Yuna
The next morning, I put on my absolute best outfit and shoes. Nothing boosts a girl’s confidence like a stylish burgundy Valentino dress and sparkly platinum Dior sandals with slim four-inch heels. A Cartier bracelet sits elegantly on my left wrist, and I opt for diamonds because today’s a diamond kind of a day. Need to be strong. Hard. And shiny.
I’ve made up my mind not to take the kiss too seriously or make a big deal about it. It was a great kiss, but that doesn’t mean it has to change everything. I’m going to let myself assess Declan. Eight weeks is plenty of time to figure out what kind of man he is. And even if he sounds like he should be reading sex scenes from romance novels, if he doesn’t have what I need, I’ll simply move on.
After all, half the world’s population is men. Surely my soul mate is out there, just waiting for me to discover him in some fateful encounter.
“You’re looking great,” Tony says, coming in from his morning run. He doesn’t usually exercise so early, but with Ivy pregnant, he tries to get it out of the way while she’s asleep so he can spend as much time with her as possible. Super sweet.
“Thanks. You look pretty good yourself. Enjoy the run?”
“Yeah.”
“Have a great day with Ivy. Tell her I love her, and give kisses to my nephew and niece.”
“Will do. You have a good day, too.”
Smiling, I climb into the waiting car and take the nice ride out Pacific Coast Highway to Declan’s home in Malibu. Once there, I inhale deeply to center myself and step inside.
I’m sticking to the plan, even if my stomach’s a bit jittery, like it’s full of quivering Jell-O.
“Morning,” Declan says from the kitchen, looking absolutely scrumptious in a T-shirt and shorts. His slightly damp black hair is slicked back, showing the wide forehead, the dark, slightly slanted eyebrows and the straight line of his nose. His gray eyes are observant but warm as he looks at me.
Suddenly the mansion seems hotter. I resist an urge to lick my lips. Don’t show him anything. It’s bad enough that my mouth is tingling again with the memory of yesterday.
“Good morning,” I say with my absolute best smile.
He places egg whites and berries on his plate. “Coffee?”
“Thank you.” I sit at the counter and study him.
He’s acting like it’s like any other morning. No awkwardness. No “hey, wanna continue what we began yesterday” stuff. Maybe I just imagined the kiss.
I could have. After all, the man is hotter than a sidewalk in Singapore.
But then I remember how unsteady I was on my feet and how much my lips throbbed after I arrived at Ivy’s. If I imagined all that, it was an awfully physical hallucination.
Regardless, it’s good that he isn’t acting differently. Like yesterday never happened. I should feel relieved, because kissing a boss is new territory, and I’m not sure exactly how to handle it yet. But the pang in my gut feels like disappointment.
On the other hand, feeling let down is ridiculous! Declan and I haven’t agreed on anything, and it isn’t like we’re an official couple just because we kissed.
After he finishes breakfast, Declan clears his throat. “Look, about last night… If I made you feel uncomfortable—”
“No, I’m fine.”
“What I mean is, if—”
“Really. I’m good.” Why does he want to talk about it? Especially now? I still haven’t figured out precisely what I’m going to say to him, so we can communicate properly. It’d be super annoying if we misunderstood each other because I picked a wrong word or two. But since he seems to require some kind of reassurance from me that everything’s all right between us, I point at my face. “See the steel sheet?”
He squints. “The what?”
“It’s a figure of speech in Korea. What I mean is I’ve laid down a sheet of steel on my face, and I’m fine. No negative feelings.” Like shame or embarrassment. But I don’t say that out loud, because I don’t want him to think I’ve been mired in either of those emotions. I was only, like, five percent embarrassed. The rest was pure arousal.
“Oh. Glad to hear it.” He gives me a look that says he hasn’t made the connection between me having a sheet of steel on my face and me being fine, but he’s just going to accept what I said. Which I appreciate.
Something about his expression says he’s not wholly satisfied. Still, he said he was glad, so I’m going to take his word for it. Americans are very direct with their verbal communication. No reading between lines like you do in Korea, where yes can be no and welcome can be I can’t believe you have the gall to show your face here.
His phone beeps, and he checks the screen. A frown creates three deep lines between his eyebrows. I have the urge to reach over and run a finger over them, so I pick up my mug for a sip…only to realize I’ve already finished my coffee.