reason to touch your body.” He stroked his thumb up and down, slowly. “It doesn’t seem like you mind.”
“Just because my body responds to you in some sort of sexual recognition doesn’t mean it makes sense for us to do this. We should talk.”
They could talk. And then he could make love to her. Worked for him. “Right now? My hand is going numb and I imagine your ass is doing the same.”
Kristine frowned, but she shook her head. “This isn’t over.”
He’d never thought it was. What should have been a fight and reconciliation had just ended with the fight, and he’d spent years wondering why. Did she even realize how loaded that sounded? “Agreed.” Slowly, he withdrew his hand. “Now just swing your other leg over and ease down. Don’t let go of the window until you’ve slid as far down the wall as you can, okay?”
“Got it, coach.” She drew up her other leg. “I would say this is inspiration for me starting an exercise regime, but that would be a total lie. I hate working out and that is never going to change.”
Frankly, Sean couldn’t imagine what hard-core athletic ventures would do to Kristine’s body. It would take away all those curves he loved so much, tone away the soft angles and make it not nearly as much fun to touch her. “You certainly get a workout talking,” he teased her. “You could have jumped out this window three times by now.”
She made a face at him. Then she slid down the wall, making tiny little exclamations of distress the whole time. Sean jumped up to grab the ledge so he could watch her and make sure she was okay. She landed on her feet and turned around and gave him a thumbs-up.
“Awesome job,” he told her sincerely. “I knew you could do it.”
She adjusted his pants on her hips and grinned up at him. “You know, it occurs to me that I am in a power position here. I’m free, but you’re still locked up. What if I just walk away?”
He snorted. He didn’t believe for one minute she would leave him there. “Bullshit, Kristy. You wouldn’t do that and you know it.”
But then he realized she had actually done that very thing. She had left town and changed her number. For the first year, he’d had no idea where she was or what she’d been doing until he had hounded her mother to tell him. But he hadn’t done anything with that information because, at that point, what was there to say? His frustration resurfaced and without another word, he dropped back down onto the floor.
What the hell had he been expecting? That he would show up at the gallery and somehow the past would all make sense?
Sean paced around and around the storeroom, checking his phone. No word from Michigan. He suddenly felt trapped. Which was stupid, given that Kristine was already out of the storeroom and he had gone to the gallery on his own initiative. He was simply on edge. The day’s events had been out of his control and he was never comfortable with that. He’d built a life around being in charge and he did not like how off-kilter he felt.
It didn’t help when the door was suddenly thrown open and Kristine appeared looking absolutely frantic. “Sean, oh, my God, someone vandalized the exhibit!”
She unzipped his pants and shoved them down with no concern for modesty whatsoever. “This is awful,” she moaned, bouncing around in her underwear trying to remove his pants from her ankles.
What was awful? Oh, right, vandals. Because from where he was standing, nothing looked awful at all. In fact, the view was downright mouthwatering. He was unable to think or take action.
Sean couldn’t even speak until his own pants hit him in the face. Then he forced himself to focus. “What do you mean, vandalized?” he asked as he dragged his pants down off his face into a ball.
“Get dressed.” She rushed to grab her skirt from the floor. “This is a nightmare. I’m going to be fired!”
The situation sounded like something requiring urgent attention, and the
William Stoddart, Joseph A. Fitzgerald