Until We Touch (Fool's Gold #15)

Her blue eyes were fixated on the bird. Her mouth was parted a tiny bit and color lightly stained her smooth skin.

She was lovely, he thought in surprise. Sure, she always looked good. Casual and easygoing. But there was something different about how she looked today, although he couldn’t figure out what the change was.

“That owl is incredible,” Percy said, moving a little closer. “Angry, but who wants to live in a cage?”

“She won’t for long,” Larissa assured him.

Jack stared at the floor of the cage. “What’s that stuff?” he asked. There were odd-shaped things.

“A bird’s gotta do what a bird’s gotta do,” Percy told him.

“I don’t think so,” Jack said as he inched closer to the cage.

“That’s from her dinner,” Larissa said cheerfully. “She eats her food whole then throws up the fur and bone.”

“Of course she does,” Jack said grimly while Percy started to laugh.

* * *

JACK TURNED IN close to eleven. But the second he clicked on the bedside light, he knew it was going to be a very long night.

Despite being an entire floor below, with at least one closed door between them, Jack could still clearly hear the owl protesting her confinement. Hoots and screeches were followed by just enough silence for him to get sleepy. Then she started up again.

He turned onto his side and punched his pillow. Not that it would help. Because the owl was only part of the problem. Larissa was the other part. Kissing her had been a mistake. Not because he hadn’t liked it, but because it had changed things between them. Inevitable, he supposed. Now he had to figure out a way to put the genie back in the bottle.

With any other woman, he could simply end things. But there wasn’t anything to end. Not technically. Besides, Larissa was an integral part of his life. Like air—he needed her to survive. She was the best part of him. Without her, he was nothing but an empty shell. Why would he want that when he could be—at least in her eyes—a perfect hero?

CHAPTER TEN

“DOESN’T JACK CARE what you put on his calendar?” Percy asked. “You could write in anything. Like send him to Omaha for no reason.”

Larissa grinned at the teen. “Technically that’s true, but why would I? Jack’s my boss and my friend. I don’t want to torture him.” No, what she had in mind for Jack had nothing to do with torture and everything to do with...

She cleared her throat and her mind. Focus, she told herself. No wayward sexual thoughts, especially not with Percy in the room. That would be too weird and icky.

Percy studied the calendar. They were in her office and she was explaining what her job entailed. Part of Percy’s education was to understand the workings of Score.

“Still, he has to really trust you, right?” he asked.

“Uh-huh. That’s part of the relationship.” She pointed to the different events. “It’s all color-coded. Speaking engagements, appearances for charity. Regular meetings.”

“Golf is a charity event?” Percy asked.

“It can be. There’s going to be a Pro-am here in a few weeks.”

Percy frowned. “What’s a Pro-am?”

“Professionals and amateurs playing together, only the amateurs are mostly celebrities.”

“Jack plays professionally?”

She clicked on the square in the calendar, expanding it to show all the information. “This is golf where he’s considered an amateur. It’s a fund-raiser for a local charity. Professional golfers come play with people from TV and the movies, along with some other athletes.”

“Like Jack.”

“Exactly.”

“Will you play?”

“I don’t like golf. Plus, the amateurs are really kind of famous in their own right.”

“Like Jack, Kenny and Sam.”

“Uh-huh.”

The teen leaned forward in his chair. “That makes sense. ’Cuz if people are going to pay to watch you play golf, you’d better be somebody they admire or something.” He gave her a shy smile. “But you’re prettier than Jack.”

“Thank you, Percy.”

He turned his attention back to the calendar. “You do a lot of massages.”

They were in purple on the calendar. She clicked a tab, which shifted the screen to her weekly schedule. “I do less than I would if that was my full-time job,” she told him. “But that’s okay. I like the variety.”

“Did you have to study to do massages?”

“I did. I had to learn about muscles and how the body works. Once I’d completed my instruction, I had to practice by giving massages. There are a certain number of hours required to be certified.”

Which she wasn’t, she reminded herself. She had the paperwork, the hours and the education. She really needed to get off her butt and send in the paperwork. Not that it would change her life at Score, but it would be nice to know she was employable anywhere.