About Last Night.... Michele Dunaway
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edge of the counter and gave herself a mental pep talk. She could do this. In Shane’s mind nothing had changed between them. He didn’t remember last night. That was a good thing. All the aces were in her hand. She could play them any way she wished.
Shane was still standing when she left the kitchen. She handed him the tall glass of ice water, and as their fingers touched a raw electric spark shot through her, the same type of shock that had jolted through her last night. Last night she rationalized her reaction to Shane’s touch as being from drinking alcohol. No such excuse existed now. She jumped back and stared at Shane.
“Static,” he said.
“Yes,” Lindy replied.
As he finished his sip of water she could almost see the clear liquid slide down his throat, and she swallowed, too. This man was pure charisma. She just needed to think of him clinically now. That was all.
“Thanks,” Shane said as he sat down on the sofa. “I was worried because you always call me back.”
He took another long drink before placing the glass on a woven coaster that Tina had brought back from one of her trips to London. “I really need to talk to you. I have no memory of last night. The last thing I remember is calling you. I did call you, didn’t I?”
“You did.” Lindy could admit that safely. Her legs suddenly unsteady again, she sat down in a chair located perpendicular to the sofa where Shane sat.
“At least I remember that much.” Shane raked a hand through his now dry hair. “I must have really done a good one last night. Look at this. My grandfather stopped by this afternoon and said I have a hickey.” He moved aside the shirt’s collar and showed Lindy the spot on his neck. “Boy, did I get a lecture.”
Lindy’s hand flew up to cover her open mouth, and for a brief, imperceptible moment she closed her eyes. During their passion, she’d left a mark on his neck. He’d been joined with her, and as he’d swept her along to another crest she’d reached up to kiss him, and…
Her eyes flew open and she jerked her telltale hand away from her mouth and put it in her lap. She’d been so carried away that she hadn’t stopped kissing him. The evidence was right there in front of her like a badge of honor on Shane’s neck. Horrified at what she’d done, she needed all her mettle to steel her face into neutral.
Shane leaned forward and took Lindy’s hand in his. The heat from his touch seared her, and she shifted uncomfortably as her body went into overdrive, once again desiring what it had enjoyed a little more than twelve hours earlier. Would she ever stop wanting him, especially now, after she’d had him? She had to try. She yanked her hand from his.
Shane frowned. “Lindy, how did I get this? I remember a redhead, but I know I didn’t do anything with her. But if I have this, then who was I with?”
Lindy’s heart constricted. At that moment, he looked so vulnerable. But she knew she couldn’t tell him the truth. How could she just say, “Shane, you slept with me. I’m the one you don’t remember. The one that left that mark on your neck.”
Yeah, right. He always saw her as good old Lindy. His PA. A pal. And what type of relationship would she have with Shane if he knew? Not the one she wanted. Men like Shane Jacobsen didn’t marry their PAs. Men like Shane didn’t even know what love was. They thought it was an illusion, a holy grail. No, best he never know the truth.
She gave Shane a narrow look, and he turned his big blue puppy-dog eyes on her. “Let me guess. You want me to find out for you.”
“Yes,” Shane said. “It’ll look awkward if I ask around. No one at the party needs to know I can’t remember. And if anyone can find out discreetly, you can. Please do me this favor.”
All afternoon, Lindy had replayed every detail of the previous night at least a million times. Now she mentally ran through the list of party guests again. No one had seen her get together with Shane.
She took a deep breath, steadying herself for the task ahead, the one that she had to do whether she liked it or not. “No,” Lindy said.
“What?” Shane’s head rebounded and the W-shaped furrow that appeared between his eyes showed his displeasure.
“No,” Lindy repeated. She drew another steadying breath. “Shane, I’m sorry, but this is not in my job description.”
His look of disbelief was Cary Grant classic. “You’re my personal assistant and you’re saying no? You’ve always handled my personal business before. Isn’t this personal business?”
“No. It’s purely personal, not business. We may have developed a friendship over the years we’ve worked together, but you’re my boss, Shane. It’s time each of us remembered that.”
“You’ve done it before, Lindy. Remember when you got rid of Janine for me? She was almost a stalker until you took care of her.”
“Perhaps, but she was interfering with business by showing up at the pool house.”
“And how is this different from then?”
“It just is. Look at you. You don’t even know what happened to you. That’s not my job, Shane, it’s yours no matter how awkward. From this point forward I’m not going to be involved in your personal life. Period.”
Disappointment etched his beautiful features, and at that moment Lindy knew she’d spoiled Shane. Long before last night she’d crossed the line between professional and personal. She’d become his confidant, his problem-solver and his sounding board.
But no more. Not after last night. She had to redraw the line. She was tired of the one-way relationship. She gave; he took. And since a two-way relationship was just a pipe dream, it was best if she drew the line in the sand and put their relationship purely on a business level once and for all until she found another job.
Nerves buzzing, Lindy took another deep breath and attempted to control her inner shaking. “And while we’re at it, Shane, you need to realize that I’m not planning on being with you forever. I’ve got career aspirations. I want to use my degree, not just schedule your dates and buy them roses or a trinket when you’re bored and toss them aside.”
“You can’t be serious.” Shane’s jaw dropped open, his look aghast. “You’re the best PA I’ve ever had. You can’t leave me. I need you.”
Shane needed her. Lindy wanted to cry at that irony. How she wished this was true. She’d taken Psychology 101 in college. Shane really could do all the work for his foundation himself. No, Shane craved attention, not her. Because of his family situation, he’d grown up wanting someone to dote on him, the way she’d been doing the past three years as his personal assistant. That couldn’t be her role any longer. Not after last night.
Lindy forced herself to look at Shane. “I’m the only PA you’ve ever had and I am serious. You need to handle your personal affairs, even if you don’t remember them.”
The jaw she’d planted kisses all over dropped open again. “You really know how to kick a guy when he’s down.” He winced, as if a headache had returned. “Happy birthday, Shane. Find out yourself who you did last night. By the way, I’m leaving.”
“You’re sounding like a spoiled brat,” Lindy said.
Shane blinked. “Only you can take such liberties and call me that.”
“But I’m right.”
He exhaled slowly. “Yes. You’re right I have no excuse except to say that this weekend has me out of sorts. Your news on top of the fact that I have this nagging suspicion that something happened is simply not making for a good day.”
Lindy cringed. She’d been raised to be honest and it went against her grain to tell even a small white lie. But she had no better alternative. In this case, the cliché did not fit. The truth would not set her free.
“Look Shane, maybe nothing happened. Maybe it was a gag. Did you