“What? Clean in your bathrobe?” He stayed leaning against the counter, his arms still crossed, amusement tugging at the corners of his eyes. “What did that comment mean, exactly?”
“It was me being a little bitchy,” she admitted. “Which is totally out of line considering how easily you could get me fired for this.”
His face softened. “I would never do that.”
“Thank you. And, anyway, I seem to be well on my way to doing that all by myself.”
“Because you had a little run-in with the shower hose? You don’t give yourself enough credit, Mandy.”
She smiled at the sound of her name on his lips, so sweet it actually made her next breath come out shakily. Or maybe that was the size and closeness of him and the way his whole face shifted from handsome to heartbreaking when he smiled.
“I give myself plenty of credit,” she said. “In fact,” she added with a dry laugh, “I’m basically living on the stuff now.”
He lifted an eyebrow in interest.
“Not that someone like you could appreciate that, but...” Why had she told him this? Because she wanted pity? Help? A loan? A little disgusted with herself, she started to turn, but he reached out and snagged her elbow.
“Don’t leave.”
“I...can’t really, well, go anywhere,” she said. “But maybe I could dust.”
He laughed, still holding her elbow and inching her closer. “There’s no dust. Tell me about how you are getting yourself fired.”
“You really want to know?”
“Yes.” He let go and propped his hands on the counter at his back, the knuckles nearly white, she noticed, as if he were forcing himself to hang on and not touch her.
Oh, Amanda Lockhart, what an imagination you have.
“Well, it looks like we’re having a management change, and I’m not going to make the first staffing cut when we do.”
His features shifted to a concerned frown. “Really? Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
“I’ll give you a good recommendation. Will that help?”
She let out a breath of surprise and gratitude at the offer. “That’s so sweet. I’d love to read that letter, too. ‘Amanda’s strengths include pest control, eavesdropping, and water management.’ ”
He laughed. “But she looks damn fine in my bathrobe.”
She opened her mouth to reply, but whatever she was going to say got stuck in her throat. Because...that wasn’t true. “I thought I heard you tell your mother you don’t lie.”
“I don’t.” His eyes grew darker blue, all mirth disappearing as his expression shifted to dead serious. “I really never lie. I deal in numbers and facts for a living, and numbers and facts never lie.”
She waited for him to continue, lost in the way he spoke with authority and the shape of his mouth every time it moved. His lips were...perfect. Under the soft velveteen of the robe, she burned with a slow, tingling heat that was definitely not caused by the dryer.
“Well, you’re lying now,” she said, her voice surprisingly gruff. “Because I don’t look fine. I look wet and...tired. And...” Broken. “I’ve had some tough years.”
“They don’t show,” he said, as factually as if he’d added two plus two. “In fact, I can’t take my eyes off you.”
For a long moment, she didn’t say anything, but tried to swallow, her throat tight and dry. Was he being honest, this man who claimed to never lie? It sure seemed that way, but—
“And there was a time,” he said, slowly taking his hands off the counter as though he trusted himself to be steady now, “when I couldn’t look right at you.”
She blinked at him.
“It was like looking at the sun,” he whispered, taking one step closer. “So bright and so blinding that it hurt.” In front of her, he gently put his hands on her shoulders, holding her perfectly still in the doorway. “And you know how when you look at the sun, you can’t see straight for an hour? You have spots in your eyes and everything else in the world is gray?”
It sounded honest. It sounded…lovely. Somehow, she managed to nod, any hope of a reply trapped in her hammering chest.
“Looking right at you used to do that to me.” His thumbs grazed her collarbone, the touch so light she almost had to close her eyes and let the electrical impulses rock her. “It still does.”
“Now I know you’re...” Lying. He had to be lying. Saying whatever he thought he had to say to get this robe off. “Different.”
“From high school?” He lifted a brow. “Yeah. I’m different. Back then I couldn’t talk to you without wanting to fold in half. Now I can’t talk to you without...” He lowered his head, inches from her face. “Mandy.”
She closed her eyes then, the sound of her name on those beautiful lips like music and rainfall and thunder and...
Softness. His kiss was so soft, it shocked her. His grip grew tighter, his lips hungrier, and a low, masculine catch in his throat was as seductive as a stroke of his fingertips.
He flicked his tongue, she angled her head. He eased her closer, she bowed her back. He pressed against her, and she—
Shoved him away with a grunt. “Don’t!” Fury and fear clutched at her, twisting with way more force than desire had. What the hell was wrong with her?
He blinked, jerking his hands in the air like a caught criminal. “I’m...shit, Mandy, I’m...” He swallowed, shaking his head. “I’m not sorry, but I really didn’t mean to...”
“To what? Kiss me? Undress me? Sweet-talk me with some...some bullshit about the sun?”
His eyes darkened. “I told you I don’t lie.”
“Well, I don’t generally make out with the guests.” Except the ones who make me lose my mind. “I feel like some kind of...I don’t know.” But she did know. There was a word for women who did what she’d been thinking about since she’d laid eyes on him. An ugly word.
“God, I’m so sorry.” And he looked it, too. His brows drawn together, his eyes raw with self-disgust, his hands dropping to his sides.
“That’s what you guys do,” she said, old but certainly not dead emotions bubbling up inside. “You make a woman think she’s special and then you want to...destroy her.”
His eyes widened. “Mandy—”