Page 54 of Burning Caine
“You barely know me. Just wait, you’ll see.”
“I would like to. Perhaps over dinner?”
The almost-smile faded, her mouth tightening into an almost-frown. “Antonio, we talked about this. You need to stop asking.”
How long could she deny our chemistry? Our similarities? The look in her eyes when she was near me? She hadn’t left yet, so perhaps today was the day.
“I told you, I’m stubborn.” I pushed off the desk and took a slow step toward her. “I like you, Samantha. Very much.”
“I’m serious.” She eased back against the door as I got closer, her breath picking up, gaze dropping to my mouth and back up again. But she was not serious. She was nervous and I could nudge her past that.
“As am I.” I moistened my lips, her eyes widening and body wavering slightly toward me. Three-date rule be damned, I wanted to kiss her. Grab her, hold her close, and taste every inch of her. I leaned against the door, arm next to her head, and lowered my voice. “Just say yes.”
Her jacket creaked as she placed a hand against her abdomen, the other curling around the door handle. The green of her stunning irises was practically swallowed by her pupils. “Antonio, I…”
When she paused, I took over, attempting to keep my words light. “It’s not a sin to confess your interest.”
Her free hand inched toward me, and I moved closer, tilting my head.
“I can’t,” she whispered, her fingers brushing against my stomach, a light burst of mint wafting from her mouth.
“You can.”
Before our lips met, before I found paradise, she squeezed her eyes shut, clenching her fingers in my shirt. Her words tumbled out in a rapid tremolo. “I—I’m dating Nathan.”
All the air rushed out of me, and I stepped away, my shirt snapping out of her grip. This couldn’t be. “But you said—”
Her face pinched, and she stood there, staring. Doing nothing more than blinking and breathing. I couldn’t read a single emotion. What was going through her head? ‘What a pathetic fool this Antonio Ferraro is. Look at how easily he falls at my feet.’
She turned suddenly, the long braid swinging behind her, and slipped out of the office. Leaving me two steps from where she had stood, with no more of her than the scent of her leather suit on the air.
I sagged into the nearest chair. Elbows on knees, I leaned down, cradling my head. She had said he was her stand-in big brother. Wrinkled her nose at the suggestion of dating him.
She had been my anchor for eleven years. My solace each time my heart had broken.
And she was a liar, just like every other woman.
Chapter 22
Samantha
Ithrewonthejacket and helmet without a word to Sofia and tore out of Ferraro’s, heading for the solace of my bike.
He’d been about to kiss me. The hairs on my neck had stood up and every inch of my body gravitated toward him. All except that stupid voice in the back of my head telling me he was all wrong.
Why the hell did I tell him I was dating Nathan? What was the matter with me? Why was I so desperate to put a wall up between us? Every time Antonio got too close, I panicked.
It didn’t matter. There was work to do. The Chagall Committee. They had to be correct. In 2015, they determined the painting was authentic.
I hit the highway in record time. The hum of the engine, my body cutting through the air, whizzing past the other vehicles in the passing lane.
I’d known a man like him before. Fell for him, even. Thought he was going to move here to be with me. But I was nothing more than a challenge. A conquest. One date, five dates, who knew? As soon as he had me on my back, he’d throw me away. Or string me along for months until he was tired of me. And then where would I be? Heartbroken. And still stuck in fucking Brenton, Michigan, forced to work with him unless I turned away all the claims that actually mattered to me.
I could call him. Turn around and go back. He kept asking me to dinner. Why couldn’t ‘yes’ come out of my mouth just once? The prickles started in my fingertips as I moved from lane to lane around the slow-moving vehicles. Why was everyone going so slow? Didn’t they know I needed speed to think?
I glanced at my speedometer.Shit!A hundred and sixty-five miles an hour. I eased off the gas and pulled the bike off the highway. Idling on the narrow shoulder, buffeted by the wind from passing vehicles, I stared at acres of corn growing under the warm summer sun.
Why would Antonio want me? A man who wanted to stay in Brenton and have his children work with him. He wanted a family. I had, too, once upon a time. Why couldn’t I have met him instead of Matt all those years ago? I tore off my helmet and rubbed roughly at my eyes. It wasn’t even about Antonio. It was me. Maybe it was time to assign Hailey to the Chagall claim.