Code Name: Genesis (Jameson Force Security #1)(40)

Yeah… my head was a mess and I was tired, so I declined dinner with Lynn and Harry. Instead, I opted for my favorite pizza. Kynan was quiet as he normally tends to be, but he still held my hand the entire way out of the studio and to my car since he’d driven us to the studio in it.

He opened the passenger door for me, but before I could slide in, he put his hand around the nape of my neck and gave it a squeeze. Adding to my confusion he bent his head and murmured, “You did great, Joslyn. I think we set the trap.”

His face was so close to mine. With his eyes like warm pools of concern and care, I thought he was going to kiss me for real.

But he didn’t.

He merely smiled and gestured for me to get in.

Now, my current game plan is to get out of these booties because while they look killer, they are torture on my feet. After that, I’m going to remove my bra, put on a t-shirt and sweatshirt, along with my favorite pair of beat-up sweatpants, then I’m going to gorge on pizza and wine. I will hopefully drink enough I can fall into a catatonic sleep instead of playing every nuance of Kynan’s words and actions over and over again.

In my bedroom, I head to my closet. It’s massive and decadent, with all the clothing and shoes on the perimeter shelves. In the center, I have a free-standing square dresser with a granite top that holds my lingerie and jewelry. After plopping onto a small tufted chair inside, I take off the booties and groan as my toes sink into the plush carpeting. I sit there a moment, my mind immediately wandering to the Cara Peterson interview and the kind and loving things Kynan had said about me.

Lies, right?

With a sigh, I force myself out of the chair. I have pizza and wine waiting, so I remove my jewelry—earrings, necklace, and rings—and put them all back in their proper places.

My eye catches on a blue sapphire ring nestled in a velvet trough in one of the drawers. It’s huge, emerald cut, and so big I rarely wear it. I had bought it for myself when I won my first Grammy, but that was years ago. I doubt I’ve worn in three times since.

I slide it onto the ring finger on my left hand. Cara Peterson had hounded Kynan once he announced we were engaged over the fact I hadn’t been wearing an engagement ring. I immediately jumped to his defense, telling Cara I had chosen not to wear it until we had officially announced our engagement but since the cat was out of the bag, I’d have to put it on.

This would work.

I hold my hand out, look at the sparkling facets, and hate the deep pit of longing within the middle of my stomach. I want this for myself—not for it to be a sham.

And not necessarily with Kynan, although I suspect that might be a lie. Again, quite confused over all these feelings. It had occurred to me recently I’ve shied away from relationships. Lynn called me on the carpet yesterday. Truthfully, what I thought was a betrayal by the man I loved had warped the way I viewed the possibility of true love.

Or, conversely, maybe I don’t believe in it and haven’t since the moment I was told Kynan cheated on me.

It’s been a shitty way to live, and I don’t want to do it anymore.

“Pretty ring.” Kynan’s voice comes from my closet door. He’s standing there, hands casually pushed into the front pockets of his jeans. He’s removed his blazer, and the t-shirt underneath is molded superbly to his body. Both arms sport full-sleeve tattoos, and I remember being oh so turned on by them when I was younger.

That feeling hasn’t changed.

Kynan’s gaze moves from my face down to the ring. He nods at it, a silent prod to tell him about it.

I shrug and take it off, setting it down in the drawer. “I figure we can use it as a prop engagement ring when we’re out in public.”

“I’m sorry that was so hard on you today,” he says, and I’m rocked to the core by the regret I can hear in his voice.

“It’s okay.” I shoot him a shy smile, for some reason incredibly relieved that it seems Kynan is truly done with being mad. I think part of the stress of the last few hours was knowing he was putting on such a show for the cameras but thinking under it all, he was still very much disgusted with my lack of trust in him before.

I don’t hear any of that.

I hear nothing but true empathy from him, and it touches me.

“Let me get changed and we can gorge on some pizza,” I say with a grin. “It cures all woes.”

Kynan pulls one hand from his pocket, then makes a motion with his index finger for me to spin around. “I’ll unzip your dress.”

The warm rumble of words—his commanding tone—all of it hits me straight between my legs. Shaking my head to clear it, I take in a long breath. It doesn’t mean a thing.

I turn away from Kynan, pulling my long hair over one shoulder to reveal the zipper. My ears strain to hear him, but he approaches me silently.

Then a large hand comes to my shoulder, warm and heavy. The other goes to the zipper, and he starts to lower it ever so slowly. He’s standing close because I can feel heat coming off his body. His breath hits the nape of my neck.

Is this a seduction or is he being neighborly?

I can’t help but snort at the thought, and Kynan’s hand stops midway down my back. “What’s so funny?”

Well, fuck… might as well be honest. I give a slight clearing of my throat. “I was just wondering if you were being neighborly by helping me with my zipper or if you were trying to seduce me?”