The more she spoke, the more he relaxed. “You are a very naughty girl. How did I not know this?”
“I’m just guessing, of course, but maybe because you never took the time to get to know me.”
“Ouch.”
“Truth is truth, Creampants.”
“Well, here’s a new truth. I was dumb, but now I’m smart. I am getting to know you better.”
She gave his chest a bless your darling heart pat.
“When you relay this story to your friends—” he began.
“I would never—” she interjected, only to stop. She might relay some of it. But only because she needed advice about what the whole interaction meant and what she should do next. She waved her hand. “Continue.”
“Be kind to me. Tell them I was so manly I took care of you, then walked away without a single concern for myself.”
She snickered. “Yes, because you are such a giver.”
“I know, right?” He traced a path down the ridges of her spine. “All I do is give, give, give.”
Wanting—needing—to touch him in return, she threaded her fingers through his chains and rested her palm on his sternum. “Stay true to your nature and give me the details about your locket.” He was getting to know her; it was only fair that she get to know him, too.
“It belonged to my mother.” He opened the locket to show a picture of Bonnie Porter, a beautiful woman with Daniel’s dark hair and amber eyes. “She used to keep a picture of me inside, said she liked to have me close to her heart at all times. When she died, I replaced the picture with one of her so I could have her close to my heart.”
“I understand.” With her free hand, she traced her fingertips over her tattoo. The rose she carried close to her heart. A reminder of her baby—probably her only baby. Definitely her only. According to multiple doctors, she had a one in a million chance of having another. Her body was too scarred to have another with any kind of ease.
Goodbye, afterglow.
Stop! Before you break down.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
Concentrate on him. He still used an endearment. But how long would it last? When would he wash his hands of her and turn his attention to someone else?
“Well,” she said, and cleared her throat. Be the one who leaves, not the one who’s left behind. “Four guests stayed at the inn last night, and they’ll be getting up any moment, wanting breakfast.” Which meant she would have to cook, since Carol was out of town.
“Why did you and the ex-husband split?” he asked, ignoring her comments.
She wasn’t surprised he knew about Jazz. They lived in a small town, and everyone knew everybody’s business. Plus, her mom had once hung wedding photos in the lobby. Dorothea had no desire to share the truth, however; it made her look pathetic. And yes, she knew her mind-set was wrong. She wasn’t the one who should be ashamed.
“He cheated on me,” she finally admitted.
“He’s an idiot.”
“Yes,” she said, then changed the subject. “What made you join the army?”
“Chicks like warriors.”
“So...sex?”
“Yes, ma’am. Also, I thought I wanted to escape Strawberry Valley and memories of my mom. I quickly found out those memories would see me through the worst of times.”
How sweet. And unexpected. He had depths she hadn’t known to plumb.
Afraid of hearing more and softening too much, she quipped, “You ready to hear my life history?”
He stiffened, confusing her. “This is probably going to make you angry, but...I did a background check on you. In my defense,” he rushed on, “you’d just come to my room and asked me to ravish your gloriously naked body. I couldn’t get my brain to work—still can’t. I wanted to know more about you, and the check seemed like the fastest way.”
Her first reaction probably shouldn’t be delight and satisfaction that he’d been so curious about her, he’d gone digging for info. And yet pleasure fluttered soft wings inside her.
Shouldn’t encourage him. She put as much irritation as possible in her tone when she said, “You invaded my privacy. Don’t do it again.”
He sat up to look at her, his brows furrowed. “You’re pleased?”
“No. Yes.” Deny and lie wasn’t her style. She sighed. “How I feel is neither here nor there, Mr. Porter. I want a detailed report about your life on my desk first thing in the morning.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He saluted her, then muttered something that sounded like “Such an odd duck.”
“Go ahead and leave it with my he-ceptionist. And tell him to highlight the good parts, otherwise I’m sure to be bored out of my mind.”
He mock growled at her. “I’m your very manly assistant, and I’ll hear you admit the truth.” Merciless, he tickled her, making her squeal like a hyena.
“Fine. You’re my...receptionist.”
“Better.” He leaned down and licked her neck.
Her stomach quivered...and then it twisted. Her scars! What if his report on her mentioned her fall? Her loss?
“What did you learn about me?” she said through gritted teeth. “Tell me.”
“There’s the anger I expected.” With a sigh, he plopped at her side. “I learned you were married and divorced, and that you’d dropped out of meteorology school.”
She stared at him hard, determined to catch any minute change in his facial expression. “That’s it?”
No change. “That’s it.”
She relaxed, but only slightly. “You invaded my privacy, Daniel.” A repeat of her earlier words, though they were said with a sharper tone this time.
“I know. And I’m sorry. I won’t do it again, you have my word. You mean too much to me, and betraying your trust would hurt me as much as you.”
That was something, at least. Not to mention sweet as sugar—and panty-melting hot. I’m important to him!
Now, now. Don’t you go getting a big head. Even his rescue dog is important to him.
“Why’d you drop out?” he asked. “You clearly love all things weather.”
Tell him about the depths of her foolishness? Her pathetic attempt to make herself invaluable to a man who’d later proved he’d never really loved her? No, thanks.
“I just did,” she said, and sat up. “I decided it was time to come home.”
“I’m glad you’re here.” Tugging on a lock of her hair, he said, “But I’m still curious about the change. Don’t tell me the reason if you don’t want to, but at least give me a chance to make you want to tell me.”
She blinked down at him, shocked. “What do you mean, exactly?” Just in case she’d misunderstood.
He sat up now, his bare shoulder brushing her clothed one. Despite her orgasm, desire for him flared anew.
Had he noticed?
Pleasure glittered in his eyes. “I want to date you,” he said. “For real. Do the whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing.”
Her jaw nearly dropped to the floor. “Wh-what?”
“I don’t want a one-night stand with you, or even a friends-with-benefits thing. I want to be the only man you’re dating because you’ll be the only girl I’m dating.”
Can't Hardly Breathe (The Original Heartbreakers #4)
Gena Showalter's books
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