Surrender (Careless Whispers #3)(84)

Suddenly, I’m not sure we are talking about art, and my throat is dry. I swallow hard and though I hadn’t decided I was really going through with it, I blurt, “I’m taking a summer job at the gallery.”

His light blond brow arches. “Are you now?”

“Yes.” I know it is the truth as I say the word. I know I’ve already decided I am going to take the job. “I’m filling in for Rebecca until her return.” I search his face for a reaction, but I see none. He is unreadable—or am I just too affected by his nearness to see one?

His hands are still on the lapels and he doesn’t move for a long moment. I don’t want him to move. I want him to . . . I don’t know . . . but then again, yes I do. I want him to kiss me. It’s a silly, fantastical moment—no doubt brought on by the journals—that has me blushing. I cut my gaze, feeling as if the heat in his will scorch me inside out. I motion to my car, shocked to realize it’s only one parking meter down. “That’s me.”

Slowly, his hands loosen on my—or rather his—jacket. I immediately walk to my car, willing myself not to dump my purse again. I click the locks open and I stop by the curb before opening my door. I turn to find him close, so very wonderfully close. And that scent of his is driving me wild, pooling heat low in my belly.

“Thanks for the walk and the jacket.” I shrug out of it.

He reaches for the jacket and takes it, and I hope he will touch me and fear that he will, at the same moment. I am so out of control and confused.

His green eyes burn hot like fire before he softly says, “It’s been my pleasure . . . Sara.” And then he just turns and starts walking, without another word.