Page 21 of One Midnight Kiss

I stepped outside. The cold air hit my face and I welcomed it after the heat inside the coffee shop. It had been stifling at the end there.

Fox was not the man I needed to get entangled with. I told myself this thing, this weird feeling I got whenever I was around him, wasn’t real. I was projecting my feelings for the man in Paris onto Fox. There were some similarities. My brain was trying to convince me they were one and the same, looking for connections where there were none.

There was no way he could be the man I had been holding on to in my head for the past year. My Parisian prince had a French accent. He’d been kind and soft spoken, not arrogant and infuriating like Fox.

But as I walked away, I couldn’t help but wonder. I glanced over my shoulder and saw him watching me through the window, like a puppy hoping to get taken home.

He was staring at my ass. That should have pissed me off, but instead, I felt a surge of adrenaline. Deep down a small part of me wanted him to be that man from Paris, against all the odds and logic.

I continued moving away, determined not to look back again. The cold wind whipped through my hair, tugging strands free from the ponytail I had my hair up in for class. The wind felt good against my flushed skin.

I walked back to my house, my mind drifting back to Paris. My memory of that night was starting to blur around the edges. Maybe I had built him up in my mind, made him more perfect than he actually was. And why was I thinking about him now, anyway? Why was I letting Fox of all people get under my skin like this?

I decided I needed a distraction. Something, anything, to get my mind off the man. I did not want to be thinking about my client like that. I had to work with him. I couldn’t be thinking about him naked.

“Oh God,” I groaned realizing what I had just thought.

The more I fought against the thoughts of Fox, the faster they came in.

I was debating whether to take a cold shower or hit the gym even harder. I needed to exorcise him from my mind. I was not going to mix business with pleasure.

I got home and went straight to my shower.

The cold water beat against my skin, but it wasn’t harsh enough to obliterate the memory of Fox’s gaze on my body. Lather up. Wash away. Rinse off. Repeat.

Once out of the shower, I wrapped myself in a fluffy white robe and tried to lose myself in the mundane task of blow-drying my hair.

I went to the kitchen, popped a frozen meal into the microwave, and grabbed my phone. I did my best not to work on weekends. I didn’t want to burn out by spending all my time working. My creative juices needed a rest.

I grabbed my book and a can of Diet Coke. The microwave beeped just as I settled at the table. I sighed and got up to retrieve my meal.

I ate the pot pie while trying to read the book. Unfortunately, Fox kept creeping back into my thoughts.

After all the wild places my thoughts went, I doubted I would be able to look him in the eye next time we met.