From This Moment On
Page 11
“Are you in the wine business?"
He nodded, then said, “You don’t live here, either, do you?”
She hadn’t missed the fact that while he’d answered her question, he’d quickly changed the subject afterward.
It was a reminder that this was just small talk between two strangers who were never going to see each other again. She shouldn’t be upset that he didn’t want to tell her where he worked. He was probably afraid she’d hunt him down and become a big nuisance. No doubt plenty of girls had tried to latch onto him over the years.
Besides, she wasn’t exactly gung-ho about sharing a bunch of details about her life with him, was she?
Nearly as vague as he’d been, she said, “I’m from a teeny, tiny little town in upstate New York, but I’ve always loved the west coast.”
There. That was perfectly impersonal. They were both behaving like two rational adults who had almost made the mistake of having a one-night stand, but had somehow slipped out of the night unscathed.
She should be happy.
But she wasn’t.
Because for a few wonderful minutes the previous night, she’d reveled in irrational, unfettered desire and anticipation.
Rational sucked by comparison.
She swiveled on her stool to face him more directly. “I’m still really embarrassed about calling your mother like that.”
The last thing she expected was for his laughter to rumble through the room.
It was such a beautiful sound—rich and deep, if a bit rusty—that she had a sudden vision of capturing it like the sea witch had Ariel’s voice in the Little Mermaid movie, in a little locket she could wear around her neck and take out to replay whenever she needed a pick-me-up.
“Trust me,” he told her, “I’m sure she enjoyed talking with you. A great deal.”
“What are you going to tell her?” She quickly clarified, “About me, I mean, and the question I asked her about you.”
“If you were safe with me?"
Her breath left her in a whoosh and it was all she could do just to nod as the sensual tension between them jumped up a notch.
But instead of dropping it, she said, “I was safe with you,” barely above a whisper. Almost before she realized it, she was reaching out to touch his hand, only inches away.
She wished she’d been awake for long enough to really appreciate his holding her hand. Instead, she’d slept through some of the most wonderful moments of her life—Marcus’s hands holding hers, his warmth cradling her.
Now, as the sunlight streamed in through the large kitchen windows of his brother’s house, she pulled her hand back barely an inch before she would have made contact.
“What do you want me to tell her?”
She lifted her eyes from his large hands, hands she still couldn’t stop wishing were holding her, caressing her, and despite the warm sun coming in, a shiver went through her as she looked up at him.
“Maybe,” she said slowly, “you could tell her you made a new friend last night.”
“A new friend.”
As her words came back at her in his deliciously low voice, she thought, I wish it were actually true. I wish we actually were friends. And more. So much more.
She licked her lips and his eyes followed the path of her tongue. When his gaze met hers again, the heat from the night before was back in spades.
She knew he had to see it in her gaze, too. A part of her thought she should try to hide it, but nothing had changed between last night and this morning.
She was still senselessly attracted to him.
Suddenly, she wondered why she was so intent on pushing him away. Marcus was gorgeous, the best-looking man she’d met in forever. Okay, so last night hadn’t worked out, but she was in town for several more.
Oh God, she was terrible at this, didn’t have the first clue how to proposition Marcus for the second time in twenty-four hours. Last night, she’d been able to play off the loud music, the dark lighting, her leather dress and heels. But sitting here in a kitchen drinking coffee in an oversized sweatshirt...she had none of those sexy trappings to help her find her way.
The thing was, she already knew she’d regret it like crazy if she walked away from Marcus without even trying.
One night. She deserved one night with a guy like this, didn’t she? Just because she’d blown last night by falling asleep, didn’t mean she should give up. If that had been how she’d approached the music business, she never would have gone beyond playing open mics at coffee shops.
Of course, she’d have to tell him who she was if he agreed to another night with her. Heck, she knew she needed to tell him anyway. How unfair would it be to him if he walked out of here and got a call from one of his friends or family asking him why he’d been holding out on them about being Nico’s newest flame?
Not looking forward to that part of the conversation one bit, she decided to lead with, “I’m going to be in the city for a few more nights.” She picked up her cup again and gulped the rest of the coffee.
His expression was unreadable. She didn’t have the first clue what he was going to say to her proposition. But she knew she needed to make it anyway, or forever brand herself a coward.
Her throat felt tight and dry as she said, “I’ve got to get going in a few minutes, but I was wondering if maybe you’d like to try and get together tonight?"
She swore she saw heat flare in his eyes, the heat neither of them had been able to bank. Oh please, please, please let him say yes! Because now that she’d put herself out there, now that she’d admitted what she wanted—him!—she couldn’t stand the thought of not getting it.
“How old are you, Nicola?”
“Twenty-five.” She tried not to say it defensively.
“I’m thirty-six.” He pushed off his stool and picked up both coffee cups as he headed for the sink. “I shouldn’t have been in that club last night.” His shoulders were tense as he explained, “I was angry about something and I thought I could get over it by going to a club and taking someone home for sex.”
It was the first time either of them had used the word.
Sex.
One syllable, three little letters, sizzled between them. And, oh, it made her want him more than ever, even though he was trying to use the word to back away from her, trying to set up reasons why they couldn’t have their night.
Her parents had always said what a stubborn child she’d been, and nothing had changed for her as an adult. If anything, her experiences in the music business, dealing with almost constant rejection and having to bounce back from it, had only made her more stubborn.
He nodded, then said, “You don’t live here, either, do you?”
She hadn’t missed the fact that while he’d answered her question, he’d quickly changed the subject afterward.
It was a reminder that this was just small talk between two strangers who were never going to see each other again. She shouldn’t be upset that he didn’t want to tell her where he worked. He was probably afraid she’d hunt him down and become a big nuisance. No doubt plenty of girls had tried to latch onto him over the years.
Besides, she wasn’t exactly gung-ho about sharing a bunch of details about her life with him, was she?
Nearly as vague as he’d been, she said, “I’m from a teeny, tiny little town in upstate New York, but I’ve always loved the west coast.”
There. That was perfectly impersonal. They were both behaving like two rational adults who had almost made the mistake of having a one-night stand, but had somehow slipped out of the night unscathed.
She should be happy.
But she wasn’t.
Because for a few wonderful minutes the previous night, she’d reveled in irrational, unfettered desire and anticipation.
Rational sucked by comparison.
She swiveled on her stool to face him more directly. “I’m still really embarrassed about calling your mother like that.”
The last thing she expected was for his laughter to rumble through the room.
It was such a beautiful sound—rich and deep, if a bit rusty—that she had a sudden vision of capturing it like the sea witch had Ariel’s voice in the Little Mermaid movie, in a little locket she could wear around her neck and take out to replay whenever she needed a pick-me-up.
“Trust me,” he told her, “I’m sure she enjoyed talking with you. A great deal.”
“What are you going to tell her?” She quickly clarified, “About me, I mean, and the question I asked her about you.”
“If you were safe with me?"
Her breath left her in a whoosh and it was all she could do just to nod as the sensual tension between them jumped up a notch.
But instead of dropping it, she said, “I was safe with you,” barely above a whisper. Almost before she realized it, she was reaching out to touch his hand, only inches away.
She wished she’d been awake for long enough to really appreciate his holding her hand. Instead, she’d slept through some of the most wonderful moments of her life—Marcus’s hands holding hers, his warmth cradling her.
Now, as the sunlight streamed in through the large kitchen windows of his brother’s house, she pulled her hand back barely an inch before she would have made contact.
“What do you want me to tell her?”
She lifted her eyes from his large hands, hands she still couldn’t stop wishing were holding her, caressing her, and despite the warm sun coming in, a shiver went through her as she looked up at him.
“Maybe,” she said slowly, “you could tell her you made a new friend last night.”
“A new friend.”
As her words came back at her in his deliciously low voice, she thought, I wish it were actually true. I wish we actually were friends. And more. So much more.
She licked her lips and his eyes followed the path of her tongue. When his gaze met hers again, the heat from the night before was back in spades.
She knew he had to see it in her gaze, too. A part of her thought she should try to hide it, but nothing had changed between last night and this morning.
She was still senselessly attracted to him.
Suddenly, she wondered why she was so intent on pushing him away. Marcus was gorgeous, the best-looking man she’d met in forever. Okay, so last night hadn’t worked out, but she was in town for several more.
Oh God, she was terrible at this, didn’t have the first clue how to proposition Marcus for the second time in twenty-four hours. Last night, she’d been able to play off the loud music, the dark lighting, her leather dress and heels. But sitting here in a kitchen drinking coffee in an oversized sweatshirt...she had none of those sexy trappings to help her find her way.
The thing was, she already knew she’d regret it like crazy if she walked away from Marcus without even trying.
One night. She deserved one night with a guy like this, didn’t she? Just because she’d blown last night by falling asleep, didn’t mean she should give up. If that had been how she’d approached the music business, she never would have gone beyond playing open mics at coffee shops.
Of course, she’d have to tell him who she was if he agreed to another night with her. Heck, she knew she needed to tell him anyway. How unfair would it be to him if he walked out of here and got a call from one of his friends or family asking him why he’d been holding out on them about being Nico’s newest flame?
Not looking forward to that part of the conversation one bit, she decided to lead with, “I’m going to be in the city for a few more nights.” She picked up her cup again and gulped the rest of the coffee.
His expression was unreadable. She didn’t have the first clue what he was going to say to her proposition. But she knew she needed to make it anyway, or forever brand herself a coward.
Her throat felt tight and dry as she said, “I’ve got to get going in a few minutes, but I was wondering if maybe you’d like to try and get together tonight?"
She swore she saw heat flare in his eyes, the heat neither of them had been able to bank. Oh please, please, please let him say yes! Because now that she’d put herself out there, now that she’d admitted what she wanted—him!—she couldn’t stand the thought of not getting it.
“How old are you, Nicola?”
“Twenty-five.” She tried not to say it defensively.
“I’m thirty-six.” He pushed off his stool and picked up both coffee cups as he headed for the sink. “I shouldn’t have been in that club last night.” His shoulders were tense as he explained, “I was angry about something and I thought I could get over it by going to a club and taking someone home for sex.”
It was the first time either of them had used the word.
Sex.
One syllable, three little letters, sizzled between them. And, oh, it made her want him more than ever, even though he was trying to use the word to back away from her, trying to set up reasons why they couldn’t have their night.
Her parents had always said what a stubborn child she’d been, and nothing had changed for her as an adult. If anything, her experiences in the music business, dealing with almost constant rejection and having to bounce back from it, had only made her more stubborn.
