The Bachelor Contract(25)
“Be careful, Nik.”
“Huh?”
“Wouldn’t want you…getting heat stroke.”
“In my massage room?”
“Yeah, you could get hurt.” He swore and then leaned in until his face was inches from her. It took everything not to step back. “You’re booked until the cocktail party. Consider that our date.”
“How exciting,” she said in a sarcastic voice. “A date on company grounds. You better watch it—you’re going to totally sweep me off my feet.” She batted her eyelashes.
“Oh, trust me.” He tilted her chin toward him. “I’d rock your world—but something tells me I’m not going to get that chance.”
He walked off.
And she returned to the room completely shaken.
“Sorry,” she said and then felt like an idiot. “I mean, sorry, ugh, why do I keep saying sorry when you can’t even hear me?”
“Who says I can’t hear you?”
The man’s deep voice shocked her so much, she knocked over a small lamp, blanketing them in complete darkness. That voice. She’d heard that voice before.
It haunted her dreams.
But that was impossible. Right?
Damn it. Tears burned her eyes. Would the memory of Brant poison everything? Even what was supposed to be a fun, albeit illegal kiss?
He moved.
She could feel him.
But without light, she was lost in the dark—and a bit terrified, if she were being honest with herself. And a whole lot of disappointed that even now, even when she wanted this man—she wanted Brant more. Still.
“I thought you were deaf.” She felt around for her stick and met something more muscular, bigger, definitely not a stick.
Leg. A man’s leg. His leg.
Her hands inched up to a knee. It was a really nice knee.
Solid. Hard.
Chapter Eleven
Brant’s hand shot out so fast he nearly fell off the table. “What the hell?”
Nikki didn’t say anything at first.
Instead, she slammed her hands against both of his cheeks and very slowly ran her thumbs down his face until they came into contact with his bottom lip and froze. “B-Brant?”
He couldn’t find his voice. Shaking, he very slowly grabbed her hands and pulled them away from his face.
“Are you really deaf?” she asked out loud. “Cole said your wife—”
That did it. He burst out laughing. “My wife?”
“Oh.” Her voice sounded broken—sad.
“‘Oh,’ what?”
“I just—Cole said you were deaf.”
“Interesting, since he told me you were mute.”
She glared at him. “No, just blind.”
How was she standing there? After what the hell just happened? After the kissing? Touching?
The accident.
His body jerked.
Fuck.
The last time they saw each other there were so many tears, the yelling, the pain of his heart being ripped in two.
“No wife,” he said harshly. “Just a steady stream of willing women.”
Pain flashed across her face before she gulped and stared down at her hands. “If you lie down, I can finish your massage.”
“No.” The word was clipped, angry. “Did you know about this? About me coming here?” He needed something to blame, someone to take the blame so it wouldn’t be on his shoulders, so he could deal with the violent hurricane of emotions stirring in him.
“What?” She took a cautious step back. “How would I know? Are you so arrogant that you think I spend every free minute I have stalking you?” Her eyes were guilty. “Besides, it’s because of you that I’m still here. I haven’t eaten since one and—”
“—you could have said no.”
“It’s extra money.”
“Funny, I seem to remember sending you money only to have it sent back.” Besides, it wasn’t like she didn’t get a shit-ton of his money after the divorce. She could own the hotel if she wanted to.
“Look.” Her hands started to shake as she wrung them together. “If you just lie down I can finish the rest of the massage.”
“Fine,” Brant snapped. He tried to focus on the anger, the hurt, the betrayal, but it was like his brain had shut down the minute her hands touched him.
Story of his life.
“What are you doing here?” She moved her hands down his left arm, pausing only slightly when she got to his ring finger; was it his imagination or was she shaking? “Weekend vacation?”
“I’m your new boss.”
She dropped his hand onto the table.
He leaned up on his elbow and drank in the sight of her stunned expression. “Just how many times did you cup my ass? Twice? Three times? And that kiss…I may have to write you up again.”