Chapter 12
DANIELLE
The rap on the door is unexpected, and I jump out of my skin, knocking the wine all over my front.
“Shit,” I mutter, fanning my shirt as I head to the door. It’s nine in the evening; who the hell could this be?
I check through the peephole to see Issac standing outside.
What the hell is he doing here?
Tugging the stiff door open, I look at him expectantly. “Issac?”
“Hey, Danielle, I’m sorry to turn up like this, but I had to see you.”
Holding the door open, I gesture for him to come in.
He strides past me, his eyes skimming the room before they land back on me and my wet shirt.
“I dropped my wine…” I explain as Issac nods, stepping closer to me.
His green eyes search mine, and I part my lips, wetting them with my tongue. “I’m sorry that I said I didn’t want to see you during your...marriage.” Issac reaches out, his fingers tracing my jawline as he shakes his head. “I didn’t think he’d ask you of all people.”
It’s been so long since anyone has touched me in this way, but is it fair to lead Issac on, considering I’m about to marry his best friend? For business or not?
“It makes sense, I guess. It’s a great opportunity for me.”
“But you’re his ex.”
Issac towers over me, and I have to look up at him to see the look in his eyes.
Jealousy.
“So?” I whisper, wondering what he’s trying to say.
Issac swallows, moving toward me as his mouth presses together in a thin line.
“I don’t want to compete with Blake James, Danielle.”
I lean up to press my lips against his, moving back when he doesn’t respond.
Oh, shit. I totally misread that.
“I’m sorry, I just—”
But then he tugs me toward him, his lips slamming against mine once more. It feels so good to have someone touching me again, but there’s no spark there, not for me anyway. We kiss for a while longer, breaking apart awkwardly.
“Issac...I don’t think this will work.”
Issac steps back, eyes searching mine as he nods.
Why don’t I want him?
“Oh.”
“It’s not because of Blake.”
Issac looks at me hopefully, his hand reaching out to capture mine. “Then give us a chance to get to know each other.”
I find myself nodding, and he waves at my wet shirt.
“Maybe you should go and change, or I’m not going to be able to think straight.” He laughs.
“Okay, give me a minute. Grab some wine if you want some.”
Issac wanders into the kitchen, and I hurry into my bedroom, peeling off my wet clothes. I opt for a baggy white tee-shirt, not attempting to be sexy.
Fucking Blake James.
My ex-turned-soon-to-be-husband.
Issac is a gorgeous guy with a kind heart and a great sense of humor. Maybe this is what I need: the slow burn instead of the instant ignition of love flames.
I have to give him a chance.
When I re-enter the lounge, I find Issac sitting on the sofa, one arm thrown across the back, the other nursing a glass of wine. He glances up at me, a playful smile on his lips.
“Do you look bad in anything?”
“Are you flirting with me?” I laugh, taking a seat beside him.
Issac hands me my glass of wine, and our fingers brush against one another. “Yeah, I am. Is it any good?”
This breaks the ice, and the conversation flows, as does the wine.
“Tell me about you,” I request, watching as Issac rests his elbows on his knees, an amused look on his face.
“I’ve got two brothers and a sister.”
Tucking my feet under my knees, I rest my face in the palm of my hand, listening to Issac.
“I grew up not far from here and left school with every intention to move to New York City. I wanted to be a big shot Wall Street guy.”
“Really?”
Issac laughs, easing back into the chair. “Yeah, it was that or join the mafia, and I didn’t have any connections.”
I snort into my wine glass, and he gasps.
“Are you laughing at me?”
Running my finger around the rim of my glass, I meet his eyes. His electric green eyes.
Eyes that are crinkling with amusement at my apparent awkwardness.
“I just don’t see you as a mobster.”
Issac huffs, lifting his shirt sleeve to show me his biceps. “You think these babies couldn’t help me out, huh?”
“Mobsters use guns, Issac!”
“Real men don’t,” he argues, refilling my wine.
“True.”
We fall into an easy silence, and I suppress a yawn.
My stomach lurches when I remember that I’m getting hitched on my lunch hour.
Like he’s reading my mind, Issac reaches for my hand, squeezing it gently. “Are you nervous?”
I nod, staring into my wine like it holds the answers. “Strangely, it’s almost becoming acceptable to think I’m getting married tomorrow, despite being single.”
Issac drops his gaze, and I squeeze his hand back, watching as he lifts my hand to his lips. “Are you sure this is what you want, Danielle? Marrying Blake for the business?”
I take in the sight of him, his full lips parting like he’s going to say something else, his eyes dropping to my mouth. His fingers play with mine, and I know there’s something a little more than friendship between us. “Yes, I think so. It’s not forever.”
“You deserve more, though, Danielle.” Issac sighs, pushing his wine glass to the side. “But I have to respect your decision.” He makes a move to leave, and I panic.
“Don’t leave,” I whisper, the thought of being alone terrifying me for some unknown reason.
Issac studies me, his brows knitting in confusion. “But you said—”
“I know what I said, and I guess I’m confused. I don’t know what to do, you know?”
Issac leans back into the sofa, bringing his leg up so it’s behind my back, beckoning for me to crawl onto his lap. “Come here.”
I do, resting my head against his chest as the rhythmic beat of his heart soothes me. “Some bachelorette party this is,” I mumble.
“This is your last night of freedom, Danielle. What do you want to do with it?” Issac murmurs into my hair.
“I quite like this,” I confess, closing my eyes.
“Then we’ll do this.”
His acceptance makes my heart melt, and I tilt my head back to gaze at him. “Thank you.”
“If I kiss you again, will it ruin all the effort I’ve put into this evening?” Issac asks, his hand cupping my face.
I know it’s not explosive. It’s not what I had with Blake, but look what happened there.
Is it so wrong to try?
“Go for it; I just can’t promise it will be worth it.” I close my eyes, feeling his breath against my mouth as he contemplates his next move.
“You’re worth it, even if it doesn’t work out. You’re beautiful, Danielle.”
“Don’t hate me.”
His lips answer me, and this time it’s me that’s more urgent.
When he slips his hands under my shirt, unclasping my bra, I don’t stop him.
I should, but I don’t.
I don’t want to.