Wound Up. Kelli Ireland

fall back and loosed an evil cackle before bursting into laughter again. Dropping her arms, she shrugged. “So eighty hours of blah, blah, blah before I officially become a psychologist.”

      His chest tightened around the twinge. “Yeah? Are you staying local?”

      She nodded. “Personal issues regarding my housing situation meant I had to stay close by.”

      “Want to have lunch, then, say, Wednesday? We can meet somewhere midpoint for both of us.” Postcoital meal arrangements might be backward, but it would assuage the guilt needling him for the screw-and-run he’d momentarily considered. This? This he could live with. Barely.

      He’d take it.

      A faint blush stole across her cheeks. “Lunch? That’d be great.” The words were right, but the hesitation in them wasn’t.

      “Are you allergic to lunch?” he asked as casually as he could.

      “No.” She rubbed her throat, her free arm wrapping around her torso. “It’s just...you remember I’m leaving right?”

      “It’s not a marriage proposal, Grace. It’s just lunch.”

      She smiled up at him. “Okay, then. Downtown area would be easiest for me.”

      He exhaled slowly. “Excellent.” They weren’t through with each other.

      Not by a long shot.

      * * *

      GRACE WATCHED JUSTIN’S shoulders sag and couldn’t be sure if it was relief or disappointment. The former buoyed her while the latter stung like hell.

      It shouldn’t matter. She just had to get through the next two weeks and then she was following Meg to Baltimore where she’d try to find a job. It was as far as Grace could conceivably get from Seattle, her past and her mother.

      Still, watching Justin’s reaction was very much like holding on to a life vest in twenty-foot seas. A second to catch your breath before getting driven under again.

      He squared his shoulders and crossed the room. “How about Tuesday? I don’t want to wait until Wednesday.” Cupping her face, he leaned in. “Say yes.” The smell of minty toothpaste on his breath combined with the scent of the hotel’s soap and shampoo on his skin to form a clean smell she knew she’d never forget.

      “Yes.”

      “And dinner with me Wednesday.”

      “Yes.” The answer was out of her mouth before she truly considered the implications.

      “Good.” He closed the distance and kissed her, lips soft yet firm as he laid claim to her mouth, owning the moment, owning her, in a way that disconcerted her. No one had ever made the effort to get to know her, to see her, to invest in her. Then Justin happened.

      It was only supposed to have been one night. Not a date. No expectations. Nothing more. But he’d been so sincere in his interest, so transparent in his desire for her. What woman wouldn’t want to enjoy that for just a bit longer?

      He’d caused her to reconsider everything she’d thought would be true today. And she wasn’t sure how to revise her expectations because he’d left them open-ended. Living with a “maybe” where Justin was concerned was dangerous. She needed concretes, absolutes, not maybes and what-ifs. She could manage this...this...fling if she kept it in perspective. Because while his invitations certainly changed the rules they’d established, the outcome was pre-determined and non-negotiable.

      She wouldn’t allow him to derail her goals, professional or personal, no matter how long she’d wanted just what he offered right now. She’d worked too hard, made too many sacrifices to let it fall apart now because of a man...no matter how much she might want said man. With autonomy would come more opportunity, but as long as she was in Seattle? She’d always be Cindy Cooper’s daughter, the runt who couldn’t get out of the woman’s way fast enough. Grace refused to live in that emotionally putrid place anymore.

      She wouldn’t allow one night with Justin to potentially change everything she thought about her career, her future, herself.

      Feeling her stiffen in his embrace, he broke the kiss and, still cradling her jaw in those large, capable hands, rested his forehead against hers. “Stop overthinking things.”

      “Stop reading my face.”

      “Stop projecting every thought you’re having.”

      She rolled her forehead back and forth against his.

      “Seriously, Grace. Stop borrowing tomorrow’s trouble. Today has plenty of its own.”

      “Stop sounding like a fortune cookie.” She paused and rolled her eyes up to meet his stare. “Unless you’ve got the winning lottery numbers printed on your body. Then, by all means, proceed.”

      He grinned, the tiny crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes apparent this close. “You can check it out if you want.”

      “Cute. We’ve got to get out of here in the next half hour.”

      “Let’s hurry and get breakfast.”

      “Sure.” She waited. He didn’t move. “You have to let go of my face first.”

      Quick and hard, he took her mouth, backing her up against the wall as he kissed her.

      When he shifted and let his lips trail down her neck to nip her collarbone, she shivered. “You have a real thing for walls.”

      “Not until you, I didn’t.”

      The hummingbirds in her belly took up acrobatic maneuvers, successfully avoiding her pride’s attempts to squash them. She couldn’t help it if he kept saying all the right things. Every woman wanted to know she was wanted.

       Wanted.

      The idea she could be part of something bigger than just herself, that she could spend the next two weeks with someone, with him, was the greatest temptation she’d faced in, well, ever. She’d spent a lifetime alone, craving the things her friends took for granted—parents, extended family, the dreaded Christmas sweater, conflict between Aunt Jane and Uncle John. College had alleviated some of that when she’d met her three closest friends, but there was still a longing for family she didn’t dare look at too closely. It would simply remind her that her past hadn’t taught her anything about what it was to love or be loved. That was a reminder she neither wanted nor needed.