“I told you we weren’t engaged.” Brock shot me a wry grin.
He had. “But that doesn’t mean you’re not still seeing each other. You went back to Philly this weekend and—”
“I want back there to sign paperwork for the sale of the house,” he explained. “I did see Kristen. She still had things she needed to get out of there. It’s taken her a year. I told her if she didn’t get her stuff out this weekend, I was donating the shit.”
“Oh.” My eyes widened.
“She wasn’t exactly happy about that.” His thumb moved over the side of my pinky, sliding up and down. It was such a slight touch, but my entire being focused on it. “It was a long weekend.”
Gathering my thoughts, I recalled how tired he’d looked Monday morning. “So . . . why did she come here?”
“You know, I wish I knew why. None of the reasons she gave me made a damn bit of sense, all things considered.” His thumb still moved over my hand. Did he realize he was doing that? I was pretty sure that wasn’t something a boss did with their employee or friends, because that would get weird quick. “But to answer your question, no, I’m not seeing Kristen in any shape or form.”
“Oh,” I whispered.
The Porsche coasted to a stop at a red light and he looked over at me, his eyes hidden in the darkness of the car. “I’m not seeing anyone, Jillian.”
My lips parted, but I couldn’t get any words out, and my heart was really going crazy now. I lifted my gaze to his and I was snared. For a few brief seconds, there was no past, no yesterday and no tomorrow. There was just now, just Brock and me in this car, his thumb tracing invisible lines over my hand.
Then the light turned green.
A car honked behind us.
A boyish, almost sheepish grin curved his lips and he hit the gas pedal. I looked at our hands. What was he doing? What was I allowing? Biting down on my lip, I slipped my hand free of his.
For a second, his entire hand was flush with my thigh, the weight burning through the thin material of my skirt. Heat pooled low in my belly. His hand was just there for a few seconds, but my body’s reaction was sharp and swift. Arousal pounded through my veins.
Then Brock seemed to realize that his hand was actually on my thigh and he jerked it back.
I exhaled softly, turning my gaze to the window once more. Houses blurred past as we drove down the main street in Martinsburg. I willed my body to get itself back under control.
“Jillian?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you seeing anyone?” he asked.
The question caught me off-guard. I started to say no, but realized that wasn’t exactly true. “I kind of am.”
The grin of his went up a notch. “You sure about that?”
I didn’t answer.
Because I wasn’t.
* * *
Through what turned out to be a three-hour long dinner—the longest dinner of my life—there were only two instances when I had difficulty following the conversation of the two fast-talking gentlemen from the west.
Brock had noticed immediately that I hadn’t picked up on what they were saying. I don’t know if I had a “WTF” expression on my face or if he was somehow just tuned into me, but he smoothly repeated their statements or questions.
The two men didn’t seem to realize I had any problem hearing them, and after the initial double take I received and expected from most people, they didn’t stare.
They wouldn’t.
Both men respected my father too much for their stares to linger, and frankly, they were too in awe of Brock to really notice I was there.
So I ordered a glass of wine.
Or two.
Tyler James, the older of the two men, was most eager to see the Martinsburg facility. “We definitely have some time tomorrow. Our flight isn’t until the afternoon.”
Brock, who’d stuck to drinking only water, took a sip as he glanced over at me. “That would be perfect.”
Holding onto the stem of the wine glass, I nodded. “We actually have two higher-level mixed martial arts classes in the morning, if you’d like to take a look at them.”
Both men agreed they’d be interested in seeing some of the training in action, but the big surprise was when Brock mentioned my idea for expansion, advising that we were looking in the direction of offering dance and possibly gymnastics down the road.
“A lot of untapped potential you have there,” Mr. James said as the check arrived. “We are definitely interested in potentially working together in the future.”
Shocked that he’d even bring it up and that he would credit me with the idea, I was bowled over when both men, whose company specialized in high-protein drinks and bars, wanted to be kept in the loop about the possible endeavor.
It was close to nine-thirty when we stepped outside into the much cooler night air. The men said their goodbyes to Brock and then me, shaking my hand. It was Tyler James who spoke. “I’m really excited to hear more about the possible expansion.” He smiled. “I think you got something very interesting brewing there.”
“Thank you,” I said, bubbling with elation. If Brock was on board and if possible endorsers were interested, then getting my father on board shouldn’t be so difficult. “I think so, too.”
I could barely contain my excitement as the two men climbed into the car they had rented. It had been a long time since I felt like I was actually accomplishing something I cared about at work.
Without thinking, I spun around and sprang forward, throwing my arms around Brock. It wasn’t until I was hugging him did I realize exactly what I’d done. He was just sort of standing there, arms at his sides, still as a statue and obviously shocked by the unexpected gesture from me.