She expected him to blink in surprise. Laugh maybe. Relax certainly. Instead, he pulled back, his gaze shuttering. He thought she was mocking him.
“I was flirting,” she said. “I … Jayne and Tina … well, they talked, and I … You sounded like a nice guy.”
“Nice?”
Her cheeks heated. “Among other things. I know how terrible this sounds, but I didn’t know you, and it’s been a while …”
“Been a while?” he repeated.
Now her cheeks seared. Shut up. Just shut up. But she couldn’t. Not while he was giving her that chilly look. She had to get traction. Somehow.
“Sex,” she blurted. “It’s been a while. I’ve never had a one-night stand, and you seemed … I wanted …”
“Some of what I appeared to be freely offering?”
“Oh God, even plastered, I know how bad this sounds. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”
Was she imagining things or did he seem to be relaxing? A hint of a smile in his eyes? Nope, she was imagining it. She had to be.
She plowed forward. “I didn’t know you. Yes, that’s a lousy excuse. If you were a woman and I was a guy thinking that, it’d be wrong and insulting, so it still is, and I apologize. I’m just trying to explain why … I didn’t mean to offend you this afternoon.”
“You were flirting.” Definitely a hint of a smile in his eyes now.
“I … I thought if I talked about you and them, you’d know I was okay with it, that I wasn’t a prude or anything. I was trying to open the door.”
“I see.” He watched her for at least ten seconds, then burst out laughing. When he recovered, he said, “Not a lot of experience with flirting, I take it?”
“None.”
“You may want to work on your technique.”
She sputtered a laugh. “You think?” They both laughed.
Then Vanessa sobered. “I am sorry. I think you’re a great guy, and that was a lousy thing to do. I was wrong to presume … well, to presume anything. The point is that I’m not the least bit concerned that you brought me here to seduce me. You wouldn’t do that, and not just because you don’t need to. You’ll be a gentleman because that’s what you are.”
He shrugged, pulling back as if uncomfortable with the compliment. “It’s basic respect.”
“I know. I’m just saying that I appreciate it.” She forced a smile. “And that I know I have nothing to worry about, even without that ‘basic respect.’”
A smile played on his lips. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that. Since we’re being honest, I’ll admit that I possibly was playing to type this afternoon, checking you out when we met. Which doesn’t mean we’d have ended up in bed. I’d like to think there’s a little more to my decision-making than, ‘Damn, she’s hot,’ but there was that, and I’ll admit it, even if it makes me seem like exactly what you expected.”
“You aren’t what I expected.” She met his gaze. “At all.”
He pulled back again, as if not displeased with the implied flattery but not comfortable with it, either. Then he smiled and shook his head. “I think three gimlets is past your limit.”
“It is.” She paused. “Wait, did you say I was hot?”
He laughed. “Definitely past your limit. Let’s get you to bed. Alone.”
“Damn.”
He leaned forward and she thought he was going to say something. But he kissed her. The shock of that almost made her pull back. Luckily, she recovered fast enough to return it. When she tried to put her hands around his neck, though, he caught and held them, and kept kissing her, a gentle kiss that promised more but did not deliver on that promise. Sweet and careful, like a first kiss after a high school date, a kiss that said simply, I like you. It also said, quite clearly, This is all you’re getting, but added a subtle … for now.
“Time for bed,” he said when he pulled back. “For sleep.”
“I know. You take it. I’ve got the sofa.”
He shook his head. “Absolutely not. I’m taking—”
She cut him off with a wave, walked over, and pulled out the sofa bed. He hurried to help.
“This is mine,” he said.
“Mine.” She flounced down onto it and lay back. “And I’m not moving. So unless you want to share …”
His gaze traveled over her, and she swore that gaze was like gasoline, her demon fire igniting and searing a path down her body. She reached up and undid the first button on her shirt. Then the second. He watched, his breath coming faster. When she undid her front bra clasp, he yanked his gaze up to her eyes.
“You’re drunk,” he said.
“Doesn’t matter.”
A wistful smile shattered the lust in his dark eyes. “Yes, it does.” He walked over to the sofa, leaned down, and kissed her again, that sweet promise of a kiss. “I appreciate the offer,” he said when he pulled back. “I would love to accept, but …”
She lifted up and kissed him, that same kiss, in it nothing except promise.
“Thank you,” she said, then fastened her shirt and watched him retreat to his side of the room.
20. NICK
When Nick woke to sunlight streaming into the room, he bolted up, certain he’d forgotten to set his alarm for driving Noah to school. Then he saw the half-closed curtains … which were not his curtains. The night rushed back and he sat there, propped up, taking a moment to process it. Then his gaze swung to the sofa bed where Vanessa was …
The sofa bed was empty.
Now he did jump up, his legs swinging out, feet hitting the floor. Had she left? Woken sober, remembered the gimlets and the conversation and the kisses, and slipped out in embarrassment? He paused. No, Vanessa wasn’t stupid. She wouldn’t run off when Malcolm was on the prowl.
A noise sounded across the room. He noticed light under the bathroom door, exhaled, and lay back down.
He shouldn’t have kissed her. She’d been drunk and from the way she’d been blushing furiously when she admitted she’d hoped to seduce him, he had a feeling she was regretting that kiss.
But he couldn’t help himself. She’d been so flustered, so anxious to apologize, even if it meant embarrassing herself with her confession.
Last night, he’d seen many sides of Vanessa. The cool leader and the tough agent, certainly, but also the pain and grief and blame over Tina, and the blame and self-recrimination over Stokes. In spite of that, she’d been determined to see this through.
He hadn’t fought very hard when Elena and Rhys decided she could stay. He still wished she’d gotten on that plane—for her own safety—but he wasn’t exactly gritting his teeth and counting down the hours until they could go their separate ways.
Yet they would go their separate ways. Eventually. And there’d been a moment, lying in bed last night after kissing her, when he’d tried to figure out how to see her again. He supposed the answer was easy—just say, “Hey, I’d like to see you again.” But he had no idea where she lived, and if she wasn’t a short drive from New York, then “getting together” involved serious effort, which would imply that, well, he was serious. That wasn’t a message he’d ever send. Not on so short an acquaintance.
The bathroom door opened. Vanessa walked out, dressed in her button-down shirt and, from what he could tell, nothing else. If he’d pictured how she might look the morning after sex—and yes, let’s be honest, he had—this was it, her long hair mussed, falling over the half-buttoned shirt, her full breasts pushing against the fabric as she walked, her long legs bare, shirt riding up enough to give him teasing glimpses of full hips and …