The atmosphere chilled and Michelle took another drink, unsure what to say or do, as he stared down at his beer bottle. The bar seemed to freeze into silence, eerily devoid of chatter, chair scraping, and glass clinking.
“So tell me about you.” He looked into her eyes. “What does this new life entail? Do you have a job?”
She heard the forced joviality in his voice and fought the sudden urge to stand up, nudge his legs open, and ease between them just to make him feel better. He looked handsome and strong but the vulnerability, the helplessness in his voice touched a spot in her she couldn’t ignore. He needed comfort. She sensed it as if she’d known him forever.
Touching her itching fingers to the stem of her glass, Michelle resisted the urge to tell him that he was doing the best he could and he should take a moment to chill out—or heat up. With her. On her. Over her.
Clearing her throat, she lifted her glass and drank. “Um, no. No job, no apartment, and a limited amount of cash. But before you think I’m totally out of my mind, my decision to come here wasn’t rash.”
“No?”
She shook her head. “It’s been a dream of mine for a long time but my mother gave me the final nudge to do it.”
He smiled. “You don’t strike me as the type of person who needs her mother’s nudging.”
She met his eyes, saw the teasing in those baby-blues, and felt her center pulse. “And what type of person do I strike you as, Mr. Lawyer Man?”
For a long moment, he said nothing, his eyes darkening to such a feral shade of lust that Michelle’s heart hammered in her chest. His smile was slow and so damn sexy.
“You strike me as the type of person who does what she wants, when she wants, and with whom she wants.”
She stared wide-eyed at the success of her masquerade. “Do I?”
“Uh-huh. Am I wrong?”
Michelle heard the invitation in his voice, the innuendo, the suggestion scorching the air between them like a simmering fire. One more spark and the whole thing would burst into flame.
She blew out a breath, knowing damn well she’d never maintain the pretense with him looking at her the way he was right then. “I wasn’t that person until now.”
“What changed?”
“My mother’s infidelity.” She lifted her hair off the back of her neck. “She’s been cheating on my father for a while, it turns out.”
“Ah.” His gaze lingered at her bared neck.
She raised her eyebrows. “From the sound of that ‘ah’, you’ve experienced it, too. Infidelity, I mean.”
He moved his gaze from her neck to the bar, taking another slug on his bottle. “It hasn’t happened to me, but I’ve seen enough casualties of it to imagine what it’s like to be on the receiving end.”
She looked into her glass. “Want to tell me about it?”
“Maybe. But not right now.”
Not right now? Her stomach tightened and panic rushed through her blood. “You say that as though you expect us to see each other again.”
He met her eyes. “Don’t you?”
“I…” She did. She completely did. “Yes.”
He smiled and the silence stretched. Never before had she been so aware of another human being. Every inch of her skin screamed for his touch. The skin at his neck shifted and he finally broke eye contact to look at the bar. Clearly he was struggling with the intensity humming between them as much as she was.
The question was, did either of them have the guts to act on it?
“What sort of job are you looking for?” he asked.
“Restaurant work. I’m a chef.”
“Seriously?”
She laughed. “Yes. Does that surprise you?”
He shook his head. “Someone who looks like you should not be spending their time in a kitchen.”
“Someone who looks like me?” she teased, loving the easy way he threw her compliments. Back home, things were just not
done
this way.
His eyes zoomed in and locked on hers. “Blonde, beautiful, and eyes that scream ‘take me to bed.’ It’s not right…but if you’re serious, then I might just be able to fix your job situation.”
She had no idea whether to respond to his compliments or just move on as he had. No one had spoken so blatantly to her in her entire twenty-six years. She didn’t know if he was simply forward or just self-assured and honest. Either way, she could definitely get used to it.
She cleared her throat. “What do you mean?”
He drained his beer. “I mean my sister has a restaurant in town, and she’s looking for a new chef. A chef she hopes can pretty much run the place when she leaves next month to have my niece.” His smile could’ve lit up a football stadium.
She laughed, her heart twisting. A family man. “A niece, huh?”
He pulled his face into a comical “little boy” expression. “Hey, what can I say? I love kids.”
God, was this guy for real? “It’s great. You’re great. I’m sure you’re going to be a fantastic, if not naughty, uncle.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Naughty?”
Michelle’s cheeks burned. “Anyway…your sister’s restaurant. Why would she even consider me for a job? She doesn’t know me.
You
don’t know me.”
He held out his hand. “Sam Clarke. Nice to meet you.”
She laughed, shook his hand. “Michelle Hutton.” Michelle froze, waiting for the reaction. Would he know the “Huttons of Wiltshire”?
“Now we know each other.” He stood. “Shall we go and get your luggage?”
Relief shoved the breath from her lungs as she stared. “You want to go to see your sister now?”
He lifted his shoulders. “Why not?”
As tempting as it was to follow him out of the bar—and to bed—Michelle reeled her emotions and gut-instincts into check. “Look, thanks for the offer but I was screwed over in my last job. Being used once was enough. I want to start things the right way here, not end up broke and forced to move back home.”
“What happened?”
She finished her drink. “They used me to train another chef they could keep for less money, and then let me go. I didn’t come all the way out here to get burned again.”
“Fiona wouldn’t do that.”
She stood and tipped her head back to meet his eyes. At five foot seven, Michelle had never considered herself short but, even in her two-inch heels, he towered above her. “Maybe not, but I can’t take that risk.”
He stared. “Believe me, I appreciate your concern. I wish my clients shared the same human instinct but I’m being straight with you here. My sister and I came to Zante together because life back home was a pile of crap. We look out for each other and trust each other. She won’t do that to you, especially when I brought you to her.”
Feeling the too raw pain of her mother’s recent betrayal, Michelle shook her head. “Thanks, but I’ll try my luck on my own.”
“Look, at least come and see the place. What have you got to lose?”
Her stomach turned over at the sincerity in his eyes. He was a lawyer, a pro bono lawyer. She should trust him. He seemed like a good man. Yet, with everything going on her life, her defenses rose, warning her…trapping her and preventing her from moving on.
She shook her head. “Thanks, but no thanks.”
His crystal-blue gaze moved lower and lingered on her lips in such a way that Michelle’s stomach trembled. She opened her mouth to say something, anything to break the tension, when he looked away and opened his jacket. Reaching inside, he pulled out a small wallet and extracted a business card.
“Here.”
She slipped the card from between his thumb and forefinger. It was all there—address, phone number, email, even some letters after his name. Yet…
Michelle looked up and met the soft temptation of his gaze. “I don’t know.”
He raised his hands. “I’m legit. Promise.”
She smiled despite the screaming nerves ricocheting around inside her. “Don’t all men who talk to women in bars say that?”
“Maybe.” He held out his hand. “Come on, Michelle. Take a risk. Unless you’ve got somewhere else you need to be?”
“You don’t give up, do you?”
He smiled. “Nope. I’ve got no intention of letting you out of my sight.”
She met his eyes. There was no possession in his baby-blues, just a mile of sexy challenge that curled her toes. Her parents bounded into her mind. What had thirty years of keeping up appearances done for them? For her mother, it had led to lying and cheating. For her father, it had led to heartbreak and betrayal. Why not just live your life in the open? For good or bad?
The notion of being alone with Sam should have scared her, but it didn’t. It felt right - and that was the thing sending her mind and heart into overdrive.
She slipped her hand into his. “Let’s go.”
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