One Summer In New York. Trish Wylie

* *

      Ethan came into the kitchen after he’d showered. Holly was picking at the apple crisp from the baking dish they had managed to stick in the refrigerator last night after Aunt Louise and Fernando had left.

      Before they’d gone out looking at buildings. And at each other.

      He joined her in scavenging through the mess of the kitchen for breakfast. “Is there coffee?”

      She nodded. Once again, the cramped space was making her uneasy. Holly winced at every accidental slide against Ethan’s starched white shirt or suit pants as she prepared two cups of java.

      There had been quite enough touching him last night. She needed a break.

      With him carrying the coffee, she followed him to the table with the apple crisp. She licked bits off her fingers as she folded herself into a chair.

      “We could use forks,” he suggested, “like evolved humans.”

      “Sorry if I’m not civilized enough for you.”

      “I did not say that.”

      He imitated her by gnawing his own fingerful of the leftover desert. Trying to make her laugh. Unsuccessfully.

      Not that he didn’t look cute doing it.

      “I think it’s obvious,” she sneered.

      Truth was, she was more than a little ticked off at what had happened last night at the Empire State Building. Even though she had asked for it. But how dare he kiss her like that if it didn’t mean anything to him? That went way beyond the call of duty in this assignment she’d consented to.

      Of course she’d had her part in it. She certainly hadn’t pushed him away. The opposite, in fact. His kisses had fed a vital nutrient into her body that she had been starved of for so long she hadn’t even known she was ravenous for it.

      Nonetheless, she was still furious at him for stoking that hunger.

      “What I think is obvious...” he paused for a sip of coffee “...is that you are angry at me and I do not know why.”

      “Welcome to marriage.”

      “No surprise I have steered clear of it.”

      She undid and redid her ponytail, buying a moment to regroup. Deciding to be honest.

      “We went too far last night.”

      “I agree completely,” he replied quickly.

      “You do?”

      His kisses hadn’t offered any apology. They had been the kisses of a man entitled to his desires, who confidently took them with no cause for second guesses.

      “Clearly we need to define the parameters of our physical contact,” he stated, as if he was discussing an architectural floor plan. “It is important that we keep any sentiment out of the framework.”

      Was he admitting that he had felt as much as she had in that transcendental swirl of urgent kisses and intimate embraces? Or was he scolding her for crossing boundaries?

      “It’s my fault,” she said, strategizing. “I asked you for some practice kissing because I don’t want us to appear awkward in front of other people.”

      He took a minute to measure her words, carefully contemplating them before he responded.

      “We simply got carried away,” he concluded. “We will not do it again.”

      Inexplicably, her heart crashed to the floor. Which made no sense—because not passionately kissing Ethan Benton again was exactly what did need to happen.

      “Right...” she granted. Yet sadness ricocheted between her ears.

      As a diffuser, she munched on another chunk of the apple dessert.

      Clearly no longer interested in the leftovers, Ethan reached for his phone. He ignored her to swipe, read and type.

      She looked at her painting of him on the wall. She had never painted Ricky, nor the other couple of men she had dated. None of them had gotten under her skin like Ethan had. Filling her not only with the inclination but with the outright necessity to bring her brush to his likeness.

      Ethan was like the multi-faceted diamond she wore on her finger. Every way she turned she saw something new. Something more. Something unexpected. Something unfathomable. She could paint him a hundred times and still not be done.

      Eventually he glanced up and observed her, as if maybe he had forgotten she was in the room.

      “So. Shall we establish some ground rules?”

      “O-okay,” she stumbled, unsure where he was going with this.

      “I believe we will need to kiss on occasion. We will certainly want a convincing display of affection at the shareholders’ gala, when our engagement is announced.”

      Holly braced herself, suddenly unsure if she was really going to be able to go through with this charade. She felt ill-suited to the task. It was too much.

      “I think it will be beneficial for us to define what type of kissing is necessary,” he continued.

      “Absolutely,” she bluffed, shifting in her seat.

      “For example, I see no need for our tongues to touch, as they did last night.”

      Well, that was for sure. Her head and heart couldn’t afford any more kisses like last night’s. The kind that made a girl forget that she was only an employee of the most compelling and sexy man she had ever met. A man who had made it clear that he had hired her to help him protect his aunt, the only woman he’d ever love.

      A fact she’d be wise to keep in the forefront of her mind.

      Which his kisses completely clouded.

      “Got it—no tongues.” She nodded once and reached her hand across the table to shake his in a gentlemen’s agreement.

      Ethan’s mouth hooked up as he shook her hand. He was amused by her gesture of sportsmanship.

      Except he didn’t let go of her hand after the shake. In fact he fought to keep it like a possession he’d battle to the ground for. He turned it over and caressed the tops of her fingers with the pad of his thumb.

      “I’d prefer it if you didn’t press your body into mine.” Holly yanked her hand free and continued. She sparked at the memory of last night’s six feet and three inches of solid manpower searing into her.

      “How far away shall I stand?” he asked, holding his thumb and forefinger apart as a measurement. “This far?”

      “Further than that.”

      Widening the gap between his fingers, he tilted his head. “This far?”

      “At least.”

      “And would that be all of my body? Or just certain parts?”

      Oh, Lordy, he was mocking her.

      “Probably all parts.” She kept going. “Of course we should have friendly hugs, but nothing prolonged.”

      “Shall I program a timer?” He smirked.

      She lifted her palms in surrender. “Look, it was your idea to lay down some guidelines.”

      “You are right. I did not realize how ludicrous it would sound stated aloud.” He abruptly stood and gathered his phone, tablet, keys and wallet. “For the moment we need not be concerned about our proximity to each other. My schedule today is filled with appointments.”

      With that, he turned toward the front door. Holly shifted her eyes to spy him putting on his suit jacket followed by his overcoat. He picked up a roll of architectural blueprints that had been propped up beside the door, and out he went.

      Holly wasn’t exactly sure why a sharp tear