Anyone but Alex (The English Brothers Book 3) by Katy Regnery

still looking down.
    “Sure, that too.”
    “Too?”
    “I was actually asking about your work.”
    “Guess,” she said, smoothing her hair with one hand as she continued to star e at her lunch options.
    “ Jess…Is there a reason you’re not looking at me?”
    S he did. And it happened again—the helpless feeling that didn’t hurt. He felt his smile fading, and his eyes widened, searching hers desperately.
    “That’s why,” she murmured, looking back down, her cheeks high from her beaming smile. “Because you can’t handle me yet.”
    “Ha!” he scoffed, sitting back in his chair. “ I can’t handle you ?”
    “Nope. You get flummoxed every time I look at you.”
    Damn it, she was right, but his ego wouldn’t let him drop it. “You do realize I’m a worldly twenty-nine to your tender twenty-three?”
    “Yes, I do . Which is why it’s so amusing.”
    “ I’ve been around the block, Jess.”
    “ So I’ve heard. Around and around and around.”
    “I can handle you, Jess.”
    “Really.”
    “Uh, yeah. Really.”
    The challenge in her eyes was unmistakable as she slowly lowered her menu, and he braced himself, leaning into her beauty, into her smile, into the memories of her as the child who’d adored him. As she raised her eyes, he finally forced himself to accept it: she was Jessie Winslow, she was home, she was all grown up and so beautiful, he almost couldn’t believe she was real, but she was here having lunch with him so it must be true.
    “ There we go,” she said gently. “Now you see me.”
    How did she do this? Anticipate him ? Comfort him? Somehow reach into his heart and soothe something that had been chafing for weeks? From the moment she’d turned around on Saturday night, it was like a missing piece of Alex was restoring itself—a piece that fit perfectly, that never should have been taken away from him. A piece that he would never have been able to replace on his own, no matter how many other pieces he’d tried to force into its place.
    The not-so-awful helpless feeling encroached …
    “Jess…”
    “Keep guessing what I do.”
    …and abated. He grinned, thinking about her crossing the ballroom on Saturday night. “A party planner.”
    “No.”
    “Am I hot or cold?”
    “ Warm. I love parties so much, but I wouldn’t be a good planner. I’d want to enjoy myself instead of work.”
    “ So…something more solitary so you don’t get distracted?”
    “Now y ou’ve gone to the other extreme!”
    “ Okay. Not totally solitary. Or, maybe the work is solitary, but the environment is social?”
    “Warmer. I’m impressed.”
    “I’m very smart,” he said, winking at her. “And interesting.”
    “Clearly,” she said , grinning that wonderful, open smile that captivated him so much.
    “Okay. So, you’re surrounded by people, but what you do is solitary.”
    She nodded, and her ponytail bounced up and down, the ends probably tickling the back of her neck. His fingers curled and released in his lap, wishing they could fist in that soft hair or brush against that warm skin, following the curve of her neck to the base of her throat with trembling, reverent fingertips.
    “Guess again,” she insisted, not letting him get distracted.
    “A librarian.”
    “No.”
    “Warm?”
    “ Very.”
    “Hot , even?” he asked in a low, flirtatious voice, because he couldn’t help it.
    “Yes,” she murmured as she stared back at him.
    A waitress stopped by their table and broke the electric moment. Jessie smiled warmly at her, ordering the bangers and mashed with a pint of cold British ale. He said “Same,” barely looking away from Jessie for a moment.
    “A waitress,” he said .
    “Respectable work, but not mine.”
    “Librarian was warm?”
    She nodded.
    “A library is like a…museum. Are you a curator? No. A docent!” He knew—somehow knew for sure—that he was right.
    She rewarded him with a beaming smile and clapped softly. “Impressive!”
    “Where?” he