Page 36 of The Romance Line
As the ringmaster waxes on about the death-defying acts we’ll soon witness, she levels me with a stare that’s as sexy as it is withering. “This,” she says, gesturing to her face. “This is suffering right now.”
I smirk. “Good.”
“I had a feeling you’d like it.”
“Just like you enjoy my pain,” I toss back.
She pats my thigh. “It gets better. I promise.”
I glance down at her hand on the denim on my leg. Well,thatis better, truth be told. My body sizzles under her touch, even though it’s irritating, this reaction to her. But it’s especially irritating when she takes her hand away and I miss it.
How can one person wind me up and annoyingly turn me on at the same time? That’s the real feat of wonder and mystery—that the woman next to me in the snug blue button-up blouse with short sleeves that show off toned arms is vexing me every single second.
With a swish of her trademark ponytail, Everly turnsher gaze back to the man in the center of the stage as he says, “And now, the Amazing Valentis.”
The lights dim, casting a hush over the crowd. We’re wedged in next to the rest of the audience. A spotlight illuminates the center ring all the way to the top of the tent, where a trapeze drops down. A woman, clad in sparkling purple sequins and white feathers that catch the light, has one knee hooked over the bar. The rest of her hangs gracefully upside down. She rocks gently, then quickly as another trapeze drops down. A man hangs from the bar, swinging toward her, and soon he reaches her.
She grabs his hands and he catches her so she’s sailing under him.
Everly gasps. Gone is the sassy woman who needles me better than an acupuncturist. In its place is a woman awed by each death-defying move of a pair of trapeze artists. They execute them perfectly, then land on a mat, sticking their arms straight up in the air.
Everly claps loudly, looking like she wants to jump to her feet to give them a standing ovation.
The ringmaster introduces the next act—a juggler who tosses flaming batons high into the air. As he throws higher and higher, I lean closer to my companion, my shoulder bumping hers. “So you’re a closet circus fan. I get it now, Rosewood.”
She squares her shoulders, defiantly. “No. It’s just impressive.”
“Right. Sure,” I say, doubtful. “That’s all it is.”
She rolls her eyes at me. “You can’t handle the fact that I have a hidden appreciation for the extraordinary.”
“Next thing you know, you’ll be running away to join the circus.”
“Don’t tempt me. I might just leave you and the Max makeover behind.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “You wouldn’t. You like spending time with me too much.”
She scoffs. “Keep telling yourself that.”
“Don’t have to. It’s just a fact.”
With a beleaguered sigh, she looks away from the juggler, her brown eyes locking with mine. “Fine. I’ll take the bait. Why is it a fact?”
“Because you, sunshine, love torture.”
“Is this torture, Max? Is this really sweet torture?” she asks, leaning closer.
Her perfume swirls around me, seductive, alluring. A promise of sultry nights, and long, slow kisses that should never end. And I have the answer. Yes, this is torture. I’m entirely distracted by her scent. And I can’t resist stealing a hit. I shift toward her, catching another hit of it as I whisper in a gravelly voice, “The sweetest.”
She swallows, then blinks, like she’s been knocked off-kilter. “Good,” she says, but she sounds a little wobbly.
Like how I feel as my pulse kicks faster just from being near this woman. This attraction is getting to be a serious workplace hazard.
I’ve got to get a handle on this lust. I tear my gaze from her, forcing my focus on the juggler as he flips the fiery batons higher and higher still.
Everly stares hard at the ring too, like she’s also resetting her focus. Interesting.
At some point, though, she relaxes, watching the juggler again with avid eyes, then delighted ones. Everly’s enrapt. It’s kind of endearing, her joy in the show. That’s so not what I expected from this tough, fiery, fierce goddess of PR. But then again, Everly finds the bright sidein everything—even circuses. I tip my chin toward her, catching her eye as I ask, “Do you have a thing for jugglers?”