Unlocking Her Boss's Heart(38)

He cleared his throat. ‘You know, this place is just like the venue where Jemima and I got married,’ he said, so casually she wondered how much emotion he’d had to rein in, in order to say it.

Ugh. What a selfish dolt she was. Here she’d been worrying about what he thought of her and her tales of woe, when he was doing battle with his own demons.

It had occurred to her earlier that morning, as she’d struggled to do up her dress, that attending a wedding could be problematic for him, but she’d forgotten all about it after the incident in the kitchen, her thoughts distracted by the unnerving tension that had crackled between them ever since.

Or what she’d thought was tension.

Perhaps it had been apprehension on his part.

And then, when he’d mentioned how transient and lonely his youth had been over drinks earlier, it had brought it home to her why Jemima’s death had hit him so hard. It sounded as if she’d been the person anchoring his life after years of feeling adrift and insecure. And this place reminded him of everything he’d lost.

No wonder he seemed so unsettled.

He’d still come here to help her out, though, despite his discomfort at being at this kind of event, which was a decent and kind thing for him to do and way beyond the call of duty as her boss. Her heart did a slow flip in her chest as she realised exactly what it must have cost him to agree to come.

‘I’m sorry for dragging you here today. I didn’t think about how hard it would be for you. After losing Jemima.’

He put his hand on her arm and waited for her to look at him before speaking. ‘You have nothing to apologise for. Nothing. I wanted to come here to support you because you’ve done nothing but support me for the last few weeks. It’s my turn to look after you today.’ He was looking directly at her now and the fierce intensity in his eyes made a delicious shiver zip down her spine.

‘Honestly, I thought it would be awful coming here,’ he said, casting his gaze back towards the house again, ‘but it’s not been the trial I thought it’d be. In fact—’ he ran a hand over his hair and let out a low breath ‘—it’s been good for me to confront a situation like this. I’ve been missing out on so much life since Jem died and it’s time I pulled my head out of the sand and faced the world again.’

Cara swallowed hard, ensnared in the emotion of the moment, her heart thudding against her chest and her breath rasping in her dry throat. Looking at Max now, she realised that the ever-present frown was nowhere to be seen for once. Instead, there was light in his eyes and something else...

They stood, frozen in the moment, as the gentle spring wind wrapped around them and the birds sang enthusiastically above their heads.

It would be so easy to push up onto tiptoe and slide her hands around his neck. To press her lips against his and feel the heat and masculine strength of him, to slide her tongue into his mouth and taste him. She ached to feel his breath against her skin and his hands in her hair, her whole body tingling with the sensory expectation of it.

She wanted to be the one to remind him what living could be like, if only he’d let her.

To her disappointment, Max broke eye contact with her and nodded towards the marquee behind them. ‘We should probably get back before they send out a search party. We don’t want to find ourselves in trouble for messing with Amber’s schedule of events and being frogmarched to our seats,’ he said lightly, though his voice sounded gruffer than normal.

Had he seen it in her face? The longing. She hoped not. The thought of her infatuation putting their fragile relationship under any more strain made her insides squirm.

Anyway, that tension-filled moment had probably been him thinking about Jemima again.

Not her.

They walked in silence back to the marquee, the bright sun pleasantly warm on the back of her neck and bare shoulders, but her insides icy cold.

Despite their little detour, they weren’t the last to sit down. It was with a sigh of relief that Cara slumped into her seat and reached for the bottle of white wine on the table, more than ready to blot out the ache of disappointment that had been present ever since he’d suggested they give up their truancy from the festivities and head back into the fray.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be here exactly; it was just that it had been so much fun hanging out with him. Just the two of them together, like friends. Or something.

Knocking back half a glass of wine in one go, she refilled it before offering the bottle to Max.

He was looking at her with bemusement, one eyebrow raised. ‘Thirsty?’

Heat flared across her cheeks. ‘Just getting in the party mood,’ she said, forcing a nonchalant smile. ‘It looks like we have some catching up to do.’