playfully cringed. “Sorry about that.”

“Not your fault. I ended up with a B in the class, so it was all good.”

He turned serious. “That’s not all I’m sorry about, Jenna.”

Before he could say anything else, the hostess approached him. “Mr. Harrison? Your table for two is ready, if you’d like to follow me?”

Jenna raised a brow.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I went ahead and made a dinner reservation. Please say yes.”

He said it with a sincerity that made Jenna reconsider everything she’d thought about Ben in the past thirteen years. Yes, he’d hurt her, but so far tonight hadn’t been as horrible as she’d imagined. Talking to him like this seemed like the most natural thing in the world. As if they were back to all the times they’d spent together studying, and the night they’d had sex and the days that followed had never happened.

Except, there was a definite something in the air between them. Just like there’d always been. And it wasn’t hatred. The tension between them was both melting away and escalating at the same time.

She’d have to be careful to keep things on a strictly professional basis. Or as professional as they could be considering their history. And unlike her eighteen-year-old self, the woman she was now knew exactly who this man sitting next to her was. A handsome charmer who played with women’s hearts. Not to ever be taken seriously.

“Sure. Dinner would be fine.”

Chapter Eight

The hostess led the way to their table. Ben, being the gentleman that he was, allowed Jenna to walk ahead of him, which turned out to be an ironic joke because gentlemen didn’t stare at women’s asses. He was thirty-six years old, and he couldn’t keep his eyes off hers. It was pathetic, really. But Jenna Pantini was the one woman he’d never gotten a chance to get out of his system. Hopefully, that would change tonight.

Their table faced the water, giving them a great view of the gulf. Jenna drank some wine while he sipped at his club soda and they made small talk, which was making him a little crazy because he didn’t want to talk about the weather or college football. The only thing they needed to discuss was whether dessert was going to end up at his place or hers.

Jenna waited till their plates were in front of them and their server was out of earshot before she said, “So, you’re a big shot lawyer now. I hear you’ve even made the tabloids.”

“If you’re referring to the articles about me and Tiffany McAdams, about ninety percent of what they’ve written isn’t true.”