Chapter Two
CHAPTER TWO
Malcolm parked in the space allocated for his houseboat and turned off the ignition. Beside him, Josie was sleeping in the passenger seat, her head leaning against the window, one leg tucked up beneath the other.
He decided it would be best to let her sleep for a few more moments. He needed time to not only figure out how this balls-up had happened in the first place, but also how to best deal with it. Especially given that he hadn’t exactly been his most charming self so far today.
Since that moment in Mari’s bookstore when he’d received a call letting him know that a deal he’d been chasing for a decade—and had all but given up on—was in play, he’d been working toward the biggest deal of his career. He didn’t need more money—he could never spend all he already had and gave a great deal to charity. However, there was a sense of satisfaction in knowing he could turn a local brand into a global leader. His second-in-command, Genevieve (call her Jenny and be prepared to lose a body part), had been working even more tirelessly than he on the deal and had hit a snag. Genevieve Duvall didn’t often come to him, only when she was truly stuck. But she’d come to him this morning with news that the brand owner was having second thoughts.
“They don’t want to grow too fast,” she told him. “I explained that we’ve done the research and they are ready, but let’s face it, the wonder boy who invented House in a Box is more interested in saving the world than in reading financial projections.”
“Can’t he see that we’re helping him save the world?” Malcolm exploded in frustration.
“Apparently not,” she replied in crisp tones that barely covered her own annoyance.
His workday had started badly and quickly become worse. The CEO and owner of House in a Box (and the man who held far too many roles there) was feeling under pressure. “I’m sorry, mate,” he said in his thick Kiwi accent, “but I don’t want to grow too fast so we crash and burn.” Then he’d abruptly ended the call, as there was some emergency he had to deal with.
Kieran Taylor had too few staff. It was one of the things Malcolm, Genevieve, and their team would fix. What Kieran also had was a brilliant concept—small-footprint, eco-friendly homes that could be shipped in a box and put together for a price that was lower than most garages cost to build. He was a visionary who wanted to help overpopulated cities, poor people who hadn’t previously been able to dream of owning their own home, and even people who wanted to put a home in their backyard for their aging parents or grown-up kids.
Malcolm had every intention of making House in a Box a global brand, and he shared Kieran’s vision of genuinely helping people and the planet into the bargain. He had a feeling he’d be jumping on a plane to Christchurch before he was much older. Both he and Genevieve, who’d busted her butt pulling in investors to help Kieran take his vision global.
For pride’s sake, and for Genevieve, he didn’t want to see this deal fail at the last second.
And then Mari had called from the bookstore, pleading with him to pick up a woman named Josie at the airport and take her to his houseboat. He’d been happy to lend the houseboat—he rarely had time to go there these days—but did he have to play chauffeur too? Didn’t she know that his days at the office started at six in the morning and usually ended more than fourteen hours later? But when she’d explained that she’d already tried every other person in his family and that he was her very last resort before calling an impersonal car service to do the pickup, that had grated too. Why was he the last on her call list?
Of course, he knew precisely why. Mari not only knew how busy he was, she also knew that he could be a grumpy git at the best of times.
He ran a hand over his face, the ridiculously low number of hours he had been sleeping lately finally catching up with him. He was lucky that he never needed much sleep. Even for him, however, the four hours he’d been getting each night during the past week weren’t cutting it.
It should have been a good thing that he had a vacation to Thailand to look forward to, but even that was a mess. All because the woman he was supposed to go to Thailand with… Well, to put it bluntly, he wasn’t sure he even wanted to have dinner with her anymore, let alone spend a week in a foreign country with her.
It wasn’t that Katrina wasn’t beautiful, because she was quite possibly one of the most stunning women he’d ever dated. Unfortunately, it turned out that he needed more than looks to keep from being bored, a lesson he had learned—or rather had failed to learn—from one relationship to the next.
A part of him wondered if he should just suck it up and make it through the week in Thailand before telling Katrina that he thought there was someone better out there for her. You know, the whole “it’s not you, it’s me” speech.
But frankly, he wasn’t sure he’d make it through the flight to Thailand with her vacuous conversation, let alone a week on a beach. Inevitably, he’d want to parasail or trek through the jungle, and she’d complain that he wasn’t spending enough time with her, even though she’d be spending all of her time in a bikini on a chaise longue, scrolling through her social media feeds and posting pictures intended to make everyone who followed her jealous.
If she would read a book on the beachfront lounger, that wouldn’t seem nearly as bad. But no one he dated ever seemed to read. It was a pity, because when Malcolm wasn’t at the office, or hanging out with his family, the one thing he liked to do was read. Books about military history and business, mostly, along with a few novels.
In deep contrast to all of the women he had dated over the years, Josie had packed an entire suitcase with books. And the truth was that he didn’t remember much about her from high school beyond two things.
She’d always been reading.
And he had kissed her.
A kiss he had wanted to apologize for ever since.
Not actually the kiss, which had been surprisingly good as far as he could remember through his beer goggles. It was what had come after.
Oh man. After.
It hadn’t been pretty.
For so many years afterward, he’d thought about trying to look her up so that he could apologize. But he never had. Because what could he have said to her beyond, I was that British bloke in high school who completely messed with you at the prom, and I’ve felt bad about it ever since.
There was nothing he could say to make up for what he’d done, and it seemed more cruel to bring it up again. At least, that’s what he told himself at two a.m. on nights when he couldn’t sleep and the memories came back, making him feel like the biggest arsehole in the world.
Josie stirred, and since he didn’t want her to think he’d been staring at her like some weird stalker while she slept, he got out of the car and went to lift her luggage out of the backseat, which was the only place in his sports car where her bags would fit. He drove a vehicle meant for racing down the autobahn , not picking up people at the airport.
She stirred again as he pulled out the suitcases, then yawned and rubbed her eyes, looking around as though she had no clue where she was. Transatlantic flights could be brutal, especially if you weren’t a good plane sleeper. He’d always had a knack for dropping off when he needed to, which was handy with all the business travel that came with his job. It would be nice, he suddenly found himself thinking, to travel for pleasure instead of business, at least once in a while.
Which was exactly what his upcoming trip to Thailand was supposed to be about. Just relaxing. But though he intellectually understood the concept of relaxation, it didn’t mean he was great at putting it into practice. Already, he knew what he’d be doing in Thailand. Not parasailing or trekking through any jungles. Instead of having any kind of adventures at all, he’d be on his computer dealing with email, or on a video call, or on his phone with someone back at the office or a new client he wanted to land.
The only time he didn’t do those three things was during meals with his family. His mother, Penny, had no tolerance for anyone being on the phone while they were together as a family, unless it was an emergency.
The one time he’d told her it was an emergency (it wasn’t), she’d taken the phone out of his hand and said, “This is Malcolm’s mother. Right now, he should be enjoying this meal with his family. He will call you back later.” Then she’d hung up and tucked his phone into her pocket for the rest of the evening.
Clearly, it was better for everyone if he simply respected his mother’s wishes. She was as kind a woman as they came, always ready with a smile and a laugh, always prepared to help you any way she could. But if you crossed her or made her angry?
Well, let’s just say it was best not to get on the wrong side of Penny Sullivan.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” Josie said as she got out of the car, yawning again. As she stretched her arms over her head, her sweater and jeans conformed to her body in an accidentally sexy way.
He should’ve looked away. Hell, he was trying to look away. But she had a stunning figure. She wasn’t overly thin like most of the women he went out with. Instead, Josie had curves in all the places he liked to see them.
Yet again, he tried to connect the adult Josie with the teenage Josephine he’d kissed at prom. She must’ve been fifteen at the time? And he was pretty sure she’d had glasses back then.
He never should have kissed her that night. But when the group he’d gone to the prom with had brought booze—and plenty of it—Malcolm had felt compelled to keep up with their partying. He grimaced, remembering being seventeen, drunk, and stupid as a brick.
Stupider.
Josie’s voice stopped his silent reminiscing. “The weather is beautiful here. I thought England was supposed to be rainy and dreary.”
“It’s a little white lie all Londoners agree upon in order to keep too many people from flooding into town,” he said with a smile that he hoped didn’t look as false as it felt. “Sure, there are days where it will be pissing down rain, but we get plenty of blue skies too. Particularly in the morning.”
As he dealt with her bags, he actively tried to be less cranky and more friendly. He’d all but bitten off her head at the airport. It wasn’t her fault that his business was having issues, or that he’d fallen out of like with his girlfriend, or even that he and Josie had undealt-with past history.
He grabbed both of her suitcases before she could stop him and walked down the narrow path to his houseboat. “What are you helping Mari with?” He vaguely recalled Mari had said something about Josie being a book consultant, but he wasn’t sure what that meant.
“I’m here to help Mari set up a reading retreat.”
Her unexpected reply stopped him in his tracks. “A reading retreat? What’s that?”
She must not have seen him stop, because she plowed straight into both him and the suitcases. Letting go of her luggage, he spun around to catch her before she tumbled back, inadvertently bringing her face close to his, her chest pressed against his.
He shouldn’t have noticed how good she felt, but it was impossible not to.
We’re a perfect fit.
As he belatedly became aware of the instinctive thought, he abruptly let her go.
“I must be more tired than I thought,” she said. “Sorry for barreling into you like that.”
“It was my fault.” He gestured for her to walk ahead of him. “My houseboat is at the end of this lane. Make a right along the towpath, and it’s the fourth houseboat, white with black trim.”
As she walked in front of him, his eyes strayed to her hips. Jesus, what was wrong with him? He was acting like a teenager again, almost as though being with her had somehow tapped into the seventeen-year old who couldn’t keep it in his pants.
It wasn’t like he went without. He wouldn’t use the word player to describe himself, although he suspected his sister Alice might. She disapproved of his behavior, even though he rarely had one-night stands, choosing instead to sleep with women he had dated for a while. Well, a week or two, at least.
Then again, Alice seemed to have this notion of true love. A notion that Mari and Owen had only solidified. Stars in her eyes. That’s what his little sister had. He hoped she got everything she wanted in life, and he was always ready to help her out if she needed it.
Realizing Mari hadn’t answered his question, he asked again, “Tell me what a reading retreat is.”
“It’s a vacation where all you have to do is read.” Though he couldn’t see her face as she walked in front of him, he could hear the pleasure in her voice. “If you want to read all day, perfect. If you want to read part of the day and do something else for part of it, that’s great too. But books are the center of the retreat. I don’t allow phones or laptops during retreat hours, which can be difficult for some people at first, but then they get used to being able to concentrate on the books and their own feelings. It’s magical.”
He couldn’t imagine being unplugged for as long as an hour, never mind a full day. As he moved beside her on the towpath, he finally saw her smile. She really was beautiful, especially when a smile was lighting up her whole face… because she was talking about books.
“It’s a tremendously nourishing experience,” she continued. “Though I occasionally work one on one with a client, the bulk of my work is running retreats and helping businesses, mostly hotels, set up rooms, both inside and out, with wonderful reading nooks all over. I help them stock their in-house libraries. And I also work directly with their guests as a bibliotherapist to help create lists of books that they’ll love.”
“I’ve never heard that word before. Bibliotherapist .”
“I didn’t invent it,” she said, as though he might be trying to give her credit for coming up with the entire idea. “There are trained therapists who work one on one with clients with depression, anxiety, PTSD, and so on, and part of the therapy is reading fiction, nonfiction, and poetry to help them work through their issues. But when I stumbled on the concept of reading retreats and went to one that made a huge difference in my life and how happy I felt, that was when I realized I wanted to switch careers from freelance editor to bibliotherapist. The one that I went to a few years ago was in Vancouver, not far from Coeur d’Alene. In any case, that’s probably more than you want to know. It’s just that once I get started talking about books, I find it hard to stop.”
She gave him another smile, one that made his heart beat a little bit faster. “It’s a really interesting concept, Josie.” He could see how reading retreats would be a great add-on at hotels around the world, in addition to the spa and adventure packages that already existed. He filed that away in the back of his mind to mention to his cousin Brandon, who owned the SLVN international hotels.
“Is this it?” She stopped in front of his houseboat, and he nodded. “Oh, it’s lovely,” she said. “And the name— River Star … Did you come up with that?”
“Whenever I’m here, I always find myself up on the roof deck gazing at the stars,” he explained. “The name just seemed to fit.”
“It’s the perfect name,” she enthused. “I can’t wait to see the stars from the roof deck!”
She was clearly delighted by his houseboat. So different from the last woman he’d brought here, whose lip had curled as she said, “We’re not actually staying on this old boat, are we?”
“I can’t believe I get to stay on a houseboat for two weeks!” Josie gave a little clap, obviously thrilled with it, but then turned to ask, “Are you sure you’re not going to need it? I feel bad putting you out of your home, even if it’s one you only use sporadically.”
He shook his head. “I can’t imagine a scenario where I’d need it for the next two weeks. You’re more than welcome to stay, Josie. For as long as you’d like, in case your trip here ends up being longer.” Still wanting to make up for being a jerk at the airport, he added, “And I apologize for being short with you when I picked you up. It’s been a bit of a day, with a deal potentially going sideways.”
“I was wondering if that’s what might have happened. Even before I knew you were there to pick me up, when I saw you, that was one of the scenarios that popped into my head.”
“Scenarios?”
Her cheeks pinkened. “I have this habit of making up stories about the lives of strangers. In airports, at the grocery store, in a bookstore.”
“That’s got to have something to do with all the books you read,” he noted. “Does this mean you’re a writer too?”
She shook her head. “I write when I have to—mostly emails, the shorter the better. But I far prefer spending hours reading rather than writing. Or talking to my clients about books. We start with the reading list, and then we talk about what they’ve read and how it’s helped them, and maybe we pick a few more titles.”
He laughed. “I like short emails too. That’s the beautiful thing about my line of business. I can send one-sentence emails, and everyone assumes I’m too busy to write more.”
“Wow. What kind of business do you run?”
He paused, trying to explain in simple terms what he did. He’d never found a simple explanation for his work. “I find businesses that are ready to expand globally and put them together with money. The latest one’s a New Zealand–based business. They have a line of small-footprint, eco-friendly homes that come packed like flat-pack furniture. Easy enough for anyone with decent DIY skills to assemble. Then they bring in a plumber and electrician to finish off the home. It’s been phenomenally successful in Australia and New Zealand and begs to be a global brand. I’m talking to finance partners in Hong Kong and New York, putting together the money, then my firm will help take the products worldwide. That’s just one of many projects I have on the go. It’s exciting, and stressful, and I’m never bored.”
“Just busy all the time?”
“I suppose I am,” he said as he unlocked the door to the houseboat, then handed her the key. “Welcome home. Why don’t you go in and take a look around while I bring in your suitcases? I won’t need to go to the gym after lugging the one stuffed with books, that’s for sure.”
“Sorry,” she said again.
“No apologies necessary. It’s all part of my airport-pickup service,” he said with a grin that almost felt out of place on his face. It had been a long time since he’d felt like smiling.
The moment she walked inside, she gushed, “Oh my gosh, this is better than anything I could’ve imagined! It’s like an apartment inside. I wouldn’t have guessed. So charming and cozy.” She peered out one of the windows, clearly delighted. “Seeing the river right outside your window is extraordinary.” She turned back to him. “How do you ever bring yourself to leave?”
Looking at it through her eyes made Malcolm feel as though he was seeing his boat for the first time. He remembered when he’d bought it. He’d been in his early twenties, and the boat had been this close to ending up in a dump somewhere. He and his brothers and father and sisters—whoever was available—would come over and help him rebuild it. Both Malcom and his family had put their heart and soul into the River Star . Malcolm had hand-sourced all the tiles in the kitchen and bathroom and around the woodstove from eclectic sellers throughout London. Even the soft furnishings had been something he’d been very particular about, knowing exactly what the ambience of a riverboat should be. He’d found exactly what he wanted in Cornwall—deep blue fabric with small seashells printed on it. Seafaring, but comfortable too.
Those first few years, he’d lived on the boat full time. He’d go to flea markets and source pottery and glassware from local artisans. That was when he began thinking about helping small-business owners reach wider markets. Using his degree in business, he’d begun putting together franchises, helping business owners find financing and international markets. Now he helped business all over the world grow their markets. Over time, he’d become so successful that he’d barely found time to leave his office in central London. When he did, it had been too much of a slog to come back to the houseboat late at night. So he’d bought himself a place in Clerkenwell, in the business district of London, then upgraded several times over the years to bigger and grander places with even better views. His current penthouse had a view of St. Paul’s Cathedral with the Thames in the background. And he rarely, if ever, came back to his boat.
A tug of regret yanked at him. Regret that didn’t make any sense. He had everything. More money than Croesus. Everything he touched turned to gold. Even today’s deal would be one he’d surely pull together in the end. The business owner, the investors, and he would make a sizable profit. His business was great, and so was his personal life. He dated the most beautiful women in London and had some good friends. He had a great family.
And yet, the regret was still there. A sense that maybe the path he’d ended up on wasn’t exactly the right path for him after all.
Finally, he answered Josie’s question. “This boat was a labor of love. It was ready for the junkyard when I bought it, and I fixed it up with the help of my family. For several years, I did live on it full time, until the commute to my office got to be too much on a daily basis.”
“If it truly was ready for the junkyard when you got it, then you did an amazing job bringing it back to life. It feels so much bigger inside than I could have imagined.”
“You’re right that it’s one of the bigger ones, with two beds and two bathrooms. When I lived here full time, I liked having family and friends stay over. And there was always room on the couch. But, like I said earlier, the roof deck is where the boat really shines.”
“It’s a dream to get to stay here, Malcolm. Thank you so much. I know I’m going to love every single second of it.”
“You’re very welcome, although perhaps we should talk tomorrow after you’ve spent a night here, and see if you’re still as pleased. The hot water can be a little tricky sometimes, and if the jet lag doesn’t get you, the birds will have you up at the crack of dawn.”
“Waking up with birds will make it even better,” she said with a very happy grin.
It struck him that she was remarkably easygoing, especially after the terrible welcome he’d given her at the airport.
Malcolm had never dated an easygoing woman. Suddenly, he found himself wondering if he had been searching out the wrong kind of woman all along. His sister Alice certainly thought so—she’d hated every single one of his girlfriends over the years. He assumed that was because Alice had nothing in common with his posh, polished girlfriends, given that she spent 24/7 covered in dirt and mulch out in the garden. But now he wondered if she simply had a better girlfriend radar than he did.
Alice worked at Kew Gardens, her dream job. Still, like him, she was looking toward her next step. Everyone in the family knew that her ultimate dream was to manage her own large garden. Something similar to the extensive and amazing gardens at Sissinghurst in Kent.
It was a dream he’d love to help her with. He often joked that he’d happily give her the seed money to buy a plot of land to grow her dream into reality. But Alice was quite stubborn about getting things done on her own merit, and he respected that. It always felt good to put your own blood, sweat, and tears into things. At the same time, asking for help wasn’t a bad thing either.
Especially given that if there was one thing the Sullivans were good at, it was pitching in for one another… and also poking their noses into one another’s business, whether they lived in California or Australia or England.
Malcolm had always counted himself very fortunate to have the unconditional acceptance and open arms of his family. Regardless of what else was going on in his life, he always knew his family, both near and far, would be there for him.
Josie yawned again, and he decided he’d better give her a quick tour of the boat before she fell asleep on her feet. “The tour won’t take long. Here’s the lounge. The woodstove is fairly easy to light and will warm up the entire space nicely.” He pointed out the printed instructions he’d taped near the stove for people other than himself who needed to light it. “The galley—” He gestured to the attached space that had a small peninsula jutting into it. “—is tiny, but it does the job. The fridge is also small, but comparable to what you’d find in a lot of flats. It just means you’ll have to stock up on fresh fruit and veg more often than you would in the States. And as I said earlier, the hot water can be a little tricky, but if you do a little dance to the gods when you turn on the water heater, hopefully you’ll be okay.”
She did a funny little tap dance in front of him. “Will this do?”
He laughed, surprised at how easily it came when he hadn’t been in a laughing mood lately. “It should do nicely. Now, if you’ll head down the hallway, you’ll see the guest bedroom on the right. It’s barely bigger than a coat closet, but will sleep two people in a pinch. And the bathrooms are back to back beyond that, the smaller bathroom for the lounge and the guest room and then a separate one for the primary suite.” He put the words primary suite in air quotes, acknowledging that it was a very tiny space.
The main bedroom contained a double bed with a top-of-the-line mattress, because while he didn’t mind being in close quarters, he insisted on sleeping comfortably. There were built-in wardrobes, built-in bedside tables, and not much else. The linens were cheerful and from the Cornish Drapery Company, one of the first companies he’d franchised.
She laughed and said, “I bet those build-a-house-from-a-box homes are about this size. And yet, it has everything.”
He hadn’t even thought about that and liked her fresh take on his latest venture. “You’re right.” Then he turned to her. “Too small?” He might as well do some market research while he had someone who was about to spend two weeks in a small space.
“It’s the perfect size, and I love it,” she said. “Every last inch of it. Especially the living room. With all those windows, the chair in the corner is the perfect little reading nook. In fact, this whole boat is the perfect reading nook. Now you’ve got me wanting to start reading retreats on boats all over. Wouldn’t it be amazing if people could be floating down a river while reading?”
He nodded. “Sounds good to me.” Then he said, “While I bring in your bags, why don’t you head up to the roof deck, where we’ll finish the grand tour?”
A few minutes later, they were stepping back out and around to the top. He loved the view from his houseboat—you could see Richmond Bridge from nearly every window.
“This is absolutely stunning,” Josie said. “I’m going to want to move here at the end of two weeks.” She took a few more moments to look all around her, doing a quick three-sixty. “Heck, I’ve only been here a few minutes, and I already want to move here.”
“I was lucky to get this boat. The good ones sell really quickly, but fortunately I have a mate who keeps his eye on the market, and I was able to buy it before it officially went on sale, even though it was a wreck. In other words,” he added, “I had to do my own little dance to the gods to get it.”
She smiled. “Let’s see it. I danced—now it’s your turn.”
Normally, he wouldn’t have been so silly, but she was right—since she had already done her dance, he owed her one of his own. He did a not-bad version of a soft-shoe dance.
Her laughter bubbled out and across the water. “That was excellent,” she said in a teasing voice. “Fred Astaire has nothing on you.”
“Ginger Rogers has nothing on you either.”
He found himself unable to look away from her… and he wasn’t positive, but quite a large part of him felt as if she was having just as hard a time looking away from him.
Belatedly realizing that the moment was more loaded than he had intended, he forced his gaze from hers, then gestured to the teak seating. “This is a great place to come out and have morning coffee, or watch the sunset, or just hang out and watch the boats, rowers, stand-up paddleboarders, and kayakers.”
She turned away from the view to look directly at him. “Really, Malcolm, thank you for this.”
“It’s my pleasure, Josie.”
He felt, again, that he should say something about what had happened in high school. But he didn’t know exactly what to say, or how to say it. And he didn’t want to ruin the easy camaraderie they’d found over his houseboat. Plus, she was clearly terribly jet-lagged, and in his pocket, his phone kept buzzing every thirty seconds.
He promised himself that if he saw her again during her trip, he would say something.
“Is Mari expecting you at the store right away? Or do you have time for a nap?”
“And here I thought I had successfully hidden my fatigue.”
“Those transatlantic flights can be rough,” he said. “You might find that an hour of sleep in a proper bed right after you’ve arrived will set you up nicely to get you through until it’s time to actually go to bed.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” she said, “but I don’t think I can wait that long to meet Mari and see the bookstore. Hopefully, the excitement will beat out the jet lag.”
“In that case, why don’t we walk over together?”
“Thank you for offering, but you don’t have to do that. I’m sure I can find my way. I know you’re busy.”
“No, it’s fine. I’d like to stretch my legs a bit more before I get back in the car and fight traffic in the city. And on our way, if you’re hungry, we could pick up a snack at the Elderflower Café. If one of the owners is in, I’ll introduce you. There’s a nice little community here on Elderflower Island.”
“That would be great.” She paused for a moment. “The thing is, I’d love to change out of my traveling clothes and maybe even hop in the shower to refresh myself after the flight. I don’t want to hold you up, but I’d love the company.”
“No problem,” he said. “I’ll wait on the roof deck for you. Take your time.” He held up his phone. “We both know this will keep me busy until you’re ready.”
She grimaced. “Okay, but I’ll still try to make it quick.”
As soon as she disappeared from the roof and he looked at his phone, he saw that in the last thirty minutes, a dozen emails and voicemails had come in. He had two personal assistants, but everybody always tried to reach him directly. His PAs dealt with the bulk of the email and voice messages, but he did like to scan through the messages every now and then, just to make sure nothing was being missed. Sure enough, New Zealand was calling. He had a good feeling that the deal was back on. He returned Kieran’s call.
And yet, for all the work that he had to do, he couldn’t stop thinking about Josie on the deck below, stripping off her clothes and getting into the shower. Seriously, he was like a randy seventeen-year-old all over again today. Except this time he didn’t have the excuse of wanting to kiss her because he was drunk. Nope, this time he simply wanted her.
Malcolm shook his head. He had no business wanting Josie, for so many reasons. First off, he hadn’t yet broken it off with Katrina. But even more important, he was exactly the wrong match for a woman like Josie. A woman who was sweet and nice and lived her life in the world of books.
With great effort, he forced his brain away from the thought of Josie in the shower with warm water and bubbles rippling over her smooth skin. Instead, he got down to business assuring Kieran Taylor that everything was going to work out and tried to ignore the fact that even as he did, there was a part of his brain—and his body—that was still hyperfocused on Josie.