again.”
Okay, so how was she supposed to reply to
that
?
Gosh, I’m sorry I destroyed a part of your childhood? That I never had a childhood?
She’d had people tell her they loved her before—had it shouted at her on sidewalks. Love letters that came through her agent—he forwarded them to her with the quarterly royalty checks. And she’d had more than a few people tell her how disappointed they were that she wasn’t a proper role model, that she wasn’t really a squeaky-clean rock star.
That she wasn’t what they wanted her to be.
“You weren’t— Last night...you weren’t mad at me?”
He chuckled. It was not a happy sound. “No. I was mad at myself.”
Why hadn’t she seen it earlier? He’d had a crush on her. He might have even fancied himself in love with her.
No, not with her. With Whitney Wildz.
“But
you
kissed
me
.”
True, it hadn’t been a let’s-get-naked kind of kiss, but that didn’t change the basic facts. He’d told her she was beautiful at several important points throughout the day, gone out of his way to reassure her, listened to her talk about her pets and...kissed her anyway.
He scrubbed a hand through his hair, then took an exit off the highway. It was several minutes before he spoke. “I did.” He said it as though he still didn’t believe it. “My apologies.”
“You’re apologizing? For the kiss? Was it that bad?”
Yeah, he’d sort of taken her by surprise—she’d been in a state of shock about her face—but that wasn’t going to be
it
, was it? One strike and she was out of luck?
“You didn’t kiss me back.”
“Because I didn’t know who you thought you were kissing.” Point of fact, despite all the illuminating personal details he’d just revealed, she
still
didn’t know who he’d thought he was kissing.
“You,” he said simply. “I was kissing you.”
She opened her mouth to ask,
Who?
This was not the time for ambiguous personal pronouns. This was the time for clarity, by God. Because if he still thought he was kissing a rock star or an actress, she couldn’t kiss him back. She just couldn’t.
But if he was kissing a klutz who rescued puppies...
She didn’t get the chance to ask for that vital clarification, because suddenly they were at the guard gate for Beaumont Farms. “Mr. Beaumont, Ms. Maddox,” the guard said, waving them through.
Matthew took the road back to the house at what felt like a reckless speed. They whipped around corners so fast she had to hold on to the door handle. Then they were screeching to a halt in front of Phillip and Jo’s house. The place was dark.
Whitney’s head was spinning from more than just his driving. She couldn’t look at him, so she stared at the empty-looking house. “Who am I? Who am I to you?”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his hands flex around the steering wheel. After today she wouldn’t be surprised if he’d permanently bent it out of shape, what with all the white-knuckle gripping he’d been doing.
He didn’t answer the question. Instead, he said, “Can I walk you inside?”
“All right.”
They got out of the car. Matthew opened the door to the house for her and then stood to the side so she could enter first. She had to stop—it was dark and she didn’t know where the light switches were located.
“Here.” Matthew’s voice was close to her ear as he reached around her. She stepped back—back into the wall.
He flipped the light on but he didn’t move away from her. Instead, he stood there, staring down at her with something that looked a heck of a lot like hunger.
What did people do in this situation?
To hell with what other people did. What did
she
want to do?
She still wanted the same thing she’d wanted when she’d shown up here—a little Christmas fling to dip her toes back into the water of dating and relationships. She still wanted to feel sexy and pretty and, yes, graceful.
But the way that Matthew was looking down at her...there was
Okay, so how was she supposed to reply to
that
?
Gosh, I’m sorry I destroyed a part of your childhood? That I never had a childhood?
She’d had people tell her they loved her before—had it shouted at her on sidewalks. Love letters that came through her agent—he forwarded them to her with the quarterly royalty checks. And she’d had more than a few people tell her how disappointed they were that she wasn’t a proper role model, that she wasn’t really a squeaky-clean rock star.
That she wasn’t what they wanted her to be.
“You weren’t— Last night...you weren’t mad at me?”
He chuckled. It was not a happy sound. “No. I was mad at myself.”
Why hadn’t she seen it earlier? He’d had a crush on her. He might have even fancied himself in love with her.
No, not with her. With Whitney Wildz.
“But
you
kissed
me
.”
True, it hadn’t been a let’s-get-naked kind of kiss, but that didn’t change the basic facts. He’d told her she was beautiful at several important points throughout the day, gone out of his way to reassure her, listened to her talk about her pets and...kissed her anyway.
He scrubbed a hand through his hair, then took an exit off the highway. It was several minutes before he spoke. “I did.” He said it as though he still didn’t believe it. “My apologies.”
“You’re apologizing? For the kiss? Was it that bad?”
Yeah, he’d sort of taken her by surprise—she’d been in a state of shock about her face—but that wasn’t going to be
it
, was it? One strike and she was out of luck?
“You didn’t kiss me back.”
“Because I didn’t know who you thought you were kissing.” Point of fact, despite all the illuminating personal details he’d just revealed, she
still
didn’t know who he’d thought he was kissing.
“You,” he said simply. “I was kissing you.”
She opened her mouth to ask,
Who?
This was not the time for ambiguous personal pronouns. This was the time for clarity, by God. Because if he still thought he was kissing a rock star or an actress, she couldn’t kiss him back. She just couldn’t.
But if he was kissing a klutz who rescued puppies...
She didn’t get the chance to ask for that vital clarification, because suddenly they were at the guard gate for Beaumont Farms. “Mr. Beaumont, Ms. Maddox,” the guard said, waving them through.
Matthew took the road back to the house at what felt like a reckless speed. They whipped around corners so fast she had to hold on to the door handle. Then they were screeching to a halt in front of Phillip and Jo’s house. The place was dark.
Whitney’s head was spinning from more than just his driving. She couldn’t look at him, so she stared at the empty-looking house. “Who am I? Who am I to you?”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his hands flex around the steering wheel. After today she wouldn’t be surprised if he’d permanently bent it out of shape, what with all the white-knuckle gripping he’d been doing.
He didn’t answer the question. Instead, he said, “Can I walk you inside?”
“All right.”
They got out of the car. Matthew opened the door to the house for her and then stood to the side so she could enter first. She had to stop—it was dark and she didn’t know where the light switches were located.
“Here.” Matthew’s voice was close to her ear as he reached around her. She stepped back—back into the wall.
He flipped the light on but he didn’t move away from her. Instead, he stood there, staring down at her with something that looked a heck of a lot like hunger.
What did people do in this situation?
To hell with what other people did. What did
she
want to do?
She still wanted the same thing she’d wanted when she’d shown up here—a little Christmas fling to dip her toes back into the water of dating and relationships. She still wanted to feel sexy and pretty and, yes, graceful.
But the way that Matthew was looking down at her...there was
Similar Books
