Close Up by Erin McCarthy Page B

physically satisfied she would find it a challenge to walk away from him on Monday, both literally and figuratively.
    Reaching out, he trailed his thumb across her bottom lip, loving the way her breath hitched. “Perfect, sweetheart. Just like you.”
    * * *
    I T WAS REALLY, really difficult to think when Sean touched her. Kissed her. When he looked at her as if she was something delicious and amazing. It made her insides melt and her resolve disintegrate.
    But he was insane if he thought she was perfect. Or was there mockery in that statement? She wasn’t sure. He sounded sincere, but it seemed so improbable that he was delusional enough to think anything even close to perfection could be used to describe her. Hadn’t he been angry that she had been too childish to talk to him about their ridiculous fight?
    Yes, he had. Because she was that woman. The one who ran out and disappeared, just like her father had before her, and his father before him.
    So what if it felt amazing to kiss Sean? Or that she was eager to jump back into bed with him? She needed to stay firm and not go there with him.
    This phase in her life needed to be about getting her own personal life sorted out, maintaining a job, and creating stability and a sense of direction. On her own.
    Not letting Sean make excuses for her poor behavior, because that’s suddenly what it felt like he was doing.
    She had to be mature if it killed her. The point of returning was to move forward, not go backward.
    “Well, okay then,” she said inanely, smoothing her hands down the front of her pencil skirt. “I should probably head home. Tomorrow is going to be a busy day.”
    There was silence for a heartbeat, but then he just nodded. “Sure. Let me pay the check then I’ll walk you out.”
    Kristine grabbed her purse and keys and started digging for her wallet. “How much was the wine?”
    “Don’t insult me. I’m picking up this tab.”
    “It’s not a big deal,” she started to insist, then trailed off when she glanced up. Sean looked like he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.
    “I invited you. I’m paying.”
    She pursed her lips. “Why are you always so damn logical?”
    “I was born this way.”
    He had been. She had no doubt of it. His parents were working class, and while they hadn’t been able to provide him with a lot of financial opportunities, they had given him a shrewd sense of logic, and an understanding on how to leave emotion out of practical matters.
    Kristine wasn’t sure what her mother had given her, besides indigestion.
    “I concede the point.” She pulled out her phone and told Sean, “I’m texting my mother and telling her that if she shows up Friday I’ll never speak to her again.”
    “Do you think that will actually work?”
    It seemed he remembered her mother accurately. “No. But it’s worth a shot. Thankfully, June and Ian were understanding about the vandalism, but I don’t want any more snafus.”
    She sent the stern text, feeling as she frequently did that she was more the parent than the child when dealing with her mother.
    “I wish I knew what the point was,” Sean mused as he put his credit card down for the waitress. “It seems silly to make a statement if no one knows what that statement is supposed to mean. I also don’t like that we were locked in the storage closet. They had no way of knowing how long we would be trapped there. It was reckless on their part.”
    “So they are more criminal than protester?” That was not reassuring.
    “I’m going to do some research on this.” Sean made some notations on his phone, fingers flying. Sean didn’t just multitask, he worked with the efficiency of an assembly line. He punched out emails while talking on the phone all while running on a treadmill. Her idea of multitasking was drinking wine with dinner.
    Speaking of, she took a healthy swallow of the wine remaining in her glass. No reason to let that go to waste.
    As much as she found herself wanting