sliding one of her heels on when J.D. walked over, grabbed her hand, and pulled her away from the door.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he said firmly. He led her out onto the balcony. “If you need to cool off, you can do it out here.”
“It’s eighty-two degrees out here. Jerk. Ninety with the heat index.”
“Well, then, the fresh air will do you some good.” He shut the balcony door behind him and blocked her way.
Payton folded her arms across her chest and waited.
J.D. sighed. “Look—Payton—I understand that you’re angry with me, and for once I understand why. I would, however, like to point out that you aren’t entirely innocent in all this—you’ve lobbed more than your fair share of insults at me over the years, but notwithstanding that fact . . .” He ran his hand through his hair, then held his hands up. “What can I say? I fucked up. I’m sorry. Really sorry.”
Payton softened a little at his directness. She knew how hard it was for him to apologize, especially to her. And he was right—regardless of how it started, once their fighting had begun she’d hardly been an innocent bystander.
“It’s just that . . .” she bit her lip nervously. “I liked you from the start, J.D. I really wish things had been different, that’s all.”
J.D. stared her straight in the eyes. “You have no idea how much I wish that, too, Payton.”
He looked so serious right then that it was impossible for her to stay mad at him. Plus he was still in his boxers and that was becoming a definite distraction. With a smile of acquiescence, Payton pointed. “Are you planning on blocking that door all night?”
J.D. relinquished his post at the sliding door and joined her at the balcony rail. “Not if you promise that you’re not going to leave.” He slid his arms around her.
“I’m not going to leave,” she said, leaning back against his chest.
They watched the waves crash against the beach, and Payton laced her fingers through J.D.’s. “You know, I think that was the fastest, most rational way we’ve ever resolved a fight. We’re so much better here.”
“It’s because we’re away from the office,” J.D. said. He sounded firmly convinced about that.
Payton closed her eyes. “The office . . . don’t remind me.” She hadn’t thought about the partnership competition between them for the past several hours and wanted to keep it that way.
J.D. spoke softly near her ear. “I’ve been thinking—tomorrow is Saturday. Why don’t we spend an extra night here? Frankly, if one of us doesn’t go into the office tomorrow, then the other one doesn’t have to, either.”
Payton turned around to face him. “Stay here together?”
J.D. shrugged. Nonchalance or feigned nonchalance? It was hard to say.
“I figured you could move your things into my room in the morning,” he said casually.
Payton thought for a moment. Or rather, she pretended to think for a moment. She shrugged as well. “Sure. Why not? I like it here.”
“Fine. That’s settled then,” he nodded.
“Fine.”
“Good.”
“Okay.”
Payton held up her finger. “But I pay for half of the room.”
J.D. grinned. “You know what, Payton—you go right ahead. At fifteen hundred bucks a night, you won’t get any argument from me.”
Her eyes widened in shock. “Good god—that’s how much you’re paying?” She paused. “Hmm.”
“Hmm, what?”
“Hmm, since the room costs that much, it’s a good thing I didn’t plan to do much sleeping.”
J.D. laughed and pulled her close. “I really, really like . . . the way you think.”
Payton smiled. She suspected there might have been a little slip and cover-up there. And the truth of the matter was, she really, really liked . . . the way he thought, too.
So she took the hand J.D. held out to her and followed him inside.
Twenty-three
THEY SLEPT IN the next morning.
Payton couldn’t remember the last time she had slept past seven—she woke up with a start sometime after eight and nearly panicked when she saw the alarm clock on the nightstand. But then she saw J.D. sleeping next to her.
He stirred—he’d had his arm wrapped around her and she had thrown it off when she sat up after seeing the clock. Payton quickly nestled back in, hoping not to wake him. She wanted him to sleep. He needed the sleep—hell, they both did. And not just because it had been a very late night—although that probably didn’t help—not that she was complaining one bit—but more because they’d both been through an exhausting couple of weeks.