Fearless by Brynley Bush Page A

colorful.”
    I nod. I long for the comfortable familiarity between us last Sunday when we sat together on his sofa eating breakfast together. Now there’s an unspoken tension, and I feel self-conscious around him. My body, however, hasn’t gotten the memo. The reality of him, impossibly gorgeous and equally imposing, is setting every nerve on high alert.
    I choose a bottle of red wine from my small wine rack, conscious of his eyes on my jean clad bottom as I bend over and grab two wine glasses from a glass faced cabinet. Opening a drawer in the island, I pull out a corkscrew and expertly remove the cork. I’m so intent on the job that I don’t notice Beckett come up behind me until his strong arms are banded around my waist, drawing me back against his chest. My heart thumps at the heat and hardness of his chest against my back, the strength of his grip around my waist.
    â€œYou’re pretty handy at that,” he observes.
    â€œYou’d be surprised at the things a girl learns to take care of herself when she has to,” I say lightly.
    â€œI don’t like the idea of you taking care of some things yourself,” he says deliberately, his voice low and even.
    â€œNot that!” I blurt out, equally embarrassed and outraged.
    â€œNo?”
    â€œNo!”
    â€œNever?” he presses.
    â€œNot that it’s any of your business, but no, not usually,” I say. Embarrassment has definitely won out, and I’m glad my back is to him so he can’t see me blush.
    â€œYou please me Emmaline,” he says huskily, releasing me.
    Turning, I hand him a glass of wine, his approval inexplicably unleashing another fluttering of butterflies in my stomach.
    He leans against the farmhouse table in my kitchen, arms crossed and completely at ease, watching me as I take the lasagna out of the oven and toss the salad. As I’m easing squares of lasagna onto two brightly colored plates, I sneak a glance at him from beneath my lashes.
    â€œWhy are you staring at me?” I ask, exasperated.
    â€œI like the view,” he says mildly.
    Oh! The butterfly wings start beating faster. To him I say, “Well, stop! It’s making me nervous.”
    â€œGood,” he says placidly. “I like keeping you off balance.”
    â€œWell, you must be thrilled then,” I say sarcastically, my body brushing his as I lean past him to put the plates on the table. “I’ve been off balance since I’ve met you.”
    He totally takes advantage of my position to run his hand over my butt and then gives it a light smack.
    â€œWatch it,” he says.
    Since he doesn’t smile as he says it, I can’t tell if he’s serious or playing, especially given the things I’ve read about domination and submission. I’m going to need a lot more wine to have this conversation so I ignore him, sliding into the chair opposite from him.
    â€œSit down,” I say, gesturing to the chair.
    He sits, and the knowing look he gives me makes me think he knows exactly how off balance I am, and is enjoying it immensely.
    â€œTell me about the benefit tomorrow night,” I say, taking a sip of wine.
    â€œIt’s a gala to benefit the American Cancer Society. I would have been invited anyway because of my work on behalf of prostate cancer, but my dad’s prominence as one of the most influential cancer researchers means our entire family is pretty much obligated to attend. This year, Dad is also the key-note speaker.”
    â€œYour dad will be there?” I ask, pleased. It will be interesting to see the sweet old man in his element.
    â€œYes, and my brother Griffin too. Drake would be there if he could, but he’s out of the country right now.”
    â€œI get to meet your brother?” My excitement and relief at the thought of Dr. Black being there is offset by nervousness about meeting Beckett’s brother.
    â€œYou do. He’s usually off