Okay.
We were friends now and while Brock didn’t act like a boss should toward an employee, maybe we hadn’t hit the hugging stage yet.
Feeling like a giant idiot, I started to pull back. I didn’t make it very far, because Brock finally moved, folding his arms around my waist. A gasp parted my lips as he pulled me more firmly against him, and suddenly it wasn’t just a normal, excited hug. Oh no, it was so much more. My breasts were pressed to his chest, my lower belly to his hips. There wasn’t an inch of space between us, and when Brock drew in a deep breath and his chest rose, I felt it shudder through him.
His fingers tangled in the ends of my hair as I felt him lower his chin until it rested atop my head. Brock didn’t hug me back. He held me to him, and yeah, that wasn’t the same as a hug. They were vastly different things.
Cars passed us on the street. The distant hum of conversation drew close on the sidewalk and then passed us. A wild, raw emotion crowded my senses, dredging up old, familiar feelings of the way things used to be. A cyclone of passion and yearning whipped through me as I rested my chest against his, right above his heart. I could almost pretend like we—No. I couldn’t pretend. That was starting down a road only someone who was a glutton for punishment traveled. I pulled back and looked up at Brock.
He stood still, the epitome of relaxed, but there was a coiled intensity to the way he stared down at me. It was unnerving and provoking. It made me think that if I stretched up on the tips of my toes, I could maybe kiss him.
Oh my God, what was I thinking?
Slipping free, I was thankful he couldn’t see how red my face was becoming. “I’ll pick up some pastries tomorrow,” I decided, wrapping my arms around my waist as I shivered. Wind lifted my hair, tossing the strands around my shoulders.
Brock was quiet and still.
I drew in one breath and then another. “We should also give Paul a heads-up about them coming in since I believe they are his classes.”
“They are.” Brock shrugged off his black sport coat and draped it over my shoulders, apparently not even phased by the weirdness that had just gone down. “We have three prospects in those classes. I know your father is interested in having them come up to Philadelphia so he can get a read on them.”
“Thank you.” I gripped the edges of his jacket, holding them together as we crossed the street. “Which guys are you looking at?”
As Brock rattled off their names, he fished out his car keys. Hitting the unlock button, he opened the passenger door for me. I slid in, keeping his jacket around me, mainly because it was warm and . . . and when I inhaled deeply, I caught the scent of woodsy cologne.
“We did good tonight,” Brock said as he closed the driver’s door and hit the ignition button. Air blew out of the vents, quickly warming up.
“Yes. We did.” I glanced over at him.
Sitting back against the seat, he eyed me in the shadows. “We make a good team.”
“We do.” A smile pulled at my mouth, so I turned to the right.
“Why do you do that?”
“Do what?” My smile faded as I looked back over at him.
He leaned over, curling his fingers around my chin. My breath caught and my eyes widened. “Every time you start to smile, you either stop or look away. Why?”
“I . . .” Our gazes locked, and I had this crazy sense of falling under. I don’t know what made my mouth move. “I can’t smile right.”
His gaze searched mine and he didn’t speak for a long moment. “Nerve damage?”
“Yeah.” I tore my gaze from his. “It’s weird. You’d think it would be my right side since I had . . . I had to have that part of my jaw replaced, but it’s the left side. I guess it . . . just hit the right place.”
Brock’s gaze dropped from mine, to my mouth. “I can’t . . . I can’t remember the last time I saw you smile.”
I tensed.
“Well, actually I do.” He dragged his thumb along my lower lip, sending a wave of shivers over my skin. “I remember.”
My eyes closed as his thumb made another sweep. The gesture affected me more than it should have.
“I know your smile now has to be as beautiful as it was before,” he said, voice low. “Don’t hide it, Jillian.”
Then, my eyes still closed, I felt his lips against my cheek—against the deep scar. I sucked in a startled breath, shocked to the very core. It was such a sweet kiss, definitely not the first time in my life that Brock Mitchell had kissed my cheek, but it felt very, very different now. The way his lips felt, the brush of the hair on his chin and jaw caused my skin to prickle with heat. How his nose dragged along the curve of my cheek as he lifted his mouth and pulled away scattered my senses.
It was just a kiss on the cheek, chaste and harmless, and I wanted it to stay that way, where it was safe, but my heart was thundering and my pulse pounding, and there was nothing, nothing safe about how that felt.
Chapter 14
Brock slipped the car into gear and pulled out of the parking spot while I sat back against the seat, fingers aching from how tightly I was clenching his jacket. We didn’t talk on the drive to my apartment.
“I’ll walk you up,” he announced, coasting into a spot near the front.
“That’s not . . .” I trailed off as his fingers brushed my hip. He was unbuckling my seatbelt. I blinked and Brock was already climbing out of the car and walking around the front. “Okay then.”
He opened the passenger door and extended a hand. Eyeing him curiously, I grabbed my purse off the floor beside my feet and stepped out. “You really don’t have to do this,” I stressed.