“I said some terrible things last night. I was needlessly cruel.”

“You’re not the one who should apologize for last night,” she said, with an uncertain smile. “I was way out of line.”

His sigh was laden with weariness and even a little despair.

“I like to tell myself—and you—that I keep you at a distance because I’m being professional. But the truth is a little more complicated than that.”

“Complicated how?”

“In ways I don’t care to elaborate right now. I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry. I was an asshole. I immediately regretted the things I said and the way I said them.”

She considered the wholly unnecessary apology. For some reason, it was important to him to apologize, and she recognized the futility in belaboring the point.

She nodded, and her smile widened. The awful awkwardness of that morning dispelled, thanks to his words.

“It’s okay. Would you allow me to buy you a birthday lunch?”

His eyes darkened and he hesitated before nodding abruptly. “I could eat.”

“Oh, thank God,” she breathed. “Because I’m starving, and I didn’t fancy eating alone with you staring at me from a different table.”

He smiled. A small, beautiful smile that gave her a glimpse of teeth and the flash of a dimple. He stood up and turned to hold out a hand to her. She took it without hesitation, loving the feeling of that big, calloused palm closing over her much smaller hand. He helped her up…but didn’t immediately release his hold on her once she was standing beside him. Instead, his thumb absently traced a circular pattern over the back of her hand as he looked at her for a long moment. The searching stare left her breathless and sent pins and needles fizzing through her bloodstream, setting every nerve ending on fire. It raised gooseflesh on her arms and peaked her nipples.

He released her hand, and she felt the loss keenly but sucked in a harsh, anticipatory breath when he lifted his hand to her face. The same thumb that had played havoc with her senses, traced the line of her jaw and angled her face upward.

“You’re a thorn in my side,” he admitted gruffly. “An uncomfortable, often annoying, little burr. Stuck in there and digging deeper and deeper into my flesh despite my every desperate attempt to dig you out.”

“Sounds painful,” she whispered.

“It’s fucking excruciating. If you tunnel any deeper, you’re going to leave a scar. I have enough scars. I don’t want, or need, another one.”

She didn’t know what to say to that. Didn’t know what he meant. She was about to ask him to elaborate when he shook himself. Visibly shook himself.

“Let’s eat, Ms. H.” He stretched out an arm, inviting her to lead the way, and she watched him for a moment longer before nodding and walking ahead of him toward the Garden café.

Chapter Twelve

This would be their first meal together. Sure, in the past, Ty had been present while she ate and vice versa, but they had never sat down at a table together with the intention of sharing a meal. He wouldn’t have permitted it.

Today, he didn’t rightly give a fuck. He wanted to have lunch with her. Wanted to pretend that this wouldn’t all have been for, and with, Teddy, if the idiot hadn’t bailed on her. What if…he wasn’t just filling in for some gangly accountant? What if…he and Vicki had started this day with the intention of taking a leisurely stroll around the park, before sitting down to lunch together?

What if…

Jesus, he sounded like a fanciful teenager. What next? Would he purchase a diary and breathlessly record every detail of his secret crush on the blank pages?

There was no point pretending. She had as much as admitted that she would rather not eat alone and had couched her invitation in a hard-to-refuse birthday offering. He would have looked like a dick if he’d refused her.

But truthfully, refusing the invitation hadn’t occurred to him. And he couldn’t find it in him to regret his acceptance.

Not when she was sitting there with that warm smile on her face, her elbows propped on the table. Her breasts plumped between her upper arms, making her modest cleavage look deeper than it really was. And he happily allowed his gaze to drift over that sweet face, down her slender neck, into the mysterious, scented valley between the small mounds of her breasts.

“How was your party last night?” she asked, slipping the thick paper straw between her plump lips and sipping her sparkling Limonata. She had replaced the sunglasses with her normal spectacles, and he could see the lively interest in her eyes.

Christ. No woman should make the innocent act of drinking from a straw look so fucking erotic. And it wasn’t intentional. He knew it wasn’t. Her attention was wholly focused on his face, and she wasn’t even aware of the fantasies he was currently weaving around her full pink lips.

Tags: Natasha Anders (Un)Professionally Yours Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net