Page 43 of Merging Wright

I need my husband. As fast as that first retort develops, a second thought arrives, telling me how ridiculous the comment would sound if said aloud.

I reach for the notebook on the floor and babble. “I spoke to a few of the businesses today.”

“Jane—”

Flipping through the pages, I aimlessly search for notes, not able to read a word of what I’ve written. “And I’d like to start with Bliss. The store needs a social media presence, a new logo, and an overhaul in physical layout.”

“Tomorrow, Jane.”

I pause on a page full of writing and a small sketch, but I can’t focus. I just ramble. “Tanza was so kind to me, and I think I can make a big impact by starting with her place.”

Mach’s shoulders lower, as does his head. His mouth quirks, but the curl of his lips isn’t a smile. “Tomorrow, baby.”

The endearment sends a rush up my middle, like the bubbles softly popping in the champagne he poured over my body. I recall his mouth on my nipples, which currently peak within my thin T-shirt. The sharp nubs protrude against the cotton material. Whispers of Mach’s praise dances against my skin. I like seeing my kiss on you.

I want to smack him right now . . . or maybe myself.

His eyes, lasered in on my breasts, answers the question of whether he can see how turned on I am by his nearness. Heat slowly crawls from my neck to my cheeks. My lips tingle with the reminder of his mouth on mine. I lick my lower lip, swallowing hard, refreshing the taste of Mach and bubbles lapping against my tongue. His gaze shifts and holds on my mouth.

“In a little bit,” I say again. If I go anywhere near him right now, it’s a toss-up between reacting like a cyclone of desire or a tornado of destruction. He winds me so tight I could spring either way.

“Jane, bed.” His deep voice softens but still commands. Defeat rests on his shoulders, though. He knows I’ll keep fighting him.

“Good night, Mr. Wright.”

With a huff, he leaves me alone. All the oxygen in the room follows him. I cover my face with both hands, fight against tears, and return to the notebook on my lap. Unfortunately, all I can do is focus on one word.

Bliss.

Maybe someone else will have a happily-ever-after from Tanza’s shop.

22

Playlist: “Hold Back the River” – James Bay

[Jane]

After a few days of circling one another, Camilla demands Mach and I get out of the house for an evening. Between accounts at Impact and developing a strategy for Wrightwood, we’ve been going nonstop, and the only conversations we have revolve around our projects.

“Take a break,” his mother encourages as we stand in her kitchen. “Go to Trophy’s for a while.”

Trophy’s is located in what was once a convenience store. Two decades later, the place is one of the most popular locations in the area as it sits on prime real estate—overlooking the river. The bridge is highlighted in the backdrop. At some point, an extensive back porch was added to the structure, supported by heavy beams that give the impression of a balcony over the flowing water. The place is one of the businesses we are obligated to renovate, and I haven’t been there yet.

“I think I’ll stay in. Maybe take a bath,” I say to Camilla.

“No bath,” Camilla admonishes. “I’m hosting my knitting group tonight, and we need to gossip.”

“Ma,” Mach groans from behind me.

“I’d love to sit in,” I counter. Who doesn’t love a night of yarn and gossip? Will they serve wine?

“Do you even know how to knit?” Camilla asks me.

The skill eludes me. It isn’t from a lack of patience as I cross-stitched as a child but knitting never interested me.

Camilla observes me as I purse my lips and shift my eyes to the side. “That’s what I thought.” She softly laughs. “Plus, we’re going to be talking about you, so you need to go.”

“Ma,” Mach groans again and I turn to see him swipe a hand down his face.