Enchanted (The Accidental Billionaires #4)(8)

Except . . .

“That doesn’t mean that you still don’t need your parents,” he observed, his gorgeous hazel-eyed gaze sympathetic.

His empathy warmed my heart like it always had, but it made me uncomfortable at the same time. I still felt like Noah could see past any bravado I threw at him.

When I was a kid, it had made me feel better to talk to him.

Now that I was an adult, it was somewhat . . . disconcerting.

The way he appeared to look right through me and into the core of my being made me feel way too vulnerable. I’d spent years manufacturing a serene, relaxed, and impenetrable existence. It shook me to realize that Noah still had the same ability to probe my emotions instinctively.

When I was a child, I was glad that he appeared to understand my loneliness.

When I’d become a teen, I was pretty certain that I’d developed an enormous crush on Noah Sinclair.

Eventually, I’d gotten over the hero worship and just saw him as an older mentor, someone who’d encouraged my pursuit of a college degree as I’d gotten ready to leave for Boston to attend school.

Now, I couldn’t help but see him as a man. A gorgeous, distracted, hardworking guy who was in desperate need of somebody to help him learn to take a deep breath.

Problem was, I hadn’t counted on being so attracted to him that I could barely take a deep breath myself.

God, the man was overwhelmingly gorgeous. Maybe he did have dark circles under his eyes, and signs of severe stress. Yeah, he could stand to gain a few pounds, but that fact didn’t detract from his tall, muscular build. His greenish-brown eyes were startling with his inky-black hair, and his whiskered jawline told me that either he’d forgotten to shave or his beard grew back lightning fast.

I let out a shaky sigh as visions of climbing into his lap and pulling that restrictive tie from his neck washed through my brain. I’d love to get him out of those stuffy clothes and . . .

Stop!

I willed my mind to get back on topic, but I wasn’t quite sure what we’d been talking about before I started thinking lurid thoughts about my best friend’s older brother. Dammit!

That doesn’t mean you don’t need your parents. Oh yeah. That was what he’d said.

“I’m fine with it,” I squeaked as I crossed my legs uncomfortably. My X-rated daydreams had sent liquid heat directedly between my thighs. “I stay busy.”

“Do you?” His earnest baritone hit a chord somewhere deep in the pit of my stomach.

His short response had felt like something incredibly sensual, which was ridiculous.

I’m going to Mexico with Noah for a reason, and my purpose is not sexual! This is all a favor to Owen. I can’t let myself get distracted.

And God, I had gotten very preoccupied for a moment. How could I not? One look at Noah had brought forth too damn many visions of our hot, naked bodies burning up some cool cotton sheets.

“Very, very busy,” I muttered, forcing my eyes away from him.

Escape! I really needed to get away from that piercing, all-knowing stare of his.

I fumbled with my seat belt and released it so I could stand up and stretch. I needed to shake off the insta-lust that had nearly devoured me whole the moment I’d gotten Noah’s attention.

It wasn’t real. It was just a fleeting moment of insanity.

Take a deep breath in.

Now let it out.

I stepped away so I could put some distance between me and major temptation.

I just needed to take a moment.

If I didn’t get my shit together, it was going to end up being a very long two weeks.





CHAPTER 3

ANDIE



Breathe in.

Breathe out.

I’d kicked my shoes off, and as I moved from a yoga mountain pose into a downward dog, I realized just how much I missed my yoga pants. My jeans and the cute but short pink shirt I’d put on earlier were a little restrictive as I bent over and let my palms lie flat on the plush carpet near the bar area.

Yoga usually let me escape, relax, and feel more balanced. Unfortunately, even though it felt good to stretch, I could sense Noah’s eyes drilling into me as I dropped my head.

“What in the hell are you doing?” he asked, sounding . . . perplexed.

“Yoga,” I answered as I blew a breath out loudly. “It’s good for you to get up and stretch during a long flight. It prevents blood clots and swollen feet. You should try it.”

Jesus! I was babbling. Something I never did. What in the hell was wrong with me?

It was no use. There was no way I was going to be able to concentrate on clearing my mind. Not when Noah was watching. The best I could hope for was to relax my body.

He was silent as I moved into a couple of other positions and then flipped into a headstand, hoping we didn’t hit any major turbulence that would put me down on my ass.

Breathe, Andie. Just breathe.

My body was well trained to throw off tension as I executed the poses.

My head was nearly clear when Noah finally said in a slightly awed tone, “My body doesn’t quite move that way.”

I moved to a cross-legged position on the floor and straightened up, hands on my thighs as I finally looked at him. “It could,” I told him. “Have you ever tried to relax?”

“No. Why?” His question was rough and genuine, like the whole idea of letting go of his problems had never occurred to him.