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Her dark brows pull together as she comes closer. “Why are you wet?”
“I—” I glance down at the front of my shirt where her eyes are locked onto the soaked fabric sticking to my body like a second skin.
I don’t want to tell her what happened. Don’t want to have to think about yet another example of why she should not be here. Because damned if I don’t want her here anyway.
“Did someone do this to you?” Her voice is barely a whisper as she reaches me.
“It doesn’t matter.” I wish it was the truth. I wish it didn’t matter that a woman I used to consider a friend thought I deserved an entire glass of ice water to the face because of a woman she doesn’t even like. But it does matter. It matters even more to me now than it did a week ago. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Why?” Her tone is sharp, eyes flashing when they finally come back to meet mine. “Because someone might see me?”
“Yes.” I begin unbuttoning my shirt, the wet fabric chapping my skin almost as much as it does my pride. It takes everything I have to turn away, but I need to get as far from Valerie as I can. There’s no way I can make myself send her away while the midnight floral scent of her skin tickles my nose. I’m not that strong.
Yanking my shirt open and free from the waistband of my trousers, I begin walking toward my bedroom but stop short, the monstrosity occupying the kitchen counter catching my attention. “Did you bring flowers here?”
She doesn’t respond.
I turn to face her.
Valerie’s honey eyes drop to my bare chest, a pretty pink flush spreading down her neck and across her collarbone.
“Valerie?”
Her gaze snaps to my face. “Yes? What?”
I almost smirk, but it doesn’t matter that she finds me attractive any more than it doesn’t matter that I find her fucking irresistible. “Where did the flowers come from?”
“Oh.” She licks her full lips, reminding me I’ve never properly kissed her.
And never will.
Valerie shakes her head a little before finally turning to the gargantuan arrangement. “The flowers are from you.”
“From me.” Realization dawns. “These are the flowers I sent you?” Fucking Arny. The damn things look nothing like break-up flowers. They look like the flowers a man sends a woman he has every intention of making fall in love with him. Or at the very least fall into bed with him. And I’m not planning on either of those things. No matter how much I wish I could.
Turning my attention back to Valerie, I abandon my plans of retreat, moving back her way as the situation racks up more questions than answers. “Why are they here?”
Her chin barely lifts as she stares me down, looking slightly offended. “Because you didn’t sign the card yourself.” She slides one hand into a pocket hidden in the seam of her dress, drawing my gaze to where it cuts dangerously low over her perfect tits. Tits I desperately wish I could be working my way toward tasting.
She holds a small rectangle between us, lifting her brows as if it explains her appearance inside my apartment. Her knowing where my apartment is at all for that matter.
I step forward and take the card from her hand, letting my fingers brush hers just a little. I know what the card says. I’m the one who told Arny what to put on—
I’m sorry.
Fynn
Fucking Arny. Three words I told him to write, and it would figure he’d leave the most important one off.
“I think the least you could have done was sign the card yourself.” Valerie’s voice is stronger than it was a second ago, and when I glance up her eyes are fixed on my face.
I should have signed the card myself. Then it would have had the entire message I meant to give Valerie, and she wouldn’t be standing here in the middle of my apartment staring at me with those damn whiskey eyes, smelling like dark promises and sin.
If I’d signed that card myself I would be here alone. Wishing she could be here with me.
I toss the card onto the counter beside the behemoth of a flower arrangement that would make most women swoon. Not Valerie Berdard. She’s pissed I didn’t sign the note myself. Angry enough to heft flowers that weigh half as much as she does across town.
I drop my soaked shirt onto the counter, squinting at the height of the stems. There’s no way these things would fit in anything besides a delivery van. I lift the glass vase, meeting Valerie’s eyes over my shoulder. “Did you carry these all the way here?”
