One Week with her Rival:Eden Manor, Book One(6)

"I know it was just a kiss. I just said I'm not upset about it." She was  getting frustrated, but she tried to keep her tone from reflecting that  fact.         

     



 

"I don't believe you."

"That's your problem. You can believe whatever make-believe nonsense you want. It doesn't change reality."

"And you can tell whatever lies you want and act all casual and  pulled-together to your heart's content. It might fool the rest of the  world. It doesn't fool me."

She'd been working vigorously on the tile as they spoke, but now her  hand slowed down and she turned to check his expression. For once, he  looked almost serious. "Ask anyone who's talked to me today. They'll  tell you I'm not upset about anything."

"That's because you fool them with your nonchalant act."

"I don't have a nonchalant act."

"Yes, you do." He gave her an adorable little smile. "You want the world  to believe you're completely confident and composed all the time, and  most of them are fooled by your act. But I'm not. I can see all the  little signs that no one else sees."

"What little signs?" She really wanted to know the answer, since she was  suddenly terrified-like he'd seen through her, all the way through her,  exposing everything inside.

He reached over and turned her head, so she was looking at him again.  "The fact that you won't meet my eyes for more than four seconds in a  row. The fact that your smile never reaches your eyes. The fact that  you're holding onto that rag like you want to strangle it dead." He  moved his hand down to hers, brushing his fingers over her knuckles.  "That's what I see."

Her breath tightened at the feel of his hand, and she dropped the rag  without thinking as her fingers loosened. "That doesn't mean anything,"  she breathed, staring down at the rag on the floor.

He picked it up. "It means you're upset and pretending not to be. Do you feel guilty?"

Her shoulders stiffened. "What do I have to feel guilty about?"

"Nothing," he said with a smile and a shrug. "But that doesn't mean you won't feel that way."

"Carl has been dead for three years." Her voice cracked as she said the  words, so she paused to control her voice. "He'd want me to be happy.  Life goes on. I don't have to stop loving him. I know all the clichés,  and I definitely don't want to hear them from you."

"I wasn't going to give you any clichés. I was just asking. You can know  the truth and not really know it. You might still feel guilty-maybe  even unconsciously, just enough to stop you from moving on." He sounded  sober in a way he almost never did.

She swallowed hard, unable to look away from his eyes, now that she'd  found the courage to meet them. "You're assuming I want to."

His sober expression lightened slightly as the corner of his mouth turned up. "I know you do."

"It was just a kiss."

"That's what I said."

"Kissing isn't moving on."

"It's a start."

"Only if it happens again."

"I plan to make sure it happens again."

"Well, you'll have to be disappointed, since that's not what I want."

"We'll have to disagree on that matter."

Her heart was racing and her skin was flushed from their conversation  and from the look in his eyes. "You don't get to disagree about my  feelings."

"I wouldn't, if you were telling me the truth."

She didn't know what to say to that, so she just stared at him, telling  herself not to reach out and touch him the way she wanted.

He said, "I think it's normal to feel guilty, but don't let it paralyze you. Don't let it keep you from taking risks."

"I don't want to take risks."

"Yes, you do."

She made a growling sound. "Would you stop that? Not only is it  presumptuous to assume you know how I feel and what I want, but it's  also hypocritical."

This obviously took him by surprise. His shoulders stiffened. "How is it hypocritical?"

"Because you're talking as if you're the consummative risk-taker, like you never let anything paralyze you."

"Hey, I'm the one who kissed you. I'm the one who wants it to happen again."

"Sure, as long as it's on your terms. Even now, you're treating it like a  joke, like it's not anything serious. But I'm a real person and not  just here for your entertainment or for you to get something out of."

"That was one mistake, a long time ago." His eyes blazed blue with what  looked like frustration. "Yes, I was trying to charm you at first  because I wanted you to sell me your business. But that stopped as soon  as I got to know you. I'm sorry. I was a jackass, exactly as you say.  But that's not who I really am. I'm not trying to get anything out of  you but the truth."         

     



 

Her hands trembled as she partially processed his words, but she  couldn't dwell on them and still sustain the conversation, so she  intentionally pushed them out of her mind. "That's not what I was  talking about. I'm talking about how you are all the time. You use that  amused attitude to protect yourself. You always have, as long as I've  known you."

His expression changed as he frowned, and she was pleased to see that he  was actually thinking about what she'd said. "I don't think that's  true."

"Yes, it is. Everything is a joke to you, a tease. Nothing goes deep.  Have you ever thought about the consequence of that attitude? If nothing  goes deep, then nothing can ever hurt you. That's not what I'd call  risk-taking. Maybe I still feel a little guilty that I'm alive when Carl  is dead, but at least I took him seriously. I take life seriously. I  don't act like it's all a game and nothing really matters in some  attempt to keep myself from ever getting hurt."

She hadn't intended to say so much. She wasn't even sure where it all  came from. She panted as she stared at Joe's still face. It looked like  her words had struck home.

She told herself there was nothing to regret. She'd just told him the  truth-a truth he needed to hear, if he insisted on lecturing her on  being emotionally healthy.

"I do take things seriously," he said at last, his tone a little hoarser than before.

"Do you? Because you never let the rest of the world see that."

He gazed at her, the expression changing on his face, transforming from  stricken to something heated and awed. "Do you want to see it?"

She was breathless again, for a different reason now. Her hands were  still trembling so she twisted them together in her lap. She desperately  wanted to reach out and stroke his face with her fingertips. "I...I  don't know."

"Tell me the truth," he murmured, reaching out to take her face in both of his hands. "Tell me the truth, Vanessa."

Her skin burned under his touch. "I...I do."

He made a rough sound in his throat and leaned forward until his lips  gently brushed against hers for a moment before he pulled away.

It filled her body with a rush of pleasure, but it wasn't nearly enough.  She grabbed for his head and dragged him nearer, closing her mouth over  his again. This time, he didn't pull away, and he kissed her with an  urgency that made her head spin.

"This is it, Vanessa," he murmured, adjusting his body even as they  kissed so he could lean against the wall. He slid a hand down to her  bottom and lifted her until she was in his lap. "This is not a joke or a  game."

Now her heart was throbbing as much as her body. She wrapped her arms  around his neck as he deepened the kiss. She made a breathless sound  into his mouth.

"This is really real," he mumbled over her lips.

Her hands tangled in his hair, and the whole world was a heated blur of sensation, emotion, Joe.

Joe.

Then the sound of a door opening from the hall broke into her consciousness.

"Oh," a man said, with a voice that was recognizably Peter's. "Sorry. Sorry. I'm leaving."

Vanessa jerked her mouth away from Joe's and turned back to look, just  as Peter was closing the door. She thought she caught a glimpse of an  amused smile on his face.

"Oh, God," she groaned, burying her face in Joe's shirt, since it was the most convenient thing around to hide in. "Oh, shit."

Instead of being appropriately subdued, Joe chuckled. "Very bad timing."

"I can't believe he saw us. It's so unprofessional. He'll think-"

"It doesn't matter what he thinks."

"But we're supposed to be working."

"It's almost six in the evening. We're off the clock."

"But it's his house."

"We're supposed to be in this area."

"Working! Not kissing!"

"He'll understand."

"No, he won't. What must he think? We're supposed to hate each other."

Joe was smiling as he brushed his knuckles against her hot cheek. The  other arm was still wrapped possessively around her. "I don't think that  idea really fooled anyone but you."