Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 131486 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131486 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
And maybe it would work, would reassure me if the memory of that moment in the office hadn’t been haunting me the last few weeks. Standing between his legs, the strength of our wills clashing, emotion boiling in the air. As much as I try to disregard it, to believe it meant nothing, I’m not convinced.
Nothing has ever meant nothing between us.
“It’ll be fine,” he says, pocketing the key. “Trust me.”
How can I tell him it’s not him I don’t trust?
It’s me.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Josiah
Harvey, you gotta fix this.”
I pace the hall in front of room 428, clutching the phone to my ear with one hand, gripping the back of my neck with the other.
“I thought you said you could sleep on the pullout,” Harvey says, clearly confused. “And it would be fine.”
“I lied.”
“What—why would you lie?”
“Obviously,” I say, lowering my voice, “because I don’t want Yasmen to know it’s not fine.”
“That makes no sense.”
“You’re not listening.”
“Yeah, I am. It sounds like you’re scared to be in the room for one night with your ex-wife.”
“Scared?” I stop pacing. “Pfftt.”
Great rebuttal.
“You’ll be in the living room on the couch, and she’ll be in the bedroom. I don’t understand the problem.”
There shouldn’t be a problem. I know that, but I can’t shake the feeling that if we spend the night in that room together, everything will change…again.
“You don’t seriously think anything will happen, do you?” Harvey asks. “I mean, between you and Yasmen?”
It’s already happening.
The ground has been shifting by inches ever since that day in my office. Maybe even before. Being in the same room overnight? One wrong move, and this shift could turn tectonic.
“You think you’d cheat on Vashti. Is that what you’re worried about?”
“That’s irrelevant.” I squeeze the bridge of my nose and force out a long breath. “Vashti and I broke up.”
The small gasp from behind me makes me turn slowly to meet Yasmen’s wide, startled eyes.
Dammit.
I wasn’t planning to tell her yet, and certainly not like this.
“Harvey,” I say, eyeing her warily, “I gotta go. We’re due for lunch at one o’clock, right?”
“Yeah, I’ll meet you guys there,” he says. “It’ll be fine.”
I hang up without responding, sliding the phone into my pocket and schooling my expression into absolutely unfazed.
“You and Vashti broke up?” Yasmen asks, a frown puckering her sleek brows.
“Yeah.”
“When?”
“Thanksgiving.”
“Oh, I’m…” Her eyes drop to the floor. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Are you?” I ask, my voice soft and devoid of any real curiosity.
Her expression when she looks back up tells me nothing. She turns back into the room, not bothering to answer. I hesitate at the threshold before following her in, closing the door behind me.
It’s broad daylight. We have a meeting in less than an hour. Business to handle. I know nothing will happen, but lately every time we’re alone, that cord that always seemed to draw us together, the one I thought had been permanently severed, tugs on me.
“I think this may be a little too casual, what I’m wearing. It was fine for the plane,” she calls from the bedroom. “But I’m gonna change.”
I settle onto the couch and pick up the room service menu. I haven’t eaten since breakfast, and my stomach is making monster noises.
“I hope their restaurant has good food,” I say loudly enough for her to hear in the other room.
“I’m so hungry, forget good food. I’ll settle for anything cooked.”
I look up, and my response stalls in my throat. The door is slightly ajar, revealing a sliver of the bedroom. Yasmen stands in her bra and underwear. The view only affords flashes of pink satin and lace and smooth brown skin, but my imagination can fill in the gaps. It was bad enough seeing her half-naked and stumbling across her thong this morning. I should have known better than to listen to Carole when she sent me upstairs to “help” Yasmen. But didn’t I know better? Didn’t I recognize the danger of going to her bedroom—formerly my bedroom—when she was getting dressed? Seeing danger and running headlong into it is foolish and reckless. Two things I can’t afford to be. Two things I’m usually not, but the unusual has always happened with this woman.
“Uh, yeah.” I deliberately avert my gaze from the tempting view. “I’m starving.”
She opens the door and pokes her head out. “You need to get in the bathroom? I’m done in here.”
Braids cascade around her shoulders to her elbows, making her look even younger. The red knit dress she changed into loves every curve of her body, and the black belt cinching her middle exaggerates the line from breast to waist to hips and ass.
“Nah. I’m good.” I clear my throat and look away, back to the menu. “I’mma eat this menu if we don’t get some food soon, though.”
“Guess what I got?” Her smile is sweet and familiar and contagious, and I find myself smiling back.