Page 19 of Last First Kiss
For a brief moment, she had been tempted to fill up the extravagantly huge Jacuzzi and take a long hot bath and try to forget the nightmare that haunted her constantly. But she quickly remembered where she was.
At work.
She wasn’t at a spa. She was at a job. She needed to remember that.
* * *
“It’s not even seven in the morning,” she heard the gruff, half-asleep voice from behind her say. Refusing to turn around, frightened by what she would find, she pressed the button on the blender, which was clearly annoying him, again. Long fingers with surprisingly callused hands gripped her wrist, pushed her hand aside, and stopped the blender. “Jesus, Annie. Turn that shit off.”
Unable to continue to look away, she turned her head and it was worse than she feared. He had on low-hanging black cotton pants and no shirt. His lean body, with a light splay of dark chest hair she wanted to touch, was a foot away from her. Would it be coarse or soft against her palms? She swallowed and moved her eyes up his tanned body to his scruffy face and disheveled hair. A snicker jolted her out of her gawking.
“Annie?” He smiled at her with a knowing look, and she quickly turned her head back to her protein shake. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. What time do you normally wake up? I was hoping you’d give me a tour of the house. Do you have the architectural plans? And how—”
Those same strong hands were on her again, this time on her shoulder. “Take a breath, Tiger.”
Her heart beat wildly. She was notorious for acting hysterically when embarrassed. Funny thing, she could be in the middle of a desert with insurgents creeping around, and she was in full control. A handsome man called her a silly pet name and touched her shoulder and she became a lunatic.
“I, uh . . .”
“Are you okay?” He bent a little, cupped her chin, and moved her face so that she was forced to look at him.
“Yeah, fine.” She pulled away and busied herself pouring the drink into a glass.
“Wendy will be here soon, she can make you some breakfast.”
She tipped her glass up. “I’m good.”
“So, we’re doing the seven in the morning wake-up call every day? And you don’t eat solids? Got it.”
“I’ve been up since four. Went running, took a shower already. And I do eat solids. But I like to try and eat healthy when I can. I’m a terrible cook, so trust me, you’ll know when I cook. I’ll try my best not to burn down your house.”
“I’m offering you non-burnt food, you know?”
“I don’t want to impose, really, it’s okay. I lived off worse things when I was in Iraq and these really aren’t bad. They’re organic and this one’s chocolate. And I’ll grab some fruit too, so don’t worry. I’m good.”
“If you say so.” He shrugged as if not believing for one second that the shakes were tasty. But they really were. “Why have you been up since four?”
Her internal clock didn’t allow for her to have lazy mornings, although this particular morning had her up an hour earlier than usual. “Dunno. At five my eyes just open. But today, I guess since I’m not used to being here, I just woke up a little earlier,” she lied.
“Wow, well, something you should know about me. My eyes never just open. I need alarms, snooze buttons, and sometimes a good kick in the ass . . .”
“ . . . or a loud blender.”
He chuckled. “Or a loud blender.”
“I’ll try to keep it down from now on.”
“It’s fine. Really. I want you to make yourself at home. If waking up at the crack of dawn and drinking all your meals makes you feel comfortable, then do that.”
“Rocco, this isn’t my home. I’m not on vacation. I do appreciate you making all these efforts to make me feel welcomed, but I’m here for a job. We’re not friends.”
And there it was, she’d crushed his sweet spirit. The truth was, so far, she hadn’t seen the diva she’d expected from the first meeting they’d had and from all the research she’d done on him. Yes, he’d worn what seemed like excessively expensive clothes on the initial meeting, but since then he’d been casual, nothing formal in his style or demeanor. Even his house was underwhelming . . . in a good way. And, he’d been kind and hospitable. But she’d just crushed it. Stepped on it and spit on it. His demeanor changed before her eyes and she felt sick to her stomach at having hurt him. She couldn’t understand how her words could have any impact whatsoever on him, since they’d just met, but they had. Instantly he locked himself up and his eyes became cold.
“Heads up, Wendy’ll be here soon. She’s chatty but harmless. Try to be nice, if it’s possible. She’s a good woman who’s been through a lot.” He turned and went back upstairs.
God, didn’t she feel like a world-class bitch.
* * *
