Unguarded by Tracy Wolff Page B

had killed herself, he’d made a point of sliding through life with a wink and a smile, steering clear of any major complications or entanglements.
    But this was different, this energy that pulsed between Rhiannon and him whenever they got too close. It was sweet yet exciting, sexy yet comfortable—as much a mystery and a contradiction as Rhiannon was herself. Even knowing that she was a risk—that he might very well end up on his ass six weeks from now, watching as she zoomed off into her own sunset—couldn’t keep him from wanting her.
    â€œSo, I suppose you want to watch these movies with me?”
    â€œWell, since you asked so nicely…”
    â€œI appreciate the gift—I really do. It was incredibly thoughtful. But…” She paused and he waited forthe brush-off he could tell was coming. It upset him, because he knew, deep down, that they could be good together. But she had to know it, too, or at least suspect it. Otherwise, it didn’t do him any good to stand around mooning over her.
    â€œYou know it can only be business between us, Shawn.”
    And there it was, the line he’d been waiting for. “Why?”
    â€œBecause you’re a client, one whose event is going to bring in big word of mouth for my firm. I can’t afford to get tangled up with you.”
    â€œOkay.” He shrugged. “You’re fired, then. Problem solved.”
    Her eyes widened. “The problem is definitely not solved. I can’t afford to let you fire me. My boss would kill me.”
    â€œWell, then, what do you suggest we do? Because I’m not willing to just forget being with you, talking to you, simply because I hired your firm to do my party.”
    â€œIt’s a conflict of—”
    â€œDon’t give me that tired old line about conflicts of interest.” He moved closer to her, crowded her just a little bit even as he told himself it was the wrong move.
    But he couldn’t help it. He wanted to be near her, wanted to feel the silky soft brush of her skin against his again. Wanted to smell her sweet honeysuckle scent. He didn’t touch her—he still had enough control not to do that—but he couldn’t make himself take that step back, no matter how much he knew he should.
    â€œBecause if you feed me that line, it means one oftwo things. Either you’re not interested in me and you’re looking for a convenient excuse to step back gracefully, or you are interested and I should just eliminate the conflict so that we can move forward.” He took a deep breath, inhaled her into his lungs. “So which one is it, Rhiannon? Do you want to go on a third date with me or don’t you?”
    â€œThis isn’t a date,” she protested, but it was weak and he could tell she knew it.
    â€œYeah, well, it sure as hell isn’t a business dinner.” He glanced at the clock. “At least, not exclusively a business dinner.”
    â€œIt was supposed to be.” Her voice sounded desperate, and her big coffee-brown eyes pleaded with him to let the subject drop.
    He didn’t want to. He wanted to follow the thing through, to figure out where they stood once and for all. But she was looking a little panicked and he couldn’t ignore that—not when he’d made certain, his entire life, never to deliberately make a woman uncomfortable.
    â€œAll right, then.” He forced himself to ease back, but it was a lot harder than it should have been. “Business, it is. For now.”
    He nodded to the gift bag still in her hands. “Enjoy the movies. Start with the top one—it’s the best.”
    Tension throbbed between them, though he did his best to alleviate it by walking around the bar and putting the width of the thing between them. He poured himself a whiskey, then asked, “Do you want anything?”
    â€œNo. I’m driving.”
    â€œRight. Of course you