dinner tonight. It was nice.” If nice meant the best night she’d had in a very long time.
“You’re welcome. And yes, it was. Very nice.”
Yes, very. Sparks stirred low in her belly as she considered pressing onto her toes and planting a kiss to his lips. Her gaze landed on his mouth briefly, causing the sparks to ignite.
Sparks that frightened her as much as they thrilled her. Her eyelids got heavy as she felt herself leaning closer, almost as if she’d been summoned. But a voice in the back of her mind snapped her out of the spell. His jacket. He’s probably waiting for it.
She blinked, straightened back up, and blurted the first word that came to her mind. “Goodnight.”
Justine’s face flushed with heat as she realized how sudden and awkward it sounded. Already she was shrugging out of his suit coat and handing it over. Then, before she could stop herself, she rushed in for a hug, giving his bicep a squeeze as she leaned in.
“See you tomorrow,” he said as she pulled away, his warm breath tickling her forehead.
“Okay. Bye.” Justine spun to grab hold of the doorknob and gave it a quick twist. The room was full of the furniture she’d refinished for the festival, which made her quick exit—err, entrance—clumsier than she’d hoped, but soon Justine had cleared the doorway enough to close the door behind her. Smooth, Justine.
She glanced over the sea of desks, rocking chairs, and barstools, listening to the sound of Burke’s footsteps.
Sheesh. Their moment on the roof had been so natural and easy. Why couldn’t their goodbye have gone off the same way?
The sound of his car door closing was distant; the hum of the engine was too. Justine rested her back against the door, exhaling as the headlight’s beam moved from one side of the room to the next, then disappeared completely, leaving her in the lamp light’s glow.
“Wow,” she said in whisper. Burke. Handsome Burke from Manhattan who was moving to California to connect with his only surviving family. Handsome Burke who helped bury the cat, buy her dinner, and offer to play her fake fiancé tomorrow night. Actually, he’d offered to play that role throughout the festival too.
Justine pulled away from the front door, weaved through the crowded maze of ready-to-sell furniture, and wandered into the kitchen. Tea. Tea would help her unwind. She was quick to fill the kettle, flick on the heat, and snatch a mug from the cupboard. She opted for chamomile, dropped the bag into her mug, then darted into her room to change.
She’d worn it, Justine realized as she reached far behind her to pin the small zipper between her finger and her thumb. She’d actually worn the cocktail dress. And she’d loved it.
She slipped into a pair of PJ shorts and a matching camisole as her tea steeped. If the furniture wasn’t in the way, she’d take her tea to lounge beside the fireplace. As it was, she’d have to settle for the dining room table. She set her eyes on the hot drink as she poured in some fresh cream, enjoying the way the liquid changed from translucent to opaque.
Once seated at the table, Justine pulled over the chair beside her to put her feet up. There. She could relax with her thoughts at last. She inhaled the herb-infused scent of the steaming tea while cupping it in her palms.
She’d get to see him again. That thought was at the forefront of her mind as Justine slowly emptied her mug, sip by sip. It stayed with her as she brushed her teeth and climbed into bed too. Tomorrow she had a fake date with her fake fiancé and she could hardly wait.
She must have been overly tired because before Justine knew it, she was in the depths of a dream. A wonderful dream where Burke cupped her elbows with his heated hands, tickled her forehead with his hot breath, then trailed his lips down the length of her throat in an achingly slow tease.
“Burke.” Justine hadn’t meant to say it aloud, but she had. In fact, she’d mumbled it loudly enough to wake herself up completely. She forced her eyes to shut once more, focusing on the blissful sensation of his heated lips on her skin. Come on, go back to sleep, Justine.
Hopefully the dream would pick up again. She tried for what felt like hours, failing to fall back to sleep at all let alone revisit the pleasant dream. It wasn’t