Finally, the words that had been simmering in his gut during the walk back boiled over. “I’m sorry.”
She looked surprised to hear his voice. “Like you said last night, I started it.”
“That’s not what I meant.” He’d played this all wrong. Crickitt wasn’t some shallow girl looking for a fling. And he hoped she didn’t think that’s how he saw her. She was transparent and vulnerable. Honest and complex. Qualities he wasn’t sure how to handle…especially when rolled into one woman. Was it any wonder he’d royally blown it back there? “I should have—”
“Shane? Let’s not autopsy what happened, okay? Monday things will be back to normal.”
He nodded, accepting the loss, and put the car in reverse.
Normal. Whatever the hell that was.
* * *
Pride goeth before the fall, Crickitt thought, recalling her reaction on Saturday. Like it or not, Shane was honest with her. And that was more than she could say for herself. Not that she’d been dishonest, per se, but she’d certainly been inconsistent. One minute, she’d climbed him like a cat on a curtain, the next she was oiling the lock on her chastity belt.
Shane breezed into her office, the scent of his aftershave whirling around her and causing Crickitt to swallow a lump of regret. Why did he have to look so good today? His sleeves were rolled casually to his elbows, showcasing corded forearms, and his face was shaved smooth.
It was torturous to think of what could have been, but she’d thought about it anyway, succumbing to a weekend’s worth of self-imposed manual labor. She’d been scrubbing her refrigerator’s shelves lamenting the action her prim lacy duvet wasn’t seeing. Then she’d shined every window inside and out and wished her muscles were sore for a far naughtier reason.
Shane folded the day’s agenda and stuffed it in his pocket. As if in tune with her thoughts he asked, “Do anything fun this weekend?”
You mean besides what I did with you?
“If you consider housework ‘fun,’” she said.
“Housework, huh? I baked.”
His comment brought with it thoughts of unrushed chocolate kisses…the ones that came from Shane’s lips rather than tiny foil wrappers. Her heart sped beneath her breast, desire taking the place of good sense.
“Baking is a great way to burn off sexual frustration. Like housework,” he added with a wink. Hoisting a thumb over his shoulder he said, “Pies and cookies in the break room.”
How did he do that? Look so disarming while admitting he’d entertained the same fantasies she’d had about him over the weekend. This was her chance.
Eat crow or forever hold her peace.
She was tired of being pragmatic and practical. So far all her careful plotting had gotten her was divorced and temporarily jobless. If an incredibly attractive single man wanted to take her to bed—an idea that made her hair curl even more—why shouldn’t she be allowed to say yes?
“I’ve been thinking,” she said, eyes on the pen in her hands. “I’d like to have some more of those cookies.” In case he missed her double entendre, Crickitt looked up and reiterated, “I may have been remiss on Saturday…when I said no.” Her heart tapped out an SOS, but she refused to take back her words.
On second, third, and fifteenth thought, what Shane had offered at the waterfall wasn’t all that unreasonable. He was a busy CEO working five to six days a week. That didn’t leave much time for a girlfriend. And, if she were being honest, it was too soon after her imploding marriage to consider a relationship. Keeping things casual didn’t have to mean they didn’t care about each other, only that they wouldn’t have impractical expectations.
Shane came to the corner of her desk and sat, reminding her of the passionate kiss they’d shared. How he’d held her while she cried. How it felt to have his arms around her. How charming and funny he’d been.
Shane touched her arm, sending a rush of warmth through her body, buoying her hopes. Then he spoke, sinking them.
“No, Crickitt, you were right.” He spread his hands. “And hey, look at us, practically back to normal already.”
He gave her a friendly pat. “It’ll pass.”
Chapter 20
It’ll pass?
It wasn’t what he wanted to say. What he wanted to say was, Yes, Crickitt, you were wrong. Let’s take the rest of the day off so I can show you how wrong you were.
Okay, that wasn’t quite it, either. But something…something other than agreeing that their sleeping together was a bad idea.