The Scandal (Billionaire's Beach Book 4) - Christie Ridgway Page 0,31
Any resistance she might have to accepting the gift melted as he drew out the book she’d coveted. “Oh.” Dreaming Outside: California Landscapes.
He placed it in her hands and took over the guidance of the shopping cart. “You wanted it, right?”
But she knew it would be beyond her budget, no matter how gorgeous. “I can pay you back,” she offered anyway.
“Nonsense. I need to make amends for that little fall into the Pacific.” They continued past the shop, and he tossed her another devastating smile. “Forgive me?”
But before she could answer, she saw his attention divert to another narrow storefront. The newsstand that had been darkened before—a scrawled sign taped to the front door saying the owner had briefly stepped away—was well-lit now, the periodicals of all sorts arranged in tall shelves that filled the small space. The colorful and lurid gossip rags were front and center and facing the window, a dozen of them screaming about other people’s private lives.
Panic sucked the air from her lungs.
Why was Joaquin staring at them? Would he go inside next and page through each publication? Find a story that painted her in an ugly light?
A dizzying heat flashed over her face and chest, and all she could think was how to divert him. As he took a step closer to the store, she caught his arm.
He glanced around, brows coming together. “Sara?”
“You didn’t let me thank you,” she said, rising on tiptoe and running her hands up his chest to circle his neck. “Properly.”
The kiss was meant to sidetrack. Just a peck.
But as her lips met his, another flare of heat burst over her skin and an electric awareness charged every nerve ending. Her head spun, and one of his arms wrapped around her waist as if he knew her knees had gone weak. Yet the kiss wasn’t lascivious, but instead soft and near-innocent, and it shook her more than their other, more lusty exchanges. Their mouths continued to cling like cautious lovers, tender and restrained, and somehow the sweetness of it made her want to weep.
Then, as if by a tacit signal, they eased away from each other.
His eyes trained on her face, he hauled in a long breath. “Well, that packed an unexpected punch,” he said, looking slightly disgruntled by the thought.
Sara could only nod. It was as if the blow had tilted her world and torn the veil from her eyes. The blame for all her out-of-character behavior couldn’t be laid at Joaquin’s door, she knew that now. What was happening between them was something they managed to conjure up together. And from the expression on his face, he felt as wary of the effect they had on each other as she.
I think we make a good team.
Joaquin likely wouldn’t say so now.
His hands slid off her shoulders to reach for the cart. As he pushed it in the direction of the car, he sent her a glance. “We need to sit down together. We’ll have a serious talk about this.”
“Okay.”
That actually sounded promising, she decided, almost skipping to keep up with his long strides. A man as experienced and sophisticated as Joaquin would have run into this kind of…of combustion before. He’d know how to neutralize the fire, the conflagration as well as those more dangerous, gentler flames.
But it wasn’t the sexual heat that she found so frightening. It was the way her knees melted and her safeguards yielded so easily. It was the tenderness that had found its way into her heart in a public shopping center with ice cream melting in the cartons and gallons of milk going bad.
Still, she thought, determined to be optimistic, there has to be a simple solution.
The hopes of which he dashed with his next words. “But I’m not sure, Sara, that we can find our way off this train.”
Chapter 6
Joaquin stared at the sun setting over the ocean and told himself a case of hard-dickitis was nothing to get all worked up about.
Nothing special.
Turning his head, he peered through the open glass doors to the house and watched the butler move about the kitchen. She did fascinate him for some reason. It could be the tidy way she folded a dish towel. Or maybe it was the instinctive manner in which she anticipated the household’s needs. A fresh glass of lemonade at Lulu’s elbow. A plate with half a sandwich and some apple slices—though dinner had ended no more than an hour before—now set in front of RJ.