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8
Brit looked up at the ceiling. “You’re quite the lover, Dr. Forrest.”
Lying next to her, with sheets covering him from the waist down, he glanced at her. How many times had they had sex? Probably three. She should fall asleep, but each time he took her, more excitement brewed inside her, taking her to a high that only eased after they started kissing again. Was this normal? She’d had good sex before him, but with him it was better than good. Splendid. Breathtaking. Deliciously naughty.
“I’m just trying to keep up,” he said, winking at her.
She flushed. Leave it to him to make her feel like some insatiable nymph. Sighing, she stretched her legs like a lazy cat after a nap. “I should go home. I don’t want the kids to see me when they wake up and get the wrong impression,” she said. The idea of waking up next to him did crazy tingly things to her insides, but she had to be fair. Hurting his kids was not part of the plan, and if she ever slept over and they saw her in the morning, they had to be ready. Damn, he had to be ready.
He touched her elbow, the slightest brush that had the power of reducing her to a silly, hopeful teenager. “Don’t go yet.”
Don’t go yet, she repeated inwardly, as if those words unlocked a part of her that had been slamming the door to get out. When he’d agreed to keep his mind open about their relationship, she’d been glad, but this—the undertone of need in his voice, the way he clasped her wrist, and she felt his fingers tremble against her skin—made her heart sing.
She sat on the bed, and he disengaged from her wrist, but followed suit, sitting next to her. “Okay. Maybe a little while longer. But I can’t do anything, otherwise I won’t be able to walk or sit tomorrow.” Or drive. Libby had asked to sleep at grandma’s, a request she’d been pleased to fulfill to have the night free for Damian. Most of the night, anyway.
“Lucky you, you know a doctor who makes house calls.”
“Lucky me.”
The expression on his face shifted, and he touched his beard. “Hey. Before I forget… I wanted your opinion on something.”
“Shoot.”
“Candi O’Donnell visited my office today.”
Moisture evaporated from her throat, and she brought her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. What if Bill had been right about his suspicions and his wife, in fact, was interested in Damian? She chewed her lip. A strand of jealousy bolted through her, heating her veins. Don’t be ridiculous, Brit. He wouldn’t be sharing this bed with her unless he wanted nothing to do with Candi. “And?”
“She told me she might divorce him and wants to see the plans for the investment to see if she’ll agree to it.”
His words rang in her ears. No wonder Bill had asked her to keep an eye on Damian. The shrewd old man probably wanted her help to gather evidence leading up to his divorce. Her heart skipped a beat. And when she’d refused, he’d come up with that crazy idea to have her work alongside Damian in the project. One way or another, he wanted to twist Brit’s arm to get a set of eyes on Damian. “What? How is her divorce related to the investment he’s making?”
“She wanted to give me the heads up. He hasn’t signed the investment contract yet, and if he doesn’t, he will probably have other priorities if they get divorced suddenly.”
Holy shit.She let her arms fall to her sides. She’d seen the happiness in Damian’s eyes when he’d moved the needle one notch closer to securing the deal. Taking it away from him would crush him—he’d lost his wife, had to adapt to a completely new routine with his kids, then this. She even considered joining the team like Bill had wanted, if that meant securing the investment. Bill. Details of the conversation she had shared with Bill at his party popped in her mind, and she gasped.
“What?”
She rubbed her forehead. Shit. Go on and say it. “Maybe they are having problems. He asked me to keep an eye on you and tell him if you get involved with his wife.”
“What?” He turned his face to her.
“I know, it’s so silly. He even offered me money.”
“When was this?”
“During the party at their place.”
He angled his head, studying her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I was embarrassed he even asked me to spy on you. I said no, so I didn’t think it’d be a big deal anyway. I’d never betray your trust like that.” Besides, what good would it do? Perhaps Bill had drank one scotch too many and made the silly proposal. “Also, then you kissed me and well, I had other priorities on my mind.”
He scratched his chin. “He can’t think I’m involved with his wife.”
She reached for his hand. “You’re not.”
“Yes, but he must suspect it, otherwise wouldn’t have made this offer to you.”
She squeezed his hand. Any man in his right mind should be worried if his wife seemed too friendly with Damian—especially if he were less attractive and two decades older than his wife. “Yeah. I guess. That’s probably why he wanted me to work with you guys in the project, too. Maybe he hoped he could change my mind in helping him spy on you. Who knows?”
