And The Winner Gets...Married!. Metsy Hingle
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was just being kind. Don’t read anything into it.
Kim repeated the words like a litany—just as she had been doing since she’d left the office hours earlier. Not that it seemed to be doing her much good, she admitted. Because, try as she might, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the way Justin had been looking at her just before Tom’s arrival. Not as a boss would, but the way a man looks at a woman. A woman he wants. And she’d felt the heat of those oh-so-serious hazel eyes trained on her like a caress.
Even now, just remembering that look in his eyes made her shiver with excitement, with longing. Despite her limited experience with men, she knew desire when she saw it. And it had been desire she’d read in Justin’s eyes. Desire for her.
Her. Plain, polite and boring Kimberly Lindgren.
A ripple of pleasure raced over Kim even as that nagging voice inside her reared its head and warned her not to be foolish, not to delude herself by believing that Justin would ever see her as anything more than his assistant.
Be realistic, she told herself. The man was a Connelly. A member of one of Chicago’s most prestigious families. Wasn’t he just voted one of the city’s most eligible bachelors? The man dated models, socialites, gorgeous women—not nobody secretaries with less than sterling pedigrees.
But, lying in the darkness of her bedroom with morning still hours away and her thoughts so filled with Justin, she ignored the warning voices. For once she didn’t want to be the sensible and level-headed Kim Lindgren. Instead she wanted to relish the memories of how Justin had looked at her, touched her. Snuggling beneath the covers, she squeezed her eyes shut and allowed herself to relive those magical moments at the office with him. The feel of his hands—so strong, yet gentle. The warmth of his breath tickling her neck as he stood behind her. The hot, hungry look in his eyes when she’d turned around and met his gaze.
Kim clasped her hands to her throat as the image of his face swam before her closed lids. He’d been standing so close to her, close enough that she could see the faint trace of stubble darkening his chin. Close enough for her to smell the woodsy and spicy scent that he always wore. Close enough for her to feel the warmth of his body just inches from her own.
Her heart raced. That ache she got low in her belly whenever she dreamed of how it would be to have Justin hold her in his arms, to have him tell her that he loved her as she loved him, started anew. “And the chances of that ever happening are about as likely as Chicago getting snow in July,” she muttered as sanity returned at last.
Grabbing her pillow, she flopped over onto her stomach and ordered herself to go to sleep. And in sleep she allowed herself to play out the fantasy as she never dared do when she was awake. In the safety of slumber she imagined the feel of his mouth—hot and hungry on hers—tasting her, filling her, and then the sound of his voice as he whispered words of love and called out over and over, “Kim…Kim…”
“Kim? Kim, did you hear me?”
The impatient note in Justin’s voice startled Kim from her musings. Embarrassed to be caught daydreaming, she looked up and found a somber Justin standing in front of her desk. “Sorry. What was that?”
“I asked if you had a chance to draft that memo of understanding for my meeting with Schaeffer on Friday.”
The all-business note in his voice lashed at her like a whip. “It’s on your desk in your in basket,” Kim answered, doing her best to match his cool tone.
“Good,” he grumbled, and started toward his office only to pause and look back at her. “Are you feeling all right? You seemed…distracted.”
Kim flushed. “I’m fine. I’ve just had my mind on putting together that date package for the bachelor auction so I can messenger it over to your sister today,” she told him, opting for the half-truth. She had been working on the package, but it hadn’t been the real source of her distraction. Justin had—or rather she’d been busy daydreaming that she was the lucky woman who would get to share the date with him.
He groaned. “Don’t remind me. I still can’t believe I let Tara convince me to go through with that thing instead of just sending a check.”
“Your sister’s very persuasive.”
“Pushy is more like it.”
Deciding not to comment on what seemed to be a family trait, she pointed out, “It is for a good cause.”
“Which is the only reason I agreed to do it in the first place,” he informed her, and mumbled something about needing to have his head examined because he’d probably be changing clothes in the limo to get to the thing on time.
Given Justin’s reluctance to participate in the auction, Kim suddenly questioned her decision to follow Tara’s advice and make the date one that she herself would find appealing. “Do you want to take a look at what I put together as your date package?” she asked, and picked up the envelope that contained a certificate that detailed a romantic sailing date on Lake Geneva.
“I’m sure it’s fine,” he told her, and started again toward his office.
“It’ll only take a minute to look it over, and I’d—”
“I said it’s fine,” Justin snapped.
Kim clamped her lips together and remained silent.
Justin sighed, rammed a hand through his hair. “Listen, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bite your head off. It’s just that…I have a lot on my mind at the moment.”
“I understand,” Kim replied, still stinging from his sharp tone. She did understand that Justin worked much too hard, that he demanded too much of himself. In the six months that she’d worked with the man, she had seen him in a number of stressful situations. But never once during that time had he ever raised his voice to her or spoken to her as he had a moment ago. Even worse, she hadn’t realized until now just how vulnerable she was to him or how much he could hurt her.
Was it because of last night? she asked herself. Had he somehow picked up on her feelings for him and was now uncomfortable with her?
Mortified at the thought that Justin might know she was in love with him, Kim wished she could simply disappear.
“Kim, I really am sorry,” he told her again, his expression softening. “The last thing I would ever want to do is hurt you.”
Kim nodded and averted her gaze, afraid she would see pity in his eyes, afraid of what he would see in hers.
He stood there a moment longer, then said, “I’ll be in my office the rest of the afternoon. Please hold my calls.”
“But what about the lunch with your father?”
“I canceled it so I could work on this Schaeffer deal. I’ll need to schedule some time with him when I get back from New York.”
“I’ll take care of it,” she advised him, pleased that her voice could sound so professional and detached when inside she still felt raw, exposed.
“Thanks,” he said, and disappeared inside his office.
But the instant the door closed behind him, Kim lost some of the starch in her spine. So much for any notions that something had happened between them last night, she thought. Hoping that Justin might finally have begun to see her as more than just his assistant was obviously nothing more than a fantasy on her part. A fantasy that bore a painful resemblance to her mother’s string of hopeless romances. She’d adored her mother, missed her still. But as much as she had loved her, she had hated the constant highs and lows caused by her mother’s endless quest to find Mr. Right.
Evidently she had more of Amanda Lindgren’s penchant for impossible dreams than she’d thought, Kim decided. Thank heavens she also possessed enough common sense and pride to choke a mule. Whatever change she’d thought she’d detected in Justin’s attitude toward her last night, it obviously wasn’t romantic in nature. There hadn’t been anything