Free You Are the Reason by Renae Kaye Page A

things every now and then.”
    We fell into silence, standing with a good eight feet between us, not knowing what to say to each other. Belatedly I remembered that I still held my coffee, and took a gulp. It was stone cold, but drinking it was better than working out what to say to Lee.
    “So…?” he asked me.
    “What?” I quickly answered.
    He looked crestfallen and that just-kicked-a-puppy feeling washed over me again.
    “Can I call you?” he whispered.
    The wind whipping around us caught the words and whisked them away. But I heard them. I frowned fiercely. “I really don’t know, Lee. I really need a bit of time. To get my head around this.”
    I saw his pink tongue come out and moisten his lips again. I’d noticed that habit he had—licking his lips. They were plump and red, and I wondered if he knew how often he drew attention to those kissable pillows of flesh. He nodded. “I’ll give you some time. But not too long, okay? Text me.”
    He turned away and bent to pick up the cup he’d thrown away. As he bent over, his shirt and jumper rode up, revealing his arse to my interested stare. He wasn’t dressed to impress today—no tight clothing or sexy jeans. But my interest spiked. Yum.
    All too soon for my liking, he stood upright and turned back to me. I’m not sure what my face was revealing, but his face flattened in surprise. Then that little mouth quirk happened again, and that damned arousing little tongue came out to moisten his lips.
    “Call me, okay?”
    He took off back the way we came and left me wondering what the hell I would do from there.

Chapter 9

     
    L IKE ALWAYS , I turned to Mr. Magic 8 Ball. On Sunday night, after stewing for hours, I asked, “Should I message Lee tonight?”
    Ask again later.
    I sighed and scrubbed at my hands with soap and a nailbrush. In a desperate effort to distract myself, I’d decided that I needed a garden makeover. It didn’t matter that I couldn’t design gardens even if you pointed a gun at my head, and it didn’t matter that I didn’t know a plant from a weed. I had found a shovel and began digging out everything I thought was a weed. I had a garden that was dug over, hands full of blisters, but I was nowhere closer to knowing what to do about Lee.
    It bugged me that I was thinking about him so much. I should be angry at him. I should be so blisteringly furious with him that I never wanted to see him again. But I wasn’t. Sunday I had been angry, but by Monday I found myself more intrigued.
    Those goddamn pheromones.
    I found myself forgetting about the “you lied to me” bit and concentrating on the “can we have sex now?” bit. But I was also scared. Scared that the sex bit wouldn’t work between us. Scared that I would find Lee a different person, now that he was a guy.
    Monday morning I consulted Mr. Magic 8 Ball again.
    “Should I message Lee this morning?”
    Very doubtful.
    I sighed in relief and went to work. The company I worked for, Everett Manufacturing, produced various metal items, including fabricated sheet metal, and I was responsible for drumming up new customers and keeping the existing ones happy. It was extremely competitive, sometimes stressful, and never boring. My job was to visit around the client sites, check to see our products were making it to where they needed to go, and sign up more sales while I was there. I would spend a couple of hours a day on the computer on e-mails and customer inquiries, but the rest of the time I would be in my company van, either making smaller deliveries or driving to meet prospective clients.
    Mondays were usually hell, as many clients worked the weekend. There was a buildup of e-mails, but I powered through. Then I went visiting. Maybe I was being a little aggressive toward the clients, but it turned out to be a good thing. I hammered home three new contracts, found two new clients, and diverted a disaster.
    And I didn’t think of Lee all day.
    Only twice.
    Or maybe three times.
    An