Once inside my apartment, I rake my fingers through my hair and flop onto my couch.
My dick is still throbbing inside my jeans.
What the hell was I thinking? Kissing Kelly? That’s the last thing she needs. I sure as hell don’t need it either.
The woman has issues—serious issues—and I can’t interfere with her healing. I’m here to protect her. To help her. To see that no harm comes to her.
I can’t be that harm.
But damn…
Her lips are so full and soft, her tongue like crushed velvet.
Her body felt so good against mine. And now? All I can think about is what she might look like naked. That gorgeous fair skin, her plump tits, her round ass. Her shapely legs wrapped around me.
And she, looking down at me through those heavily lidded blue eyes.
Fuck.
Buck and Aspen are up in their place, screwing like bunnies.
Damn it all to hell.
I rise, head to my bedroom, take a shower, and take care of what I’d like to be taking care of inside Kelly.
Then, after toweling off, I fall into bed, naked. Morning will come early, and I’m going to need a good strong workout. I need a lot of release before I can deal with Kelly again.
* * *
I only knock once, and Kelly opens the door to her apartment.
I resist the urge to suck in a breath.
She looks—in a word—spectacular.
Her gorgeous auburn hair is swept up into a high ponytail, and she’s wearing a light purple blouse and black dress pants, as I suggested. On her feet are black leather slides. Good. I was afraid she’d wear high-heeled sandals or boots, and we’ll be doing a good amount of walking today.
Since I told her what to wear, I figured I shouldn’t show up in jeans and a T-shirt, so I’m also wearing black pants, black leather dress shoes, and a white button-down, no tie.
I try not to gape at her, but damn, she looks good. Almost as good as she looked in that miniskirt last night.
Kelly cleans up nice—and whether she’s going for professional or sultry—she can pull it off.
I hate to think of her this way, but it’s very clear why she was chosen to go to the island. Every woman I’ve met from that damned island is picture-perfect to look at, and Kelly is certainly no exception.
Again, I wonder about her naked body. What kind of scars she might have.
Because all of the women have scars—the kind that can and can’t be seen.
I will never see Kelly naked. The kiss was a mistake, and that’s my first order of business this morning.
To apologize.
“Before we go,” I say, “I need to apologize for last night.”
“Yeah, you really should.”
She’s determined not to make this easy. “I truly am sorry. I overstepped my boundaries, and it won’t happen again.” I check my watch. “Are you ready to go? I made a list of some restaurants in the area that are hiring.”
She walks out the door, carrying a small black purse, and closes it behind her. “Yes, I’m ready.”
“Good.” I gesture for her to lead and we walk to the elevator.
Our first stop is a delicatessen about a block away.
“Seriously?” She scoffs. “You want me to work at a deli?”
“They’re looking for servers. You won’t be slicing meat or making sandwiches. You’ll be serving.”
“I can’t make any money there.”
“Are you kidding me?” I gesture toward the front window. “Do you know how many seatings they have at this place? You’ll make plenty of money, and if you’re good, your tips will be great.”
“Fine.” She huffs and opens the door.
Even at ten in the morning, the deli is hopping. They do a huge breakfast and lunch business, according to my research. But already I see that this place is a mistake. It’s jam-packed, with people yelling orders behind the counter, and I have no idea who’s in charge.
So I grab Kelly’s arm and escort her back out.
“Excuse me?” she says.
“I agree with you. This is not the best place for you. We’ll be sitting around forever before we find someone to talk to you.”
“Good. I don’t want to work in a deli.”
“Well, you’re in luck. The next restaurant is called The Glass House. It’s one of the best restaurants in Manhattan, and they’re looking for servers.”
Her eyes widen. “The best restaurant in Manhattan?”
“One of the best,” I say.
“I… Leif, I worked at a diner in Phoenix. I’m not qualified to work at the best restaurant in Manhattan.”
“One of the best,” I clarify again, “and if you’ve worked at a diner, then you’re good on your feet, you’re quick, and you can keep lots of orders in your head at once. You can work anywhere.”
“But Leif…”
The sound of my name from her lips gives me a jolt. The kind of jolt I really don’t need around her. The kind that makes me want to do things she’s clearly not ready for.
“Hey,” I say. “It’s my job to help you. I’m not going to steer you wrong. Trust me.”
She scoffs.
I roll my eyes.
That sweet attitude was bound to be gone after a second or two.
“Why should I trust you?”
“That’s your prerogative. You don’t have to trust me. But the military trusted me. Buck trusted me. The citizens of this great country trusted me and all the other military men and women to keep them safe. But I don’t know, Kelly. Why should you trust me?”
She opens her mouth.
Yep, here it comes. More acidic words from this beautiful woman.
“You think I could do it? Wait on tables at a fine restaurant?”
Color me surprised. My jaw drops, but I close my mouth quickly to reply. “Absolutely. You worked at the diner for what? Five years?”
She nods.
“How did you do there? Were your customers happy?”
“If they hadn’t been, I would’ve been fired.”
“There you go, then. You look great this morning. Just keep your air of professionalism, and you’re going to be fine.”
She bites her bottom lip, and then she nods. “Okay.”
I open my mouth to give her a smartass comment, but I restrain myself. When she has these tiny sparks of niceness, I shouldn’t do anything to make them stop.
We walk a block, not talking, until The Glass House appears. The building is red brick and unassuming. I open the door for her, and she walks ahead of me.
She gawks. Here’s where unassuming ends. The host’s station is dark wood with ornate carvings, and beyond, the dining room is lavish with secluded booths lining the walls and round tables throughout.
“I…”
“Ask for the manager in charge of hiring,” I tell her, giving her a subtle push “Relax. You’re going to do great.”
“You mean… You’re not coming with me?”
“I’m not looking for a job. How do you think it would look if you brought someone with you to apply for a job?”
“Fine,” she harrumphs. “If you don’t want to help me, you don’t have to.”
“Oh my God.” I inhale deeply, practicing patience. “You know I can’t go with you. I’m going to stand right here by the door, and I will wait. They will either say yes, a manager will see you, or no, there aren’t any jobs available. Whatever happens, whether you talk to someone or not, I will be here when you’re done. If you don’t end up with a job, we’ll go to the next place.”
“I’m not a moron, Leif. I know how this works.”
“Then you know it won’t look good if I go with you.”
She nods then. Draws in a breath. Advances toward the door.