“I’ll show myself out.”
The door closed behind him. Celia dug her fingers into the thick upholstery and swallowed against a wave of hurt and disappointment. What had she done wrong? He’d been as into that kiss as she’d been. She’d felt every inch of his erection pressed into her, had restrained herself from rubbing against him to ease the desire flowing through her. There’d been such a strong connection between them. Hadn’t she seen what he wanted to do to her—
Seen?
She froze. No, it couldn’t be. She didn’t…she wasn’t…
No. Absolutely not. She hadn’t been seeing his fantasy. It had to have been her own, where she wanted that kiss to go. Lord only knew what she’d done to scare him off. Come on too strong. Or maybe…oh hell.
That wasn’t her fantasy. She’d clearly seen it from his perspective, not her own. Maybe she was just going crazy. The sexual frustration, the wanting him, had finally pushed her over the edge.
She’d propositioned her boss.
Her lungs stopped working. She’d risked everything—her position, her professional reputation—with that stupid I want you . What the hell had she been thinking?
She hadn’t been.
That was the problem. She’d been feeling, lost in the absolute incredibleness of actually touching him, kissing him, arching against him.
She had to face him in a staff meeting tomorrow morning.
With a groan, she covered her eyes with trembling fingers. Damn. This was worse than the freaking sex-toy debacle, than having him think she was involved with Cook. She needed a drink. A strong one. Maybe more than one. Pushing away from the chair, she walked through to Cicely’s side of the house.
She found her sister sitting at the counter, closing out the shop’s paperwork for the day. Celia folded her arms on the counter edge and sighed. “Hey.”
Cicely slid her an inquisitive glance. “Your guy hightailed it out of here like the hounds of hell were after him.”
Oh, that made her feel better. “He’s not my guy.”
“Need to talk?” Cicely made a neat stack of ones and began counting.
“Not right now.” Celia levered away from the counter and walked along the wall, perusing the books. She knew she’d seen a volume on it here somewhere. A red leather cover, faded gilt lettering. “Maybe later. You want to go get a drink when you’re finished?”
“Sure.”
Celia floated her fingertips over the spines. She frowned. It wasn’t here.
“Cee?” Cicely’s soft voice drew her attention and she glanced over her shoulder. “What are you looking for?”
Celia shrugged as a spurt of foolishness filled her. “You had a book on the Gift.”
“Sold it two days ago. It’s out of print and I’m watching eBay for a replacement.” Cicely wrapped a rubber band around the bills. “Why are you looking for that, anyway?”
Celia smiled, feeling sheepish. “The weirdest thing just happened.”
“With McMillian?”
“Yes.” She rubbed the links of her necklace between her thumb and forefinger. “I kissed him, and I thought, well, I thought he was as involved as I was. I swear I could see what he was thinking about us.” She laughed. “I was thinking about you and Mama, wondering if maybe I picked up a little of the Gift after all.”
“It’s not you.”
“What?” Celia frowned. Not her?
“It’s him.”
Celia laughed. “Come on, Cis, be serious—”
“I am.” Cicely shrugged and stacked the money in her bank bag. “I felt it when he walked in.”
“But then how could I see—”
“He projects.” Cicely locked the bag away in the safe. “He’s got a strong aura too. A dark one. Lots of stuff he’s still carrying around with him. Be careful of that one, Cee.”
Celia stared at her sister. It couldn’t be. It simply couldn’t. McMillian was the most logical, practical man she knew.
Not to mention, the most intuitive. The possibilities boggled the mind. However, nothing changed the fact that he’d pulled back and
The door closed behind him. Celia dug her fingers into the thick upholstery and swallowed against a wave of hurt and disappointment. What had she done wrong? He’d been as into that kiss as she’d been. She’d felt every inch of his erection pressed into her, had restrained herself from rubbing against him to ease the desire flowing through her. There’d been such a strong connection between them. Hadn’t she seen what he wanted to do to her—
Seen?
She froze. No, it couldn’t be. She didn’t…she wasn’t…
No. Absolutely not. She hadn’t been seeing his fantasy. It had to have been her own, where she wanted that kiss to go. Lord only knew what she’d done to scare him off. Come on too strong. Or maybe…oh hell.
That wasn’t her fantasy. She’d clearly seen it from his perspective, not her own. Maybe she was just going crazy. The sexual frustration, the wanting him, had finally pushed her over the edge.
She’d propositioned her boss.
Her lungs stopped working. She’d risked everything—her position, her professional reputation—with that stupid I want you . What the hell had she been thinking?
She hadn’t been.
That was the problem. She’d been feeling, lost in the absolute incredibleness of actually touching him, kissing him, arching against him.
She had to face him in a staff meeting tomorrow morning.
With a groan, she covered her eyes with trembling fingers. Damn. This was worse than the freaking sex-toy debacle, than having him think she was involved with Cook. She needed a drink. A strong one. Maybe more than one. Pushing away from the chair, she walked through to Cicely’s side of the house.
She found her sister sitting at the counter, closing out the shop’s paperwork for the day. Celia folded her arms on the counter edge and sighed. “Hey.”
Cicely slid her an inquisitive glance. “Your guy hightailed it out of here like the hounds of hell were after him.”
Oh, that made her feel better. “He’s not my guy.”
“Need to talk?” Cicely made a neat stack of ones and began counting.
“Not right now.” Celia levered away from the counter and walked along the wall, perusing the books. She knew she’d seen a volume on it here somewhere. A red leather cover, faded gilt lettering. “Maybe later. You want to go get a drink when you’re finished?”
“Sure.”
Celia floated her fingertips over the spines. She frowned. It wasn’t here.
“Cee?” Cicely’s soft voice drew her attention and she glanced over her shoulder. “What are you looking for?”
Celia shrugged as a spurt of foolishness filled her. “You had a book on the Gift.”
“Sold it two days ago. It’s out of print and I’m watching eBay for a replacement.” Cicely wrapped a rubber band around the bills. “Why are you looking for that, anyway?”
Celia smiled, feeling sheepish. “The weirdest thing just happened.”
“With McMillian?”
“Yes.” She rubbed the links of her necklace between her thumb and forefinger. “I kissed him, and I thought, well, I thought he was as involved as I was. I swear I could see what he was thinking about us.” She laughed. “I was thinking about you and Mama, wondering if maybe I picked up a little of the Gift after all.”
“It’s not you.”
“What?” Celia frowned. Not her?
“It’s him.”
Celia laughed. “Come on, Cis, be serious—”
“I am.” Cicely shrugged and stacked the money in her bank bag. “I felt it when he walked in.”
“But then how could I see—”
“He projects.” Cicely locked the bag away in the safe. “He’s got a strong aura too. A dark one. Lots of stuff he’s still carrying around with him. Be careful of that one, Cee.”
Celia stared at her sister. It couldn’t be. It simply couldn’t. McMillian was the most logical, practical man she knew.
Not to mention, the most intuitive. The possibilities boggled the mind. However, nothing changed the fact that he’d pulled back and
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