causes my stomach to flutter, the
muscles constricting in an unfamiliar, yet delicious way.
Colin’s
eyes flash quickly to mine and back to my mouth, his tongue lightly stroking
his bottom lip, and it’s nearly my undoing. I stop breathing, waiting for him
to move, almost begging him to. I’m drawn to this man: this powerful, strong, elusive
man, and I want him to kiss me. Closing his eyes, he moves ever so slightly
toward my mouth, inhaling deeply, breathing into me not once but twice. Two
long, deep, intimate breaths.
“Colin.”
Even to my own ears I hear the desire hanging heavily in the word, yet I’m
surprisingly not embarrassed.
“Charlie.”
My name is a whisper on his lips, so close I can feel the sweet rush of breath
when he speaks, “I can’t.”
What?
I don’t understand . He drags his gaze away from me, his hands grabbing the
butterfly bandages he laid out prior to cleaning the cut. And just like that
the moment is over, my lips cold with the undeniable air of rejection. With
deft fingers he closes the gash, setting four bandages along the jagged line in
perfect congruity, quickly wrapping a white sterile bandage around the palm of
my hand, keeping it firm but not too tight.
“You
shouldn’t get your hand wet for a few days; let the wound begin to heal before
you do. Re-bandage it tomorrow and look for signs of infection. If it’s inflamed,
swollen or deep red, you need to go to the hospital.” I hear him, but I can’t
answer. I’ve been repeating his decree over and over again, searching for the
meaning: Charlie, I can’t.
“Charlie?”
His voice is firm, compelling my eyes to seek out his.
“Why
can’t you?”
“It’s
complicated.”
“Do
you have a girlfriend?”
“No,
Charlie. I don’t have a girlfriend.” He hangs his head, pinching the bridge of
his nose. Taking a deep breath, he looks to me with burning, fierce eyes. “I
have a difficult past. You deserve more than I can give you.”
“Shouldn’t
I decide what I deserve? What I want?” I think he’s stopped breathing, and I
wait for him to say something, the silence piercing and uncomfortable the
longer it continues.
“I
can’t,” he whispers finally.
I
flush with anger: anger at myself for pursuing him when I know it’s a bad idea.
And irrational anger with him for his ability to disregard the very clear
invitation I just laid none too delicately at his feet—or more accurately, at
his mouth. Is it possible I’m completely imagining the intense electricity
that’s all-consuming when we’re together? Yet after a moment’s thought I know
he couldn’t be more right. Colin isn’t the only one with a past that will
prevent any sort of future.
A
knock on the door breaks the unbearable tension as Evan pops in. “Rick Scott is
waiting on line one.” He turns to me. “You okay, Charlie?” His smile is keen
until he focuses on my face and then he quickly glances at Colin.
“I’m
fine,” I say scrambling to stand, flinching not-so-subtly when I unconsciously
use my injured hand to help myself up. I have a sudden need to flee, and escape
Colin’s presence. With a last glance in his direction I stare into his eyes.
They’ve darkened to mask any emotions present, a perfect poker face.
“I’ll
leave you to your business.” My voice is more curt than intended. I soften it,
warming to the sentiment. “Thank you for taking care of me. It was much nicer
than a hospital visit.”
The
only acknowledgement to my statement is his brusque nod, effectively dismissing
me from his presence. Turning, I practically lunge for the door, knowing I’m
not wanted. Colin McKenna doesn’t want me, and I’m not sure how I feel about
that.
FOUR
“I
CAN’T BELIEVE I let you talk me into this,” I say, turning in front of the
mirror in a dress Molly lent to me for the occasion. “This dress isn’t
appropriate for the bedroom, let alone a cocktail reception for a presidential
candidate. It’s
muscles constricting in an unfamiliar, yet delicious way.
Colin’s
eyes flash quickly to mine and back to my mouth, his tongue lightly stroking
his bottom lip, and it’s nearly my undoing. I stop breathing, waiting for him
to move, almost begging him to. I’m drawn to this man: this powerful, strong, elusive
man, and I want him to kiss me. Closing his eyes, he moves ever so slightly
toward my mouth, inhaling deeply, breathing into me not once but twice. Two
long, deep, intimate breaths.
“Colin.”
Even to my own ears I hear the desire hanging heavily in the word, yet I’m
surprisingly not embarrassed.
“Charlie.”
My name is a whisper on his lips, so close I can feel the sweet rush of breath
when he speaks, “I can’t.”
What?
I don’t understand . He drags his gaze away from me, his hands grabbing the
butterfly bandages he laid out prior to cleaning the cut. And just like that
the moment is over, my lips cold with the undeniable air of rejection. With
deft fingers he closes the gash, setting four bandages along the jagged line in
perfect congruity, quickly wrapping a white sterile bandage around the palm of
my hand, keeping it firm but not too tight.
“You
shouldn’t get your hand wet for a few days; let the wound begin to heal before
you do. Re-bandage it tomorrow and look for signs of infection. If it’s inflamed,
swollen or deep red, you need to go to the hospital.” I hear him, but I can’t
answer. I’ve been repeating his decree over and over again, searching for the
meaning: Charlie, I can’t.
“Charlie?”
His voice is firm, compelling my eyes to seek out his.
“Why
can’t you?”
“It’s
complicated.”
“Do
you have a girlfriend?”
“No,
Charlie. I don’t have a girlfriend.” He hangs his head, pinching the bridge of
his nose. Taking a deep breath, he looks to me with burning, fierce eyes. “I
have a difficult past. You deserve more than I can give you.”
“Shouldn’t
I decide what I deserve? What I want?” I think he’s stopped breathing, and I
wait for him to say something, the silence piercing and uncomfortable the
longer it continues.
“I
can’t,” he whispers finally.
I
flush with anger: anger at myself for pursuing him when I know it’s a bad idea.
And irrational anger with him for his ability to disregard the very clear
invitation I just laid none too delicately at his feet—or more accurately, at
his mouth. Is it possible I’m completely imagining the intense electricity
that’s all-consuming when we’re together? Yet after a moment’s thought I know
he couldn’t be more right. Colin isn’t the only one with a past that will
prevent any sort of future.
A
knock on the door breaks the unbearable tension as Evan pops in. “Rick Scott is
waiting on line one.” He turns to me. “You okay, Charlie?” His smile is keen
until he focuses on my face and then he quickly glances at Colin.
“I’m
fine,” I say scrambling to stand, flinching not-so-subtly when I unconsciously
use my injured hand to help myself up. I have a sudden need to flee, and escape
Colin’s presence. With a last glance in his direction I stare into his eyes.
They’ve darkened to mask any emotions present, a perfect poker face.
“I’ll
leave you to your business.” My voice is more curt than intended. I soften it,
warming to the sentiment. “Thank you for taking care of me. It was much nicer
than a hospital visit.”
The
only acknowledgement to my statement is his brusque nod, effectively dismissing
me from his presence. Turning, I practically lunge for the door, knowing I’m
not wanted. Colin McKenna doesn’t want me, and I’m not sure how I feel about
that.
FOUR
“I
CAN’T BELIEVE I let you talk me into this,” I say, turning in front of the
mirror in a dress Molly lent to me for the occasion. “This dress isn’t
appropriate for the bedroom, let alone a cocktail reception for a presidential
candidate. It’s
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