Read Online Making It Last - A Novella (Camelot Series) by Ruthie Knox - Free Book Online

humble bone.”
    He peeked at the pointed toes of her heels and winced. “You’re supposed to take the shoes off when you play footsie.”
    She made her eyes round. “Oh? Dag. I’ve been doing it all wrong.”
    “Left a trail of emasculated men in your wake, have you?”
    “And I never could figure out why they didn’t call me after.”
    Shaking his head, smiling, he polished off his drink. “I don’t believe that.”
    “What, that my conquests never call?” She propped her elbow on the bar and rested her head in her hand, openly flirtatious.
    When had they last bothered to flirt? When had her eyes traveled over this man’s chest, his shoulders, his face, and thought something other than,
I need to get the clippers out this weekend and give them all haircuts
or
That undershirt’s getting ratty. Add that to the Target list?
    He nodded toward her wrist. “Looks to me like you give them a reason not to call.”
    Confused, she lifted her head and glanced at where he was looking. “What’s that?”
    “Your husband.”
    Oh. The ring.
    She twisted it off and tucked it in her purse.
    “Oops,” she said.
    A wry grin. “Yeah. Oops.”
    “Was that a game-changer, Steve?”
    He met her eyes. “You want it to be?”
    “No.”
    No, she didn’t want the game to change. She wanted to keep going. See where they ended up.
    She wanted this adventure, this hope, whether it was the smart thing or not.
    Steve tapped the bar with one finger. Looked at her again. “Then I guess the question is whether your husband would kick my ass if he found out.”
    “He’s not here.”
    “Not here, like not in the bar, or not here, like—”
    “Like not on this island.”
    “Why not?”
    “He had to work.”
    A searching pause as he looked into her eyes, and she wanted to take it back. The words had burbled up, unplanned.
    She did have a husband. He was back in Ohio, working. And she didn’t want to think about him right now—his work, what it meant, what it cost her. She only wanted to be with
this
man.
    “His mistake,” he said quietly.
    Amber let herself drift a step closer. Close enough that her arm brushed his, and she thought about his hand on the bar. If he lifted it and dropped it to her hip, how heavy it would feel there. How the humidity meant that her skin would feel cold, bereft when he took it away.
    “What brings you to Jamaica, Steve?”
    “A wedding.”
    “Not yours, I hope.”
    “My brother’s.”
    “Oh, brother wedding. That’s treacherous. Do you like the bride?”
    “She’s great. But to be honest, she could be a total bitch and I’d still be happy to see him married.”
    “Why, is he horribly ugly?”
    He shook his head. “Nah, just horribly messed up.”
    God. He was talking about Patrick.
    No. No Patrick.
    Jennifer didn’t want to think about Patrick or his suffering.
    So what are you good for, Steve?
    That was what she should say. Then he would reply with an innuendo-filled joke, andthey’d be right back on track. They would get that table. Drink some more. She would take him back to the room.
    That was what Tony wanted, wasn’t it? That was what he was looking for: some way to invite her to take that step with him. To give them a chance to start over so they could prove they had something between them, some real and important blaze of attraction that would exist even if they were Steve and Jennifer or Tom and Amanda or Adam and Colette.
    If you want me, win me over
, she thought.
    Make me believe in you. In us
.
    Make me believe in
myself.
    “Marriage isn’t for everybody,” she said.
    Which made Jennifer sound like the sort of woman who was pissed off at her neglectful husband, seeking revenge sex.
    He leaned in. “If I were an indirect sort of man,” he said quietly, running one finger up her forearm. “If I were a
subtle
man.” His mouth was so close to hers, she could feel his breath.
    “If you were the kind of man who can do more than work and fuck and cook a