from my bun.
He gave me a questioning look. “Why are you mad at me for telling my honest opinion?”
“I’m not,” I lied, hating that the walls of the elevator were mirrored. No matter where I stood, I couldn’t escape my reflection, and red-faced, sweaty, and stressed was not a sight that filled me with joy. If I wanted Brooks to think he had no effect on me, this look was not going to pass that off.
Brooks finally sank against the wall and slid down to the floor until he was in a sitting position. He stretched one leg out straight in front of him and kept the other one bent to his chest, with his right forearm resting on his bent knee.
“You used to sit like that when we’d meet under the tree . . .” I trailed off, my words bringing me back to a past that I wanted to forget.
He smiled. “You remember our tree?”
I nodded, staring down at him. “You would read for hours there, while I wrote stories and daydreamed about being an author one day.”
His email rejection came to mind, causing me to stop reminiscing about the old days. Also, were the walls closing in a little? This suddenly felt like the Disneyland elevator at the Haunted Mansion and I waited for the wicked voice to start laughing.
Claustrophobic much? Me? Oh, yeah. Definitely.
Brooks reached up and took my hand, tugging on it. “Look, we may be here a while, so you may as well make yourself comfortable.”
“I suppose you’re right.” I settled down beside him and leaned against the wall.
His gaze flicked to mine. “About the book . . .”
My brow furrowed. “Now you can’t deny that it was true to life.”
“Come on, Michelle,” he said, giving me a side-glance. “The writing was good, but the romance aspect was unrealistic.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really? Because elevators don’t break down, right? Yet, here we are. What are the chances?”
He shook his head. “It’s a coincidence. Nothing more.”
I folded my arms. “There are no coincidences.”
He turned to look at me, wearing a mischievous look on his face. “Okay, let’s go with your theory for a minute. If your book is so realistic, then that would make me the hero, right?”
I snorted. “More like the antagonist.”
“And it would make you the heroine, yes?”
I nodded. “I could get behind that part.”
“So, according to the book, right about now . . .” He flicked through my manuscript until he got to the right chapter. “I would be looking deep into your eyes.”
My eyes bulged. “Please don’t do that. You’ll scare me.”
“And as I look into your eyes, I would . . .” His finger ran along some lines on the manuscript page until he tapped the end of a sentence. “I would tell you that I could hear your heart beating.”
My cheeks heated. “I know what it says.”
“But you claim this could actually happen in real life,” he said, pushing his glasses up his nose with his index finger. “The elevator stopped unexpectedly. I’ll give you that. Now it’s my turn to say . . . that my heart is beating just for you.”
My belly did a little flip. “And?”
“I’m demonstrating my point,” he said, folding the manuscript and tapping it against his palm. “Would that line do it for you?”
“Not if you said it,” I said, willing the flutter in my belly to chill out. My gaze dropped to his lips, making me think about our kiss last night. “But if someone heroic said those words to me then yes. I’d think it was incredibly romantic.”
“You would? Huh.” He shot me an incredulous look and then opened the manuscript again. “Okay, then what if I said, ‘I can make your heart beat even faster if you will only give me the opportunity’?”
My heart rate kicked up a little further, but only because he had a soothing voice. Not because I had an interest in him saying those words to me for real. I bit my lower lip, suddenly remembering he used to love me doing that.
As if on cue, he glanced down at my mouth. “And then, I would move in ever so slowly and your eyes would slide down to my lips . . .”
“Hang on,” I protested, putting my hand up. His words sounded hypnotic and it felt like he was putting me into some kind of a trance with his gentle voice and seductive words.
“And then . . . I would do . . .