Because…because he’s Owen.
Emotion clogged her throat as she gave him a sidelong glance, noticing the way his dark eyebrows were drawn in concentration. He might have a lot of flaws, but there were so many good things about him. He was smart, unbelievably dedicated to his work and to his clients. He had a great sense of humor. A drool-worthy body. A chiseled, handsome face that made her breathless sometimes. He was kind. He loved his family, treated everyone in town with the utmost respect. And maybe he didn’t do long-term relationships, but Maddie had always suspected he’d make a great dad. In the fall he coached a football house league for third and fourth graders, and she’d seen the sweet way he treated those children. Owen Bishop was truly a first-class man.
But that didn’t mean he wasn’t a first-class jerk for making her skip out on her first real date in more than a year.
Owen could tell Maddie was still angry with him. Even the delicious dinner he’d had delivered—his treat—hadn’t lifted her spirits. Their empty food cartons littered the desk, but neither of them had made a move to get back to work. They were sitting cross-legged on the hardwood floor, and he noticed she was fidgeting an awful lot, a scowl on her face.
“You can’t still be mad at me,” he finally sighed. “We’re almost at the Rs. It’ll only take another hour or so to finish.” By then it would be ten-thirty, and too late for her to meet up with Wyatt. Mission accomplished.
To his surprise, she shook her head. “I’m not mad. I’m antsy. The after-dinner cigarette used to be my favorite, and the cravings for it are always the worst.”
That startled him. He’d known Maddie had quit smoking a couple of years ago, but he hadn’t realized she still got cravings. In fact, there were a lot of things he didn’t know about her. What did she do when she left the office and went home in the evenings? He knew she watched football on Sundays, but he suddenly realized he had no clue what else she did for fun.
“But you wouldn’t know,” she grumbled. “Mr. Perfect here has never had a drag of a cigarette, has he?”
“Nope,” Owen admitted proudly. “Jake smokes, though.”
Looking interested, Maddie met his gaze for the first time in days. “When is he showing up, anyway? I haven’t seen Jake in more than a year, maybe longer.”
“He’s flying in a few days before the wedding. He’ll miss Nate’s bachelor party tomorrow night, but at least he’s coming home.”
“It’s so weird, how different you two are.” She cocked her head in curiosity. “Were you ever tempted to join the Army when he enlisted?”
“Not in the slightest.” He grinned ruefully. “Getting shot at isn’t something I ever wanted to experience.”
Maddie gasped. “Has Jake ever been shot?”
“Half a dozen times, at least. Ask him to show you the scars—he likes bragging about them.”
He immediately regretted the remark as he remembered that several of his twin’s scars were in places Maddie had no business looking. That weird jolt of possessiveness startled him, and the following rush of jealousy didn’t help much either. He wished she didn’t look so damn good in that yellow dress. She was no longer cross-legged, she now had her legs stretched out, and they were so long and smooth he curled both hands into fists to refrain from reaching out and touching all that silky skin.
He forced his eyes back to her face, noticing the faint blush on her cheeks. “Were you just checking out my legs?” she demanded.
Of course she just had to go and point it out, didn’t she?
“You’ve got nice legs,” he said lightly, feeling his own cheeks go hot.
She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it, her lips tightening in a harsh slash. To his disappointment, she got to her feet and headed toward the file cabinets. He heard her mumble something under her breath, but didn’t catch a single word.
“What did you say?” he asked.
Maddie began rifling through the S files, thoroughly ignoring him.
Owen’s shoulders stiffened as he marched over to her. Her muttered remark hadn’t sounded all that pleasant, judging from the tone of her voice, and he got the feeling it had been directed at him. She bent down, and her long brown hair fell over her shoulders like a silk curtain, a few strands disappearing in her cleavage.
He gritted his teeth. “If you have something to say to me, just say it.”
She lifted her head and shot him a cool look. “I’d rather not.”
As irritation gathered in his gut, he reached out and clasped his fingers over her arm. Instantly, heat suffused his palm. “Say it,” he ordered.
Brown eyes flashing, she met his gaze head-on. “I was just commenting on the fact that my nice legs are being wasted here, in this office, when I could be having drinks with someone who actually appreciates them.”