I went through to the living room, and–
God.
She was facing away, into the garden. Her slender legs were outstretched, crossed at the ankles as she leaned back against the scratchy upholstery of the outdoor furniture. As I watched, she drew them in, tucking her feet up onto the cushion beside her and leaning over the chair’s armrest, looking at me. The soft glow of the garden lights looked like gold across her skin, her hair shining copper. Wisps of it had escaped from her ponytail to curl around her face. A long day in the park, probably. My stomach clenched.
“You’re home,” she said.
I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry.
“Yeah,” I said. “I am.”
I went to the open French doors, leaning against the frame.
“How was the dinner?” she asked.
I shrugged.
“What do you do?”
“Accounting.” I said. It was true–I was the CFO of a global bank–and on another day, it would have felt like just another facet of a fairly boring life. But tonight, the scent of sun-warmed brick hung in the air and it seemed to me like our history together hung there with it. I knew she was thinking the same when she smirked.
“Oh. Right. I heard you’re pretty good at it,” she said, and then her eyes dropped down into her lap.Ravished by the Rakelay garish and purple against her soft thighs, one finger slipped between the pages to mark her place. She looked up at me again through dark lashes.
She was so goddamn beautiful.
Tally was worried that I was alone.
But if I was alone, it was not because I hadn’t found anyone I wanted to spend time with.
Ihad.
And she was the one person I couldneverhave.
“I am,” I said. My voice was harder than I meant for it to be when I continued. “I’m the fucking CFO, aren’t I?”
She flinched, the smirk falling from her face.
“Sorry, I–” I rubbed the bridge of my nose. “Long day.”
“Want to… talk about it?” she asked, nodding her head at the chair beside her own.
I didn’t. What Iwantedto do was to peel that little sundress from her skin, lay her down on the grass, and lave my tongue over her folds until she was begging for more.
“Want a drink?” I asked instead.
Her eyes widened.
“Youarelegal to drink, aren’t you?” I asked, just to torture myself, and her eyes narrowed again.
“I’m twenty-six,” she said. “Yes, I’mlegal to drink. Do you know how muchschoolyou have to complete to be a fifth grade teach–” She cut herself off with a scowl. Her pretty face was so expressive I could practically read her mind:she wasn’t a fifth grade teacher, not right now.Just a nanny. “Do you have bourbon?”
I couldn’t have her.
But one drink with her couldn’t hurt.
CHAPTER14
Flora
