Sure Thing(33)

I like the way Jennings keeps an eye on his nan and makes sure she’s got everything she needs. How he always exits the bus ahead of her so he can hold her arm as she takes the last step from the bus to the pavement.

I like the way he watches me when I’m fumbling through this tour, a look of curiosity on his face as if I’m more interesting than I actually am.

I also like the way he looks at me when we’re having sex. The way his eyes stay on mine when he thrusts into me. The way he cups my chin and moves my gaze back to his when I’ve turned my head away. How he touches me and—enough. It’s the best sex I’ve ever had. I know it’s cliché and semi-dramatic, but it’s that good. And maybe twice doesn’t exactly equal a case study, but it’s enough of a sample to make a pretty good argument in his favor. Dammit, why does it have to be so good? It’s making me feel things, things I have no business feeling.

So what if I like him? It’s not a big deal. It’s just a week. My perfect one-night stand turned into the perfect one-week fling. It’s what I wanted, isn’t it? A no-strings-attached liaison to help me get back in the game. A rebound relationship, so to speak. One I should have had six months ago to get my ex out of my system. Because it totally worked. Maybe it’s the time that’s passed or maybe it’s Jennings, but I can honestly say I’ve moved on. I feel hopeful. I feel glad—well, almost—that my last company went under because it forced me to face that neither my job or my relationship were a good fit. I couldn’t see it for myself so fate stepped in and forced me to.

Just like fate is going to force this thing I have with Jennings to an end when the tour ends. So I like him. So what? There’s no crime in liking your temporary lover. When I remember this week it will be filled with happy memories. Torrid, scandalous memories. Sinful, dirty recollections of brown eyes, perfect abs and sly smiles that wet my panties and restored my confidence.

No big deal.

The bus pulls onto the Mount Vernon grounds, so I snap myself out of my lewd musings and focus on recalling how Daisy handled this part of the tour. The group is taking the premium mansion tour, which is led by someone who is not me, thank goodness. I’ve just got to run into the tour office and coordinate handing the group off.

Twenty minutes later I’ve instructed the group where the meeting point is once their guided tour is over, with free time added in order for them to explore the grounds on their own. Then I sigh the happiest sigh of relief as I watch the group depart without me, Jennings along with them. I’ve got three hours of freedom. Three hours in which I won’t accidentally tell Jennings too much. Three hours in which I won’t be swayed by his accent, by his brown eyes, by the way he draws me into telling him too much.

He’s just a fun distraction—and that’s great. But a week from now he’ll be gone so I need to keep it together. I don’t need to fall for him. And I don’t need to blow my sister’s job and lose this week’s paycheck because of my big mouth.

What I need to do is focus on the future. On finding a new job, a new place to live. On getting my life back on track. Not on falling for someone I can’t be with. Not to mention—he’s not even my type. I go for goal-oriented men. Suits. Mr. Casual Concert T-shirt is so not my type.





CHAPTER SEVENTEEN


Jennings

 “What exactly do you need to know and why can’t you ask her yourself?”

I’ve put in a call to my cousin Rhys. My American cousin, younger by two years. His mother is my father’s sister. She grew up in England but left when she fell for a foreign exchange student during university—and followed him home. All the way home to Connecticut. Somehow Rhys and I have always been close despite growing up on different continents. It helped that once we were old enough we spent summers together, alternating between the US and the UK each year. Looking back I suspect our parents made this deal to buy themselves a kid-free summer every other year, but the end result is that it made Rhys and I thick as thieves.

“It’s complicated,” I reply and it makes me smile. I sound like Daisy with her evasive excuses.

“What do you mean it’s complicated? Didn’t you introduce yourself? We don’t Undercover Boss the employees, Jennings. That’s policy. Senior-level employees introduce themselves whether they’re traveling on company or personal business. We don’t hoodwink the employees.”

“Hoodwink? Really, Rhys?”

“It’s a word, asshole. Stop avoiding the question.”

“I would’ve,” I tell him, “but I’d already met her. The night prior. And then things got… complicated.” There’s that word again.