The sun had set, leaving a warm breeze in its place. Sean leaned against the door frame, watching Abigail fiddle with the forks and spoons. Every time she leaned down, the front of her shirt dipped, giving him the perfect view of the most edible cleavage he’d ever seen. Would she ever learn to trust him again? Damn, he’d really messed up.
Eric walked out onto the patio, hefting two plates laden with large portions of lasagna. “Want to grab the salad on the counter?”
Sean found the wooden bowl heaped with mixed greens and grabbed the two bottles of dressing.
When he returned, Abigail was pouring wine into three goblets. Before they sat down, she poured a glass of water for Sean. His chest felt too tight. She might be pissed at him, but she still took care of him.
“Abs, you sit over there,” Ron said as he scooted out the chair next to where Eric was sitting down.
Sean didn’t look up as he pulled out his chair and sat. He didn’t have to. The sweet scent of coconut drifted beside him when she sat down. It didn’t escape his attention when she timidly scooted her chair, just a bit, to get away from him. Yeah, that hurt like fucking hell. She couldn’t even stand to sit next to him for a meal.
“Ranch or Italian?” Abigail asked. “Sean, do you want any dressing?”
“Huh?” Sean glanced over.
“Do you want some?” Abigail said to Sean. “I know you like ranch, but I didn’t know what you wanted.”
Abigail’s sweet voice pulled him from his lowly daydream. Even if she refused to sit close to him, at least she would speak to him. “Sorry, I’ll take ranch. Thanks.”
“My God,” Eric said. “I think that’s the most words you’ve strung together all day.”
He fought a snort and poured the dressing on his salad. “Don’t you want any?” he asked Abigail.
“No, thanks. I’m…I’m not feeling so great. Trying to cut back anyway.”
He loaded his fork with a bite of the gooey pasta. “Why?”
She poked at the leaves. “Why what?”
He waited to swallow. “Why are you cutting back?”
Her fork hadn’t moved from beside her plate. She picked at the slice of garlic bread. “I just am. Ron, I want to make an appointment with our Web guy.”
She’d dismissed him. If she thought she wasn’t going to eat, she had another think coming. He took the bottle of dressing and poured a dollop on her bowl of salad. While she sipped on the wine, he speared her fork into the slab of lasagna on her plate. “Eat, please. You need to eat.”
With wide eyes, she looked over at him and set the glass of wine down. His pleading look dared her to say something, anything. She picked up the fork and cut a small piece of lasagna. He couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his lips.
Chapter Eleven
Abigail sat at the dining table, sifting through the pile of mail Ron had sent up from the office. The neat piles were divided into bills, orders, fan mail, and junk mail. The thought of tackling the bill pile made her heart race. She’d spent the last two days poring over the ledgers, trying to remember the things Sean had told her about the accounts. The lines blurred and the numbers jumbled whenever she tried to calculate the columns. Yesterday had been a productive day. She’d met the bank officer to decode her business accounts. Turned out, Sean had been right. Her worth added up to be more than she ever could’ve dreamed.
Bonuses were in order, she thought and swallowed the last bit of cold coffee from the mug. A growl bellowed from under the table.
“I told you. He’s gone, girl.”
A squeak, squeak flew across the hardwood floor as Penelope raced into the living room, clutching the rubber squirrel in her mouth. “You’re no help!”
Three days had passed since the dinner at Eric’s house. Three days since she’d seen Sean’s gorgeous face. Heard his deep laugh. Three days since she’d felt his tight skin under her fingertips and listened as he spoke in that soothing voice that always seemed to calm her nerves. The urge to slip her hands around his chest to feel his beating heart was a fight like she’d never experienced before, sitting on the lounger rubbing aloe into those tense muscles. When he’d run his hand down his tight stomach, she thought her underwear was going to catch fire. Damn, the man was sexy and knew it. When she’d told them she’d decided to skip the movie and head home, his lips fell and puppy-dog eyes sulked back at her from across the couch. She wanted to stay, God she wanted to stay, but it wasn’t worth the risk. Now it felt like it sure as hell would’ve been. Her pussy ached to feel his thick length sliding in and out of her body.