Wound Up(25)
A twinge in his chest had him rubbing his left pec. “Admittedly strange.”
“Okay, then. I have an eighty-hour job-shadowing practicum I have to complete. The college let me walk with my class at graduation, but I still have to get a passing grade on the practicum before I can implement my nefarious psychological practices on unsuspecting victims.” She raised her arms, let her head fall back and loosed an evil cackle before bursting into laughter again. Dropping her arms, she shrugged. “So eighty hours of blah, blah, blah before I officially become a psychologist.”
His chest tightened around the twinge. “Yeah? Are you staying local?”
She nodded. “Personal issues regarding my housing situation meant I had to stay close by.”
“Want to have lunch, then, say, Wednesday? We can meet somewhere midpoint for both of us.” Postcoital meal arrangements might be backward, but it would assuage the guilt needling him for the screw-and-run he’d momentarily considered. This? This he could live with. Barely.
He’d take it.
A faint blush stole across her cheeks. “Lunch? That’d be great.” The words were right, but the hesitation in them wasn’t.
“Are you allergic to lunch?” he asked as casually as he could.
“No.” She rubbed her throat, her free arm wrapping around her torso. “It’s just...you remember I’m leaving right?”
“It’s not a marriage proposal, Grace. It’s just lunch.”
She smiled up at him. “Okay, then. Downtown area would be easiest for me.”
He exhaled slowly. “Excellent.” They weren’t through with each other.
Not by a long shot.
* * *
GRACE WATCHED JUSTIN’S shoulders sag and couldn’t be sure if it was relief or disappointment. The former buoyed her while the latter stung like hell.
It shouldn’t matter. She just had to get through the next two weeks and then she was following Meg to Baltimore where she’d try to find a job. It was as far as Grace could conceivably get from Seattle, her past and her mother.
Still, watching Justin’s reaction was very much like holding on to a life vest in twenty-foot seas. A second to catch your breath before getting driven under again.
He squared his shoulders and crossed the room. “How about Tuesday? I don’t want to wait until Wednesday.” Cupping her face, he leaned in. “Say yes.” The smell of minty toothpaste on his breath combined with the scent of the hotel’s soap and shampoo on his skin to form a clean smell she knew she’d never forget.
“Yes.”
“And dinner with me Wednesday.”
“Yes.” The answer was out of her mouth before she truly considered the implications.
“Good.” He closed the distance and kissed her, lips soft yet firm as he laid claim to her mouth, owning the moment, owning her, in a way that disconcerted her. No one had ever made the effort to get to know her, to see her, to invest in her. Then Justin happened.
It was only supposed to have been one night. Not a date. No expectations. Nothing more. But he’d been so sincere in his interest, so transparent in his desire for her. What woman wouldn’t want to enjoy that for just a bit longer?