Strong and right. Close. Hot.
Oh, God. She’d been so confident. So sure of her ability to handle her emotions where Nate was concerned. She’d handled them for years! But now it didn’t take more than one touch and her mind and body began their fast descent into bedroom territory. Wall territory.
Of course, what she’d been handling ten years ago had been the infatuation of a high-school girl—passionate and dramatic, yes, but ultimately only as deep as the girl herself. Which, at sixteen…
And then there was the little matter of ignorance versus experience. Now that she’d spent a night in his arms, she knew exactly what there was to miss. The heat of his hands, the taste of his skin, the touch of his mouth. Knowing he was more than she’d ever fantasized he would be.
The lock tumbled and Nate pushed the door open and then, following her into the relative warmth of the stairwell, he rubbed her shoulders in a few rough strokes.
“You’re soaked.”
“Me? What about you?” Rainwater beaded across the light cashmere covering his shoulders and back. Darkened the gold of his hair, weighing it down against his brow to give him a sort of Superman curl that begged to be twisted around her finger.
He waved her off with one hand, taking her elbow in the other. “Let’s get you upstairs before you freeze.”
Payton stalled. “I can manage. You should get home, though.”
Nate’s lips curved into a wry twist. “I’ll walk you up. Security, remember?”
She did remember. Only the last thing she wanted was Nate back in her apartment. They’d had an incredible afternoon together, but the underlying sizzle of attraction she’d nearly doused had begun to flame again. She didn’t want to acknowledge it. Not after the way they’d talked and laughed. She didn’t want anything threatening the easy camaraderie.
Still, what could she say? Nate had a way of getting what he wanted. And he wanted to make sure she got into her apartment safely. But he couldn’t come in. No matter what. Because if he did, she’d be offering him a drink while he warmed up. Offering to dry his shirt. Offering to help him take if off. Offering everything she had and was. No, he couldn’t come in.
She led the way, their quiet tread upon the stairs screaming volumes in the silence. Finally, reaching the landing, she closed her eyes and took a bracing breath. Opened them and turned to Nate. He stood, hands in his pockets, one shoulder propped against the wall.
“Don’t worry. I’m not coming in.”
“What? I wasn’t—”
He shook his head, cutting her off. “Yeah, I think you were.”
Her lips parted in protest, but quickly closed again.
He took a deep breath and shifted his weight, glancing down the empty stairwell. “We were together last night, Payton. It’s a safe bet we’re looking at more than twelve hours to kick whatever residual attraction there is between us back into something safe and platonic. Look, I know what happened between us was different for you. And for what it’s worth, it was different for me, too. So maybe we shouldn’t worry about a few rogue emotions or whatever we’ve got going on. If we give it some time the attraction’ll die off.”
She wanted to believe him. Only she knew from experience that some attractions had staying power for years. “What if it doesn’t?”
His lips twisted into a wry smile. “Well, then, I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
She shook her head. She needed this. “I want us to be friends.”
“Yeah.” He let out a low chuckle as if somehow surprised to find it so. “I do, too. Now get inside before I back you in there myself and ruin this whole buddy-buddy plan we’ve got going on. I’ll see you Tuesday.”
Chapter Ten
GLASSES clinked, laughter rose and the poignant melody of “Unforgettable” wound around her like a soothing embrace. Inspired by the classic song and its apt description of her past week, Payton swayed with each step on her way to the bar. She could feel the looks. Sense the questions multiplying around her. Heard one woman’s sharp, “What?” rise above the din.
She’d been identified—through process of elimination and then conspicuous absence—as Nate’s bridesmaid from the back hall, and word had been spreading like whispered wildfire for days. Already she’d faced the most brazen of her social set, descending upon her arrival with horrified expressions and ghastly rumors.
Of course they wouldn’t believe such nonsense about Payton, but she deserved to know what people were saying…
She responded with the appropriate denials and a flicker of nerves to feed suspicions, then beat a hasty exit, not trusting herself to fight the obnoxious grin threatening to take over her face. Now all she had to do was follow the plan, drop enough subtle hints with Nate to confirm what her reputation was leading people to reject—and Nate’s secret would be safe, buried beneath the rubble of Perfect Payton’s good-girl reputation.
“What’ll you have, miss?”
The bar was stocked with all the top-shelf labels and an assortment of excellent vintages including a nice Italian white she kept at home. “The Pinot, please.”
A glass was in her hand within seconds and, moving to a quiet corner a few feet off, she sipped, her mind bent to the task of fueling the frenzy of gossip already buzzing around her. The wine was cool and refreshing with a hint of fruity sweetness. A perfect complement to the spice of scandal.
Only then a nervous sense of anticipation swirled through her belly, spreading out until it licked over her skin.
Nate.
Lifting her gaze, she found him in an instant, dressed in an immaculately cut white dinner jacket, exchanging greetings with the owner of a bank a few feet from the main entrance. A flash of brilliant blue locked on her, held her rapt, inciting a sudden panic at the betraying heat flaring to life from one look alone.
She stood arrested beneath Nate’s considering scrutiny until a feral gleam lit his eyes and the corner of his mouth curved into a dark smile that touched her from clear across the room. Made her shudder.
Not platonic. Not by a long shot. But not for the crowd or the press or protecting a secret either.
What a mess.
She needed his friendship. Was desperate for it. But the pull of this attraction between them was playing with her body and mind, and it hadn’t died off in the slightest.
To go on as friends after a single night together was one thing, but if that single night turned into a string of nights, a week, a month—something finite, because she knew without question Nate wasn’t interested in forever—what would she be left with when it was done?
The press having a field day splashing her face across the rags. Speculating on why she couldn’t hold a man like him. Comparing her to whatever bit of glitz he picked up next. Dredging up Clint and then demanding to know what she’d been thinking.
Who was she kidding?
