Unravelled Read Online Free PDF Page B

anything I said?” There’s that tone again. The one reserved for small children and old people. Good. This is just what I need to refresh my resolutions. The last two years have been peaceful, and starting something with this gorgeous man in front of me would only lead to lots of tears and cheap wine, but it’s so tempting to just go ahead and do it anyway.
    I wet my lips and see his eyes drawn to my mouth before I shake my head and softly say, “No”.
    “Would you like to do something about this?” On the this last word his index finger makes a few journeys from me to him and back indicating the desire sparking between us. I think. Self-preservation kicks in with the power of a Boeing engine and images flutter through my mind. Images of me in my house in the city eating rice cakes for two weeks because I was too depressed to go out and buy food, Erin ordering me to change my life, days spent in shops and salons becoming the ‘new me’. Stronger images float through my memory reminding me why the new me was created and that is stronger than any coffee to wake me up to reality.
    I take a shaky breath, lift an eyebrow in defiance, but when I speak a Marilyn Monroe voice comes out of my mouth and I sound breathless with desire. Yet, I forge ahead hoping to kill the desire that my traitorous vocal chords make so clear.
    “If you were the last breathing male on the planet and I was threatened with all kinds of torture which included decaf coffee, I would rather pull out my toenails that pursue any kind of anything with you.” My traitorous eyes are drawn again to his chest and I have to close my eyes to not lose my line of thought. My body is betraying me. I decide to play open cards with him. “As a matter of fact, I do find you easy to look at. It’s just that it would be… a disaster.”
    In my desperation to make sure he understands, I think I put too much emphasis on that last word because he’s looking thunderous again. He takes a deep breath and I know I’m about to be blasted with an Arctic verbal gale force wind when Blossom – bless his Newfoundland heart – chooses this moment to come bounding in looking for affection. He slides to a stop between us on the Italian tiled floor like a baseball hero stealing base and unceremoniously throws himself belly-up on the floor, looking expectantly up at me with soulful eyes hoping for a belly scratch.
    Mr Wall Street swallows his retort, looks down at Blossom and then at me in total defeat before he throws his hands in the air. He closes his eyes as if looking for an answer to unanswerable questions and breathes deeply a few times. This gives me an opportunity to steal a few more glances at his very touchable biceps and chest. He opens his eyes and catches me staring at him, and shakes his head in a very hopeless kind of way. When he speaks it is with the same resigned tone of voice my mother and Erin have used on me. Numerous times.
    “Be ready in an hour. You can go with me to the office and I’ll show you around.” He turns around and walks out, still shaking his head. I follow him to the sliding door, appreciating how his broad shoulders taper down to a well-muscled back. My gaze stops at his sports hero butt that could evoke envy even while sitting down. He must’ve sensed something because he stops and without looking around says, “You might say that you are not interested, but staring at my behind indicates differently.”
    He turns around and burns me with a look so hot I can feel my blood bubble in my veins. I realise that I’ll have to break this spell or I’ll be back in a place I vowed I’d never go again. I plaster the biggest smile I can manage on my face and in the most innocent of voices say, “Just appreciating Mother Nature. It’s equal to appreciating a butterfly, a flower or a gorilla.” I say the last word pointedly, hoping to make it clear which category I consider him to be part of.
    He turns around without replying and walks