Endeared (The Accidental Billionaires #5) - J. S. Scott Page 0,13

if you two could be friends again.”

I wanted to tell her that it would be even nicer if Layla and I could become a hell of a lot more than friends, but I didn’t.

Luckily, I was saved from thinking up some kind of neutral response by my chiming doorbell. “I think she’s here,” I informed Andie. “Don’t worry, and just get here whenever you can. Don’t drive crazy.”

“Okay. I’ll let you go. Hopefully, this freeway will stop looking like a parking lot soon,” she answered, her voice a little less stressed.

Andie and I said a hasty goodbye, and I headed for the door, determined to resolve any issues Layla had with me today, since it might be my only chance.

Our relationship had been strained since the very first day I’d started work at the clinic.

Obviously, my attraction to Layla didn’t go both ways. She’d looked horrified every time I’d suggested grabbing dinner together. I could only imagine how she’d react if she knew I wanted to get her naked.

So yeah, the fact that she didn’t want me the same way I wanted her did bother me more than I wanted to admit, but it wasn’t just lust that drew me to Layla.

Hell, the two of us had a history together that had started long before I’d become infatuated with her during senior year, and that meant something to me.

I didn’t want her to hate me, and I did want to fix whatever had happened in the past.

At some point, I might even get over my hellacious physical attraction to her if we could just hang out as friends again, right?

I opened the door, fully prepared to approach Layla about the possibility of clearing up our past and being friends again.

My resolve lasted all of a couple of seconds.

Once I saw her standing on my doorstep, her curvy body encased in the sexiest damn sundress I’d ever seen, I was speechless as my eyes greedily consumed every inch of creamy skin the garment revealed.

Holy shit! Why in the hell did she have to wear that sexy dress!

I wanted to pull her into the house and nail her hot and hard against the first available surface I could find.

Every thought of being her friend again flew out of my brain, exiting like it had been a ludicrous idea in the first place.

I’d gone from hopeful to fucked in less than five seconds, and I had no idea what to do with that lightning-fast reaction.

“Owen, is everything okay?” Layla asked hesitantly as she removed her sunglasses.

Damn. She was finally calling me Owen, and my body was reacting to the small intimacy like it was the sweetest kind of endearment.

I need to get a grip. Layla is staring at me like I’ve lost my mind.

“Yep. Good. Fine,” I muttered. Damn. Ten years of higher education, and that was the only response I could think of giving her?

Apparently, my intellect had completely left the building when I’d heard my name on her gorgeous lips.

I shook my head, thoroughly disgusted with myself.

I opened the door wider, and then watched as temptation sashayed right on into my house.

CHAPTER 4

LAYLA

“Well, I guess that about covers everything,” I said to Owen in an overly bright voice that I wasn’t feeling as I stepped back inside his home.

I’d spent a lot of time outside arranging, and then rearranging, the tablecloths, napkins, and all of the decorations I’d put up. Honestly, there hadn’t been all that much to keep me occupied, since Owen had hired a caterer for the food. The tables had already been set up for the barbecue, so I’d killed as much time as possible fussing with basically . . . nothing. All so I could avoid spending too much time alone with Owen.

I was having a really hard time finding anything to say to him. I could handle being in a professional atmosphere with him, but it was awkward being outside the office and in his home.

What does he know about my life?

What do I know about what his life is like now?

It was sad that two friends who’d never run out of things to say to each other could be so uncomfortable in each other’s presence now.

“Do you need anything else?” he asked as he poured himself some coffee.

I walked up to the kitchen island as I said, “You still drink a lot of coffee?”

Owen had studied like a madman in high school, and he’d held down a job at a local auto store, too. It