One More Taste (One and Only Texas #2)(35)
The trouble was, every time she slowed down or closed her eyes, she saw him watching her from across the boat with dark, heated eyes. She felt his hand on her hip, holding her close. She felt the erratic beat of his heart beneath her palm. Compounding that, she genuinely liked being around him, which was perhaps the most dangerously sexy thing about him of all.
But instead of wasting her brain space obsessing over what could never be with someone as off-limits as her boss, she would have to train herself to admire his many attributes in the same way one might crush on a celebrity or a cute delivery guy—from a distance and in small doses. Until she’d retrained herself, the logical solution was to not slow down or close her eyes. Easy as pie.
Or, better yet, maybe she needed to do all of that plus start dating again. It’d been more than two years since a string of dates from hell had helped her decide once and for all that there were no men in Texas worth the time away from her career, her friends, and her peace of mind. She’d not only sworn off men, but makeup, expensive haircuts, pedicures, and shaving her legs more than once every couple of weeks. She was still on the pill, but only because it kept her periods short, pain-free, and predictable. The choice to do away with all the frivolity of dating had been a liberating decision, to say the least. Or, at least, it had felt empowering right up until her new boss arrived, with the hard-bodied, polished virility of an NFL quarterback, to remind her that, at her core, she was still a woman with needs.
But maybe if she kept the ground rules simple—nothing serious; just someone she was only mildly attracted to, someone she wouldn’t be tempted to invest her heart in—it wouldn’t take up too much of her time or energy. All she needed was a casual hook-up. Or two or three. She could get the physical connection she needed without the emotional or professional baggage. Between that and her work, she wouldn’t have time to sleep, much less slow down enough to think inappropriate, lusty thoughts about her boss.
Her embarrassing entice you comment to Knox that morning while serving breakfast had only made her more restless to get started on the solution to her dilemma. And what better way to start than consulting her best friend? Both of their dating skills were pretty rusty, but perhaps Carina was in the know about what the latest, greatest dating website or app was. Humming gaily, and with an admittedly almost manic skip in her step, she set off over the resort grounds.
She found Carina in the third place she looked, sitting in the bottom row of bleachers adjacent to the equestrian arena, watching Decker exercise a large horse the color of milk chocolate mousse.
When Carina saw her, her face lit up with a broad smile and she strummed her fingers absentmindedly on her massive belly. “Hey, you got my text.”
Er, nope. “I don’t even know where my phone is, actually. Haven’t seen it today. You know how I get when I’m in the zone.”
“I do. What I’d texted you about was that I’m getting the worst craving for your cheddar grits, but this time combined with that pickled shrimp and okra you made for the summer solstice cocktail reception last year. But this time, could you bread them and deep-fry them? Like, tempura style?”
Nasty. Then again, there was no accounting for a pregnant woman’s taste and pickled shrimp had been a regular feature in Carina’s cravings so far. “Sure. I can do that. Hey, listen. I decided something. I need to start dating again.”
Carina blinked at her. “Say that again?”
“I need to start dating. It’s been way too long.”
Carina made cumbersome work of scooting her body around to face Emily head-on. “Let me get this straight. You’re in the middle of the most important month of your life, trying to convince Knox to give you the restaurant, and you want to start dating—for the first time in years?”
“That’s correct. The sooner, the better. Tonight after I’m done with Knox’s dinner, if possible.”
“Are you familiar with the term self-sabotage?”
When Carina put it that way, the idea did seem self-sabotaging—but, then again, Carina hadn’t been privy to the X-rated nature of Emily’s imagination all week. Goddamn, she couldn’t even think the word X-rated without her mind crowding with improper images. Knox rolling up his shirtsleeves. Knox pulling off his tie. Knox’s muscles working while he rowed her across the lake in the moonlight. “Yeah, I need to get laid.”
Carina eyed her like she was crazy. Which she was. Clearly.
“I’m sure there are plenty of men at the gym who would help you scratch that itch,” Carina said.
Gross. “Not at Murph’s. Haven’t you heard the term don’t fuck where you sleep?”
“The phrase is ‘don’t shit where you eat.’”
“Same difference,” Emily said.
Carina braced her hands on Emily’s shoulders. “Emily. Sweetie. You’re going off the deep end. This challenge from Knox is messing with your mind.”
“Tell me about it. Hence, why I need a man.”
“Okay, if you could just stop for one second and look at me.” She waited until Emily met her gaze. “Thank you. Now tell me, what’s really going on?”
Nope. Carina was her best friend, but she was also Knox’s cousin, and so the last person Emily wanted to confess her lustful thoughts to. “I’m a little stressed out at the moment.”