Close Up. Erin McCarthy

wouldn’t it?” she asked.

      “Definitely. This is a nonemergency.”

      Kristine had perched her bum on the very edge of the metal shelf. She looked uncomfortable and unbelievably sexy, her tenuous position causing her breasts to spill forward out of her sweater. “So why now?” he asked her.

      “Why now, what?” She looked at him blankly.

      “Why a divorce now? Are you engaged to be married to someone else?”

      She wobbled on the shelf and grabbed it for better balance. “No. Not at all.”

      “Then why?” There had to be a catalyst. She didn’t just wake up one day and think she needed a divorce. He certainly never had. Initially, he had been too raw to even consider it, then he had felt stubbornly that it was her responsibility since she was the one who had technically walked out. Eventually, it had just seemed unnecessary, and a task that fell by the wayside when he had seven thousand other things to do on a weekly basis.

      If he were brutally honest with himself, he had assumed Kristine would seek him out when she got into a scrape. She had always needed him to bail her out of one disaster after another, and he had thought it was his ace in the hole. She would need him.

      But she hadn’t.

      Kristine pursed her lips. “It was pointed out to me that not everyone is okay with dating a woman who is technically married.”

      Ah, so that was it. “A stickler, huh?” Sean didn’t blame the guy. It was a little weird, but damn, it had been ten years. It was a marriage in the courthouse records only. “We haven’t even seen each other in a decade.”

      “I know. I explained that, but he thought it was too revealing that we haven’t divorced.”

      “Or more likely lazy,” he said. Then, because he was curious, nothing more, he asked, “Did you love him?”

      She shrugged. “No. There wasn’t time to love him. A month into dating, and he ditched me when he found out my legal status.”

      “Why didn’t you tell him right away?” Sean asked, a little astonished. “I tell women on the first date. No one ever cares.”

      Kristine snorted. “Of course they don’t. You’re wealthy and hot.”

      His jaw dropped. “So you think the women I date are shallow?”

      Kristine wrinkled her nose. “How should I know?”

      Annoyed, he stripped off his jacket, folded it and draped it over a metal chair, then he walked to the window and turned the latch to shove it open. He was insulted and not entirely sure why.

      “I’m not crawling through that window,” Kristine said, sounding mulish. “I won’t fit and there is a four-foot drop to the alley. Why don’t you crawl through it?”

      “I definitely won’t fit. My shoulders are too wide.”

      “Your shoulders are smaller than my hips. I have hippo hips.”

      That was it. He’d been keeping the lid on his control, but his emotion boiled over without warning and he rounded on her. “Stop making it sound like you’re three thousand pounds,” he said, irritated, and suddenly understanding what she was saying about stale air. It did feel stuffy in the room, but maybe that was just tension. “I hate it when you do that. You’re a goddamn beautiful woman with a body that stops traffic, so enough already. Not every woman is built like a twelve-year-old boy, and some of us are damn grateful for that.”

      Kristine blinked at him, her eyes wide. “Oh.”

      Sean immediately felt guilty for raising his voice. She looked so stricken. “Kristy,” he said, falling into her familiar nickname. “If you weren’t so gorgeous I wouldn’t right now be wishing I had you naked beneath me.”

      She sucked in her breath. Sean stepped toward her, blood rushing south, his cock aching painfully. He wanted to taste her, take her mouth with his and push his tongue between her soft lips.

      “This is a bad idea,” she said, in an uncertain whisper.

      “That never stopped us before.” He took another step, stalking her like a predator.

      But she suddenly started, scooting around him.

      “Okay, lift me up. I’ll try the window.”

      Sean was disappointed, but he still grinned. Clearly, being alone with him even for twenty minutes was such a temptation she was willing to tackle the window. It would totally suck if she were unaffected, but she obviously was not. This he could work with. She still had some feelings for him, even if they were simply sexual. He could fan the flames of her desire, coax her into his bed, and say goodbye to their marriage and Kristine properly and on a positive note.

      He had enjoyed their marriage, and frankly, he didn’t want it to end in bitterness. If she was determined to divorce him, then he wanted to go out with a bang. Literally.

      So he squatted on his haunches and cupped his hands together to make a perch for her. Kristine kicked off her heels, and while she gave his hands a dubious look, she took a deep breath and put a foot into his hold. Her skin was warm, and her knee bumped his chest. She squawked as her balance failed and her foot fell onto the floor.

      “You have to hold on to my shoulders.”

      Kristine gave him a look, as if she was convinced this was a ploy to get into her panties. Which he supposed it was, though he’d had absolutely nothing to do with the door being locked. He wasn’t taking the blame for that.

      Now that he thought about it, why was the door locked? It didn’t seem like something a caterer who didn’t normally work in the building would do. He’d been so distracted by seeing Kristine that the obvious had bypassed his attention. “So this Allison, have you worked with her before?” he asked Kristine as she stepped into his foot again, fingers lightly perched on his shoulders.

      “No. I’ve had this job for only two weeks. I just got back to Minneapolis.”

      Well, at least she hadn’t been fifteen minutes away from him for months without communicating. That would have been something of a kick in the nuts to hear. “Has the gallery used this caterer before?”

      “I think this is the caterer they always use, yes.”

      Huh. So was it really just an accident? He supposed it must be, unless the caterer was an international art thief clearing out the gallery as they spoke. For a second, he wondered if they should call the cops, but the gallery sounded dead silent and Kristine distracted him from his thought processes. She wasn’t doing anything. One foot was still on the floor, and her waist was still tantalizingly close to his face. His mouth.

      “What are you doing?” he asked her.

      “I don’t know. What am I supposed to do?”

      He grinned. “You have to reach for the ledge. You pull and I’ll lift you up.”

      “This is not going to work. Forget it.”

      His phone rang. It was Michigan. “Excuse me, Kristy, this is my assistant.” He tapped at his phone to answer it. “Hello?”

      “There’s been an accident and I’m sitting here completely stopped. Looks like a semi rolled and three lanes are blocked. So, um, it may be a little longer than twenty minutes. I’d guesstimate an hour.”

      Sean should be more annoyed than he was. “Okay, thanks. Sorry.”

      He hung up and said to Kristine, “There’s an accident on the highway and Michigan is in the thick of it. He estimates an hour before he gets back here.”

      “Oh, geez.” She eyed the window. “That’s a long time without air.”

      He wanted to laugh. “There is plenty of air. It’s fine.”

      “I’m a little claustrophobic.