More Than Anything (Broken Pieces #1)(67)

Chapter Eleven

He was sitting on the porch steps—coffee mug in hand—waiting for her the following morning, and Tina fought to keep her expression neutral. Difficult, when all she wanted to do was grin like an idiot. She hadn’t felt capable of dealing with his presence immediately after her nightmare, but that didn’t mean she never wanted to see him again. Not after everything else that had happened last night.

“Morning,” he said in greeting, his eyes uncertain and his voice lacking that usual cocky confidence.

“Hey. There’s fresh coffee in the pot if you’re interested,” she offered insouciantly and was rewarded with an eager smile.

“Fantastic,” he enthused, tossing the contents of his mug to the grass below the porch before leaping agilely to his feet. He was in and out of the house, with a freshly filled mug, in thirty seconds. Instead of heading back to the step, he sat down next to her and placed his arm behind her shoulders along the back of the swing.

Tina didn’t say a word, snuggling to his side and dropping her head on his shoulder with a soft, contented little sigh. God, he smelled divine. She buried her nose in his neck, allowing the earthy masculine scent, reminiscent of green forests, sandalwood, and expensive leather, to envelop her entirely.

He tensed for a microsecond before he relaxed and dropped his arm over her shoulders. His fingers inevitably found her hair—he did seem to love toying with her hair—and idly wound their way through some of the fine curls that had escaped her ponytail.

They said nothing for a long time. Harris sipped and sighed as he drank his coffee, and Tina found herself comforted by the now-familiar sounds of enjoyment he made. She kept her eyes on the horizon—clear for the first time in days—and allowed herself to believe, just for one perfect moment, that this evanescent thing between them was sustainable.

“Pretty,” Harris said quietly as they watched the sun put on a spectacular show of light and color for them.

“Yes,” Tina agreed, not feeling particularly chatty this morning.

“It’s going to be a nice day,” he continued.

“Yes.” It did look like it would be a good day: mild temperature, with not a cloud on the horizon. There was no trace—other than the wonderful fresh, wet smell of grass and glittering drops of moisture on the leaves and plants—of yesterday’s rain.

“Tina—”

Sensing that he was about to steer the conversation in an unwanted direction, Tina pushed to her feet. “I have to get ready for work,” she said, and he scowled, not bothering to hide his disappointment and frustration from her.

“You can’t evade the subject forever,” he said.

“I sure as hell can give it my best go,” she said flippantly, then instantly regretted her attempt at humor when she saw the muted anger in his eyes. She shut her eyes and drew in a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m sorry. I’m not great at talking about stuff.”

“I’m not either, but I think . . . if we want this to work. We have to make exceptions.”

“Harris, there’s too much history between us for this to be anything other than what it is right now.”

“And what exactly is it?”

“Sex.”

“I don’t agree.”

“That’s your prerogative, but if you’re expecting much more from me, you’re setting yourself up for disappointment. I have to get ready. I’ll see you later.” She half turned to walk away, but he stopped her.

“Wait. Tina . . .”

She looked back at him, and he surprised her by slanting a completely roguish grin at her. “What?”

“Gimme a kiss?” His voice was so ridiculously, and boyishly, hopeful that Tina was helpless to do anything but comply. She made her way back to the swing, and he watched her with predatory intent. Her lips parted in an unconsciously seductive smile, and she bent at the waist to drop a completely chaste kiss on his waiting mouth.

He growled, obviously unhappy with the dry little peck, palmed the back of her head beneath her high ponytail, and deepened the kiss. Tina’s knees turned to jelly when his tongue deftly slipped into her mouth, and she gasped when it drew hers out for a quick bout of thrust and parry before he ended the kiss without warning.

Tina wobbled before righting herself almost immediately. She stood upright and smoothed her damp palms down her pajama-covered thighs.

“Remember that when you think of me,” he said, his smile filled with lazy confidence. “That . . . and this.” He cupped his straining erection through the thick fabric of his jeans, and she unconsciously licked her lips before lifting her eyes back up to his. He was still smiling. Arrogant bastard.

“Definitely,” she responded, her voice hoarse with desire. “And you remember you still owe me a taste of that.”

The smug smile disappeared from his face and leaped to hers. She waggled her fingers at him and walked away.

“You have a visitor, boss,” Ricardo announced after interrupting Tina’s solitaire session halfway through their afternoon service. After a half an hour of schmoozing random patrons that morning, Tina had retreated to her office. She had opened her laptop, brought up her daily sales reports, and taken one quick panicked look at the numbers before minimizing the accounting program and opening up her card game instead. She’d played about seven games back-to-back before Ricardo’s interruption.