breasts were rising and falling with each labored breath she pulled into her lungs.
With her shirt hanging open to reveal her perfect breasts encased in skimpy lace, she looked like his wildest fantasies come to life.
Her gaze still looked dazed and unfocused, proof that she didn’t yet comprehend what he was saying.
“I was afraid of this,” he admitted. “I knew the chemistry between us was palpable. I didn’t want to come on too strong. To ruin our working relationship.”
“Oh.” She seemed to realize suddenly that her shirt was still unbuttoned. Her fingers went to work fumbling on the problem, but her breath still came in rough drags and her normally quick mind seemed to be working at half speed, which was still faster than his tequila-addled one.
He was lucky he’d been able to stop at all.
He crossed back to the kitchen, emptied his tumbler into the sink and then got himself a fresh glass of ice water. Since she looked about as befuddled as he felt, he got her one, too.
She followed him into the galley kitchen and accepted the glass, shaking her head as if to clear it. “So you’ve been avoiding me because you like me?” Then she held up her hand to ward off some protest she imagined he was about to make. “Forget I said that. That presupposes that affection and lust are somehow tied together.”
“Ana—” he started to protest.
“No. It’s okay.” She smiled in a wobbly I’m-a-brave-little-trouper sort of way. Then she raised the water glass and drank it in quick, successive gulps. Like she needed to be doused with something icy. “So you want me, but you don’t want to want me. Do I have that right?”
“Let’s just say, yes, I want you. But sex complicates things. And I don’t want to hurt you.”
She set the glass down on the granite counter with a thud. “You’re assuming you could hurt me.”
Her naïveté was charming. “Yes, I am assuming that.” Maybe he should feign modesty, but in truth, he knew her emotions would have little to do with the man he really was. “I’ve been a celebrity a lot longer than you’ve been dealing with celebrities.”
“That’s not true,” she argued vehemently. “I dealt with all kinds of celebrities when I worked in Hollywood.”
“How many did you sleep with?”
Her cheeks turned a fiery red. “That’s none of your business!”
So the answer was either a lot, or none. He’d bet none. “My point is, celebrities are very easy to fall in love with, but very difficult to love.”
He wasn’t a particularly likable guy. He didn’t know if he ever had been, back before Cara got sick, but he certainly wasn’t now. It was a common malady among the famous. People fell in love with their fantasy rather than the person who was standing right in front of them, making their life miserable.
When she looked ready to protest again, he pressed his finger to her mouth to quiet her. “I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want you falling in love with me and then one day waking up and realizing that I’m not the man you really wanted me to be. That wouldn’t be fair to you.”
She frowned, her gaze a little too insightful. “It sounds to me like that wouldn’t be fair to either of us.”
“You’re a sweet kid, Ana. I don’t want to hurt you.”
Her gaze narrowed at his use of the word kid. He’d known it would. She wasn’t a woman who took well to diminutives. There was more than one way to drive a woman away.
She jerked away from his touch, her gaze blazing and went to swipe her jacket off the floor. “So where does that leave us?” she asked, her tone tinged with defiance.
He shrugged. “We still have to work together for Hannah’s Hope. Right now, while we’re starting up, the board’s involvement is pretty heavy. I don’t see any way around that. But once things are underway, it’ll slow down. In a year or so, I can step aside and you can find a new board member.”
But her expression slowly darkened as he spoke and by the time he finished, he knew she was going to make this harder than it needed to be.
She shoved her arms back into the sleeves of her jacket, and slowly stalked toward him. “I meant, where does that leave us. Personally. You’re convinced I’m some kind of delicate flower who can’t handle being involved with you. But you’re wrong. I can handle anything