Unguarded

“That’s quite a sacrifice you’re making there.”

“It’ll be tough, but someone’s got to do it.”

“I just bet.” Rhiannon leaned back against the bar, more relaxed than he had ever seen her. It made his blood boil and his erection throb and he was seized by a nearly overwhelming urge to kiss her. But he hadn’t come this far to blow it when he was so close to the prize.

For Rhiannon was a double-edged sword, one that required a very careful balancing act. Normally that would be enough to make him run in the other direction—after Cynthia had killed herself, he’d made a point of sliding through life with a wink and a smile, steering clear of any major complications or entanglements.

But this was different, this energy that pulsed between Rhiannon and him whenever they got too close. It was sweet yet exciting, sexy yet comfortable—as much a mystery and a contradiction as Rhiannon was herself. Even knowing that she was a risk—that he might very well end up on his ass six weeks from now, watching as she zoomed off into her own sunset—couldn’t keep him from wanting her.

“So, I suppose you want to watch these movies with me?”

“Well, since you asked so nicely…”

“I appreciate the gift—I really do. It was incredibly thoughtful. But…” She paused and he waited for the brush-off he could tell was coming. It upset him, because he knew, deep down, that they could be good together. But she had to know it, too, or at least suspect it. Otherwise, it didn’t do him any good to stand around mooning over her.

“You know it can only be business between us, Shawn.”

And there it was, the line he’d been waiting for. “Why?”

“Because you’re a client, one whose event is going to bring in big word of mouth for my firm. I can’t afford to get tangled up with you.”

“Okay.” He shrugged. “You’re fired, then. Problem solved.”

Her eyes widened. “The problem is definitely not solved. I can’t afford to let you fire me. My boss would kill me.”

“Well, then, what do you suggest we do? Because I’m not willing to just forget being with you, talking to you, simply because I hired your firm to do my party.”

“It’s a conflict of—”

“Don’t give me that tired old line about conflicts of interest.” He moved closer to her, crowded her just a little bit even as he told himself it was the wrong move.

But he couldn’t help it. He wanted to be near her, wanted to feel the silky soft brush of her skin against his again. Wanted to smell her sweet honeysuckle scent. He didn’t touch her—he still had enough control not to do that—but he couldn’t make himself take that step back, no matter how much he knew he should.

“Because if you feed me that line, it means one of two things. Either you’re not interested in me and you’re looking for a convenient excuse to step back gracefully, or you are interested and I should just eliminate the conflict so that we can move forward.” He took a deep breath, inhaled her into his lungs. “So which one is it, Rhiannon? Do you want to go on a third date with me or don’t you?”