Nightingale by Jocelyn Adams

Author:Jocelyn Adams [Adams, Jocelyn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Entangled, Amara, Romance, journalist, millionaire, tycoon, enemies to lovers, opposites attract, overcoming the past
Publisher: Entangled Publishing, LLC
Published: 2017-11-26T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Micah sat on the lounge chair in the sunshine, pretending to read a book. Since he’d stolen the only seat that supported the occupant’s feet, Darcy had pulled up her chair close to him, crossed her ankles, and used his legs as her own footstool.

Her flirty skirt lifted in the breeze, giving him the odd glimpse of the inner thigh he’d had his hands on yesterday. His fingers remembered the softness of her skin, the firm tone of her muscles, aching with the desire to explore every curve of her.

She appeared to be engrossed in the John Grisham novel she’d borrowed from his small library. The sun turned her hair golden on top, and the smattering of freckles on her cheeks appeared darker. Her brow creased at whatever mystery the book world had drawn her in to. Television had never held much interest for him, but he could have watched her all day and not grown tired.

A comfortable silence had descended upon them over an hour ago. It gave him too much time to consider everything he’d said to her earlier. If she wasn’t lying, and the way she blended so easily into his life was real, what was happening between them? It wasn’t infatuation—he knew what that felt like, a desire to possess and control that went beyond reason.

But if it wasn’t infatuation, what the hell had him so tied up in knots in one moment, and feeling like he could rocket around the moon the next? She affected him like a drug that fell somewhere between heroin and Valium. Even the ever-present pain in his arm had dulled to an ache he barely noticed since the moment she’d burst into his office. With her, he simply wanted to be near her. Soak in her energy, feel her warmth, be himself, whoever that was.

Fucking hell.

Not that it changed anything. He’d brought her here to free him from the paparazzi, so his time and energy would have nowhere to go but the foundation, and to entertain himself for a while. Now, all he wanted was to entertain her. The last time he’d considered someone else’s happiness, his mother had been alive.

Was she really the good woman she was selling to him? One with an old soul who was holding on to a shred of hope for humanity’s redemption? And—despite her insistence that she wasn’t—secretly hoping for her nightingale to appear and whisk her away into a forever-after romance like her grandparents had? Like his parents had before they went into the next life together?

He was so far gone today, he almost wished he could be what she needed. They were both damaged, both suffering at the hands of their ghosts and trying to find footings in their new lives. But she hadn’t seen the worst of his demons yet, and given what she stood for, it would put an end to any potential they might have had. Besides, she was a reporter, and he could never fully trust her. Hell, he never fully trusted anyone since his teenage life fell apart.

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