“Kat’s eight months pregnant with her first. So, soon.”
She tapped the frame of one of the paintings and shot him a look over her shoulder. The red lipstick was faded—it had taken a beating when he’d kissed her on the boat, as evidenced by the fact that he’d had to wipe a bunch of it off his own mouth, and her hair was windblown from the crossing. It didn’t seem to matter. The disheveled look was good on her. Down, boy. She’s touching your stuff, remember?
“These don’t really seem like you.” She frowned up at the pastel abstracts.
“They aren’t.” The paintings were nice enough, but nothing he normally would have given a second glance. “A neighbor here is an artist, and we islanders are a tight-knit lot.”
“But you had to buy three?”
He shrugged. “She has twins in college.”
She recoiled as if he’d struck her. “Wow. That’s so…nice of you.”
“Anyway,” he said, waving away the compliment…or insult, or whatever it had been. “Art appreciation is not why we’re here.”
“Right.” She turned and fixed those gorgeous blue eyes on him.
He took a step back. Oh, crap. That was not what he’d meant. Nope. Not happening.
She took a step forward, catching her bottom lip with her top teeth. Oh, certain parts of him wanted to go there again, were pleading for just one more taste, but he had to be good.
She shivered. His ego hoped it wasn’t only from cold, but it also served to remind him of his original mission.
“Follow me,” he said, turning and leading the way to his bedroom. Like all the rooms in the cottage, it was tiny. A queen-size bed took up nearly all the floor space. He stopped in front of his dresser on the far side and began rummaging through it for some clothes for her. A normal person would have waited on the other side of the bed. But of course Amy wasn’t a normal person. She stayed on his heels, and as he bent to retrieve a shirt, she drew her hand down his back. Logically, he knew her hands were cold. So why did her touch feel like fire?
Ignoring the prickly sensation her proximity inspired, he cleared his throat and straightened, jammed into the tiny space between the dresser and her. She literally had him boxed in. One more step, and she would be able to feel what she did to him.
He handed her the clothing, using it like a shield between them. “You can change into this. But you should shower first, get warmed up.”
She looked at him like he was speaking a foreign language, like she wasn’t sure how to respond. He saw uncertainty in her eyes, then resolve. She bit down harder on her lip before speaking. “You’re going to keep me company, right?” Her tone, quavering and hesitant, didn’t match her bold words. Something in him wrenched to see her so vulnerable but trying to be so fearless.
“I can’t. But believe me, it’s tempting.” If she only knew how much. Not jumping her right now was turning him into a twitchy wreck.
Her face fell. He felt like a jerk. But not as much of a jerk as he would be if he went through with it.
“Wow,” she said with false bravado. “Left at the altar, and I can’t even score a pity fuck.”
“Hey, now,” he said, pushing past her but grabbing her hand to make sure she followed. It was only a few steps to the bathroom. “Every single guy in that bar was checking you out. You could have had any of them, and I guarantee pity would have been the last thing on their minds.”
“But you talked me out of it.”
“Yes.” He flipped on the bathroom light and maneuvered her so she was standing in front of him and they were both looking in the mirror. God, she was gorgeous. But with her makeup faded, she looked younger. He knew from her drunken rant about Mason that she was twenty-nine, but right now she could pass for a decade younger. He didn’t regret for one second hustling her out of that bar. To think of her at some other guy’s house being preyed upon when she was at her most vulnerable? It was inconceivable. “You’ve had quite the day. And though I understand the impulse to want to act out, I think you should give yourself some time. Make sure you’re not just trying to get back at Mason.”
“I am trying to get back at Mason. That’s exactly what I’m doing.”
“Well, you’re not doing it with me.” God, listen to him, all ethical and upstanding all of a sudden. This was not how he imagined his day ending when he popped into the office to get a little work done.
“So what was that on the ferry?”
She was right. He hated being called out as a hypocrite, but there was nothing to do now but own it. “A mistake.” That crushed her a little bit. He could tell by the way she overcompensated by straightening her spine and tensing her jaw. He felt bad, but it was better to pull the Band-Aid off now. “Take a shower. A long, hot one. I’ll make us something to eat. I bet you haven’t eaten anything all day.”