of computer games. She always said they made her feel normal. Well, normal-ish.
He couldn’t wait to see her.
He’d had a beer with dinner, but now it was time for a little Johnnie Walker Black. Nightcap of champions.
Matt’s bones ached and he had that plane smell on him. He’d let the scotch settle him down, have a long hot shower, then hit the sheets.
But as he sipped his drink, another memory, not a great one, stirred. Like so many college kids, he’d done his share of foolish things, made a few reckless choices, engaged in some risky behavior that would’ve stunned anyone who knew him now. He wasn’t proud of any of it, but that night long ago when he’d messed up with Sam was the worst. The truth was, things had changed after that. He’d learned a lot about the wisdom of sobriety that night. That was all in the past, though, and now he’d have a chance to get to know her again. At least, he hoped so. She’d sounded a little reluctant. But then, with Sam it was hard to tell for sure. He’d forgotten just how much she disliked talking on the phone.
Picturing her with the stupid nose ring, he smiled. Seeing her again and catching up was going to be pure, uncomplicated fun.
SAM LEANED AGAINST the wall, staring out the window of the smart apartment from an angle so Matt couldn’t see her when he finally arrived.
If he arrived. But of course he was coming, because he’d said so. She’d hate to think she’d gone through the crazy whirlwind of deciding what to wear for nothing. Good Lord, she must’ve tried on everything in her closet, avoiding the sweatshirts, T-shirts and leggings that made up most of her wardrobe. She wanted to look good for Matt. But the few dresses she owned for wearing to conferences and business meetings made her feel like an impostor when she put them on.
So Sam had compromised. Business slacks with her nicest San Diego Comic-Con T-shirt. She’d had the shirt for a long time, but it would be new to Matt. It was blue with long sleeves. She’d tried pushing those up, but her arm freckles made the decision to wear them down very easy. Still, it was a good hair day and she was thankful for small favors.
Now it was all she could do not to run back home and put on a sweatshirt and leggings. What had she been thinking?
Ha. As if she didn’t know. Matt was coming. Today. Any minute. So she could give him the key. Which meant she’d slept like shit. When Clark had offered to give him the key, she’d immediately said no. He’d seemed agitated. Probably because it meant she wouldn’t be working. But screw it. SOC was her company, and she could take a few hours off if she wanted to.
Or maybe Clark wasn’t piqued because she wouldn’t be working but because of why she wouldn’t be working. Did he not like Matt? Huh. She’d have to think about that. Was it because she’d worn her dress pants? Did Clark think she was selling out? Trying to be someone she wasn’t? The fact that she turned into an idiot when she was around Matt wasn’t anything new in her life, and Clark had no doubt caught on. Her crush had lasted a really long time.
Clark might be upset at her foolishness, and she couldn’t fault his logic. Especially when she considered that Matt wouldn’t care what she wore.
She shouldn’t have cared, either. But she had the feeling Matt would look spiffy and handsome as hell and she hadn’t wanted to— Something caught her eye at the window. Oh, God. Matt. He was here. Getting out of a taxi—
Not a town car. Most of his family lived here. Their corporate office was located downtown. She hadn’t expected a taxi.
Or for her reaction to be this bad.
How had her mouth already dried up? Her heart had been pounding since she’d seen him in her peripheral vision. For heaven’s sake, butterflies and panic were battling to the death in her chest. Why hadn’t she just let Clark give him the damn key?
Matt was taking his time. Checking out the brownstones that lined the street before taking the shady brick walkway that led to the apartment. He looked like her Matt, but different, too. Broader of chest, certainly. He seemed taller, but she doubted that was true. Maybe his black jeans and gray V-neck sweater made him appear taller than the six foot one she knew he was. His jacket was dark, maybe suede, and looked as if it would be nice to curl up against.
Not that she would be curling up against anyone.
Even his luggage looked sharp. And—wow—he’d brought a lot. An extra-large suitcase on wheels and a brown garment bag. Was he planning to stay until winter?
Just as he was reaching the front door, she realized she’d been squeezing the key so hard it had left a deep groove in her hand. The hand he’d want to shake. No, he’d want a hug.
She hadn’t considered—
The sound of the doorbell made her jump. Oh, this was going to be a load of fun. Why was she stressing so much? This was Matt. They were practically brother and sister. Except for that one time... Shit. Why did she have to think of that?
She needed to concentrate on breathing. And trying not to pass out. After a long, deep breath, she squared her shoulders and opened the door.
Holy crap. Matt’s brown eyes and perfectly shaped mouth were the same, yet he was so much better-looking than she’d remembered. A man now, not a boy. And the smile he gave her sent shivers through her body. She knew that grin. It changed his face. He could look really serious and foreboding if he wanted to, but when he whipped out that grin, he became a tease, a wink, a promise.
“Wow,” he said, his voice lower, maybe not. “You look great.”
“Me?” She pointed at him. “You—”
“Look the same, just old.” He paused, waited. “Mind if I come in?”
“Of course.” She quickly stood aside. And she wasn’t disappointed that there’d been no hug. Hugs were overdone. They hadn’t seen each other for years. She closed the door, focusing on the image of his smile, even as she understood it would haunt her dreams for ages.
* * *
MATT LEFT HIS LUGGAGE off to the side and watched Sam turn in her Comic-Con shirt, with her copper-colored hair shifting over her shoulders. She was a woman now, beautifully sculpted with curves that hadn’t been there when he’d last seen her. But that shirt? That was pure Sammy.
He couldn’t get over it. The pictures online hadn’t done her justice at all. She didn’t have prom-queen beauty—that wasn’t Sam. She could stand to put on a couple of pounds and her smile was a little crooked, but she had amazing green eyes that lit up like firecrackers. Standing there in front of him was everything he’d always liked about Sammy, with the addition of womanly grace that only time and experience could bring.
He couldn’t wait another moment. “Come here,” he said, holding his arms out, taking the first step.
A blush stole over her cheeks but she came willingly, and then she was in his arms. A second later, hers went around his waist, under his jacket.
It wasn’t the MIT hug he was used to.
They’d never pressed this close, never hung on for beat after beat
