Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80153 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80153 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
I walk down the beach, and I try to burn off this frustration, but thirty minutes later I’m no closer to finding Zen without her.
There’s no Zen without her.
I go inside, take the elevator, and walk down the hallway, banging my fist on room 302. When she answers, I pose a question I’ve been dying to ask for a long, long time.
20
JILLIAN
His right arm rests against the doorframe. His big body fills the doorway.
Nerves skate over my skin. My throat is dry. I want to tell him he behaved like a jerk tonight at the pool, grunting out words like a caveman.
But I also want to know why he’s come calling at nine at night.
I try to manage a hi, what can I do for you, except he gets the first words in.
“What would it be like if we didn’t work together?”
His words hang in the air like sweet smoke.
Like possibility.
Inside, I’m shaking—with want, with hope, with an anticipation that thrills and scares me. He’s here at my hotel room, and his blue eyes are blazing. There’s a fire in them, a heat I haven’t seen before. Briefly, I glance down, trying to see me as he does—I’m wearing only a tank top and pajama shorts. My hair is blow-dried, since I just took a shower. I had to wash off the chlorine, along with my frustration over how he behaved at the pool.
I should still be annoyed with him, but it’s hard to stay that way since curiosity is eating at me. Carefully, in a low voice, I ask, “What do you mean?”
Blue lights along the floorboards glow faintly in the stylish room behind me, as Sam Smith plays from my phone. “Stay with Me” floats in the air like a call to him, a request for Jones to spend the night.
He leans a few inches closer, making me dizzy.
“What I mean is . . .” He takes his time answering, his voice full of a need I’ve never heard from him before. “What would things be like with you and me if we didn’t work together?”
My voice is breathless as I answer, and I’m sure it betrays my heart. “What do you think they’d be like?” I ask quietly, but my wariness over prying eyes runs strong, so I shake my head. “Don’t answer.” I peer down the hall. No one’s around, but whatever he’s going to utter is best said behind closed doors. “Come inside.” I open the door wider, and he enters. When the door slides closed with a thunk, the sound reverberates.
It feels like a line in the sand.
A line I shouldn’t cross.
But I want to know what comes next.
He runs a hand through his hair and sighs heavily. His voice is vulnerable when he speaks. “Why don’t you look at me, Jillian?”
A spark of anger burns in me. “Why were you a jerk at the pool?”
He huffs. “Because I thought that guy was with you.”
“So you were dismissive and barely said a word?”
He nods. “Yes. And then when I talked to you, you just stared straight at me, but you didn’t look at me.” He takes a beat, breathes hard, then seems to let go of his anger. “And all I want is to look at you.”
I’m burning, everywhere. I’m hot and wet and electric. Heat flares low in my belly, settling between my legs.
“I do look at you.” I wind my hands behind my back and lace my fingers together to keep from launching myself at him.
“Do you look at me the way I look at you?”
“How do you look at me?”
He steps closer. He’s a foot away. I’ve never been so aware of space in my life. “Like it drove me up the wall that you were with that guy. Like it made me act like a jerk, and I’m sorry.”
A wild thrill rushes through me at his admission. I’ve never experienced this sensation, this absolute intoxication from knowing the person you long for is longing for you, too. My friends and family have told me he feels this way, but I hunted for every reason to disavow what they said. Now, I’m floating on this cloud of disbelief, and it feels so good to fly this high. I don’t want the real world. I don’t want consequences. I just want him.
“You’re not a jerk. But I told you—he’s a friend, and that’s all.”
His shoulders rise and fall. “I couldn’t stand to see you laughing with him. To see him hugging you.”
Since honesty seems to be the theme tonight, I toss out another kernel of truth. “It drove me up the wall that you didn’t have dinner with me.” It’s a relief to finally give voice to my own jealousy, and taking the first step frees me to say more. Emboldened, I add softly, “I wanted to have dinner with you.”