dark-haired hunk? “I’m a little lonely now, too, as a matter of fact.”
He smiled, revealing the deep crease of a dimple in one cheek. “This might be my lucky day.” Then his eyes shifted over her shoulder. A glint of humor kindled in them. “Or not.”
Addy turned—and took a quick step back, almost stumbling. “You.”
“Hi,” Baxter said.
As usual, he looked as if he’d come straight from a hard day at the office. His tie was loosened, his shirt’s collar unbuttoned. Its cuffs were folded back to reveal his strong wrists, the left one banded with a steel watch.
The wind tugged at the cuffs of his trousers, but didn’t dare ruffle his golden hair. The sun burnished the perfectly cropped layers, though, making him seem to glow. Addy swallowed, trying to appear unaffected, even as the memory of a naughty boss-secretary dream she’d been having lately bloomed in her mind. Miss March, I found four typos in this memo...
“Uh, hi,” she said, cursing the blush creeping over her face.
He frowned. “What’s going on?”
Addy crossed her arms over her chest. I’m preparing for an exorcism. It was imperative. She was certain of that now because it wasn’t healthy for a woman to go weak-kneed when some man arrived out of the blue. Some man who’d said, “That leaves the present wide-open,” but who’d then ignored her for several days thereafter, only showing up in her subconscious at night.
Miss March, come into my office and close the door.
“Addy?”
“Nothing’s going on,” she said, then slid a glance in Teague’s direction. “Just making a new friend.”
Baxter’s blue eyes narrowed. “Is that right?”
The dark-haired man held out his hand, his expression still good-humored. “Teague White,” he said. “I’m a nice guy, honest. Skye can vouch for me.”
“He’s a firefighter,” Skye added. “Can’t get more wholesome than that.”
A firefighter? Addy sneaked a second look at the man. Wholesome wasn’t the first word that came to mind, especially when the firefighter in question was absolutely hot and incredibly handsome. Maybe the exorcism thing could really work.
Baxter was frowning as if wholesome didn’t ring true to him, either.
He shook the other man’s hand, then glanced at Addy. “Look, can we go—”
“I was just about to ask her to have a drink with me at Captain Crow’s,” Teague put in.
Baxter didn’t look away from her face. “She can’t,” he answered flatly. “We have plans.”
The liar. “What plans?”
He stepped into her, so close his loafers were an inch from the toenails she’d painted a bright melon as a pick-me-up when he hadn’t called or stopped by. How silly she’d been to believe he might. She’d been smart enough to have no expectations of him before and she shouldn’t be harboring any now.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch.” The back of Baxter’s hand slid along her cheek. “I had to take an emergency business trip.”
The caress sent a line of fire running from her face, down her throat, between her breasts. Addy couldn’t breathe. “I don’t... You don’t...” She had no idea what words were coming out of her mouth.
Damn the man! He scrambled her brain, garbled her good intentions, messed with her mind with just a look from his blue eyes.
His hand slid from her face to the back of her neck. His palm covered the tender skin there, more fire racing along her scalp and down her back. Panic added to the heat in her blood. She couldn’t want him like this.
In childhood, she’d had her defenses—coping mechanisms to smother her feelings or escape her surroundings. She’d worked hard to eradicate the unhealthiest of them, but now she found herself still vulnerable. Baxter—wanting Baxter—could take her back, take her down, making her that weak girl again who lived in her fantasies instead of living her life.
He leaned close, his voice for her ears only. “I’ve thought of you.” The thumb of the hand that was curved around her nape stroked the edge of her jaw, just under her ear.
Oh, God. She shouldn’t listen. He had the power to make her yearn. After a childhood of pining for things she couldn’t have or couldn’t make right, she knew better than to let herself long for Golden Boy Baxter. Six years ago, despite how breathtaking the experience, despite the things he’d said afterward, she’d never let it become more than a blissful night of wish fulfillment.
She’d never expected there to be more.
The Addy Marches of the world never got to have a Baxter Smith. Not really.