The Trouble with Love
Page 13
“I think I see what’s going on here,” Benedict said, wiggling his eyebrows. “You’re trying to lure me in early before you introduce me to your pet rat collection at your real home.”
“No, no, I think I see what’s going on here,” she teased back. “You’re just using me for my cushy, short-term apartment.”
He nodded solemnly. “And when Camille comes back, I’ll woo her instead. Retain my rightful place in this building.”
Emma laughed. “Isn’t Camille friends with your mother? Isn’t that…wrong?”
“It’s got a certain Graduate feel to it, I’ll admit, but it’s a dog-eat-dog world, Sinclair.”
They smiled at each other.
If it were the fifth date (give or take), the moment would have absolutely warranted a Wanna come up?
But Emma wasn’t there…not quite yet.
However, maybe a kiss…just to see where they stood with the whole physical attraction thing.
Benedict seemed to read her just right, because his smile went just a little bit sexy, and he took a step toward her.
Emma tilted her head up and watched his slow approach, evaluating his moves. (She couldn’t help it. At the end of the day, she was still a relationships columnist—always looking for material, always assessing.)
And this guy passed.
Very nice, Mr. Wade. Slow and sexy, and very nice indeed.
If there was a ripple of unease before his lips touched hers, Emma ignored it. She refused to hear that tiny voice in the back of her head whispering, Wrong guy, wrong guy!
That little voice had been the pain in Emma’s ass for seven long years. Ever since things imploded between her and Cassidy.
That little voice was insane. She mentally muted it. Smiled up at Benedict.
But then, just before the moment where he’d dip his head down, his eyes flicked over her shoulder and widened before a smile broke out.
“Alex fucking Cassidy.”
Emma blinked. She could have sworn she’d shushed that pesky little voice. Surely the voice hadn’t spoken out loud?
But no…
Benedict was no longer paying attention to her.
Alex Cassidy wasn’t just here in her mind. He was here in the flesh.
She could kill Camille. Truly.
The two men were shaking hands like old friends. This was great. This was just fantastic.
Emma was tempted to storm back into her apartment, help herself to the open bottle of Merlot on her counter, and pretend that the best first date she’d been on in months wasn’t chatting it up with her ex.
But that would give Cassidy too much power.
Instead, she pivoted on the heel of her Louboutin boots and moved toward the two men.
“Emma, this is Alex Cassidy,” Benedict said, when she stepped up beside him. “I played soccer against this guy in college. I’d completely forgotten that Camille mentioned they were neighbors!”
“Did she now?” Emma murmured. Apparently Camille had managed to mention it to someone.
She felt Cassidy’s eyes on hers, but when she flicked her gaze toward him, his flicked away. Not before she saw that they were blue tonight. It had been a game they’d played back in the day. Aqua eyes, she’d called them. She’d been forever trying to figure out which she’d preferred: the days when they glowed green or the days when they burned blue.
“Where’d you go to college?” she asked Benedict.
“Duke. I was goalie at the same time Cassidy here was striker.”
“I’m surprised you two are on speaking terms after the game. The one that went to penalty kicks?”
Benedict glanced at her in surprise at her knowledge of collegiate sports, and she gave a sheepish shrug. “Go Tar Heels?”
“Holy shit,” he said, looking from her to Cassidy. “You both went to UNC? Did you know each other?”
“We did,” Emma said, before Cassidy could open his fat mouth and say something horrid.
“Wow, small world,” Benedict said.
You have no idea.
“Camille actually asked me if I thought you two would click,” Cassidy said, his expression all pleasantness.
“Yeah?” Benedict asked.
Cassidy’s smile was quick. “I told her absolutely.”
Emma rolled her eyes, just as Benedict rested a casual hand on her waist. “Well, guess I should thank you then.”
Cassidy grinned. “Call it me making amends for the way that last game played out.”
Benedict laughed. “Do you know how many times I’ve replayed that moment? I was so sure you were going to go right. There was only a flicker of doubt that maybe you’d go left….”
Emma knew how this story went. Knew Benedict had done what most keepers would have done.
But Cassidy had changed the rules. He hadn’t gone right. Or left. He’d aimed dead center, his kick securing UNC’s victory over one if its most bitter rivals.
Emma couldn’t believe she hadn’t placed Benedict as that poor goalie from that epic night. But then, perhaps she shouldn’t be surprised that she hadn’t recognized him.
Back then, she’d had eyes for only one guy.
Emma was spared more soccer talk by the arrival of a cab at the curb. The doorman at Camille’s building opened it, and Cassidy’s attention shifted.
A familiar brunette approached. Danielle.
Emma smiled reflexively as Alex’s girlfriend turned their awkward threesome into an unbearable foursome.
“No, no, I think I see what’s going on here,” she teased back. “You’re just using me for my cushy, short-term apartment.”
He nodded solemnly. “And when Camille comes back, I’ll woo her instead. Retain my rightful place in this building.”
Emma laughed. “Isn’t Camille friends with your mother? Isn’t that…wrong?”
“It’s got a certain Graduate feel to it, I’ll admit, but it’s a dog-eat-dog world, Sinclair.”
They smiled at each other.
If it were the fifth date (give or take), the moment would have absolutely warranted a Wanna come up?
But Emma wasn’t there…not quite yet.
However, maybe a kiss…just to see where they stood with the whole physical attraction thing.
Benedict seemed to read her just right, because his smile went just a little bit sexy, and he took a step toward her.
Emma tilted her head up and watched his slow approach, evaluating his moves. (She couldn’t help it. At the end of the day, she was still a relationships columnist—always looking for material, always assessing.)
And this guy passed.
Very nice, Mr. Wade. Slow and sexy, and very nice indeed.
If there was a ripple of unease before his lips touched hers, Emma ignored it. She refused to hear that tiny voice in the back of her head whispering, Wrong guy, wrong guy!
That little voice had been the pain in Emma’s ass for seven long years. Ever since things imploded between her and Cassidy.
That little voice was insane. She mentally muted it. Smiled up at Benedict.
But then, just before the moment where he’d dip his head down, his eyes flicked over her shoulder and widened before a smile broke out.
“Alex fucking Cassidy.”
Emma blinked. She could have sworn she’d shushed that pesky little voice. Surely the voice hadn’t spoken out loud?
But no…
Benedict was no longer paying attention to her.
Alex Cassidy wasn’t just here in her mind. He was here in the flesh.
She could kill Camille. Truly.
The two men were shaking hands like old friends. This was great. This was just fantastic.
Emma was tempted to storm back into her apartment, help herself to the open bottle of Merlot on her counter, and pretend that the best first date she’d been on in months wasn’t chatting it up with her ex.
But that would give Cassidy too much power.
Instead, she pivoted on the heel of her Louboutin boots and moved toward the two men.
“Emma, this is Alex Cassidy,” Benedict said, when she stepped up beside him. “I played soccer against this guy in college. I’d completely forgotten that Camille mentioned they were neighbors!”
“Did she now?” Emma murmured. Apparently Camille had managed to mention it to someone.
She felt Cassidy’s eyes on hers, but when she flicked her gaze toward him, his flicked away. Not before she saw that they were blue tonight. It had been a game they’d played back in the day. Aqua eyes, she’d called them. She’d been forever trying to figure out which she’d preferred: the days when they glowed green or the days when they burned blue.
“Where’d you go to college?” she asked Benedict.
“Duke. I was goalie at the same time Cassidy here was striker.”
“I’m surprised you two are on speaking terms after the game. The one that went to penalty kicks?”
Benedict glanced at her in surprise at her knowledge of collegiate sports, and she gave a sheepish shrug. “Go Tar Heels?”
“Holy shit,” he said, looking from her to Cassidy. “You both went to UNC? Did you know each other?”
“We did,” Emma said, before Cassidy could open his fat mouth and say something horrid.
“Wow, small world,” Benedict said.
You have no idea.
“Camille actually asked me if I thought you two would click,” Cassidy said, his expression all pleasantness.
“Yeah?” Benedict asked.
Cassidy’s smile was quick. “I told her absolutely.”
Emma rolled her eyes, just as Benedict rested a casual hand on her waist. “Well, guess I should thank you then.”
Cassidy grinned. “Call it me making amends for the way that last game played out.”
Benedict laughed. “Do you know how many times I’ve replayed that moment? I was so sure you were going to go right. There was only a flicker of doubt that maybe you’d go left….”
Emma knew how this story went. Knew Benedict had done what most keepers would have done.
But Cassidy had changed the rules. He hadn’t gone right. Or left. He’d aimed dead center, his kick securing UNC’s victory over one if its most bitter rivals.
Emma couldn’t believe she hadn’t placed Benedict as that poor goalie from that epic night. But then, perhaps she shouldn’t be surprised that she hadn’t recognized him.
Back then, she’d had eyes for only one guy.
Emma was spared more soccer talk by the arrival of a cab at the curb. The doorman at Camille’s building opened it, and Cassidy’s attention shifted.
A familiar brunette approached. Danielle.
Emma smiled reflexively as Alex’s girlfriend turned their awkward threesome into an unbearable foursome.
