style="font-size:15px;"> His gaze, hot and heavy, was locked on her. Unblinking. Unsettling.
“You’re not even looking.” And then she realized what he meant and heat flushed her nearly exposed breasts again. “Um, didn’t you promise me a drink?”
“I did. Come with me.”
Apparently loath to let go of her hand, he led her to a wet bar where an uncorked bottle of wine stood next to two wineglasses. From that vantage point, she could see into the dining room, where a long table was set for two.
“Your servants have been busy,” she commented as he finally dropped her hand to pour the red wine, filling each glass far past the line she’d have said would be an acceptable amount for a lightweight drinker such as herself.
But then, Reid didn’t really know that about her.
“I gave my servants the night off.” He handed her a glass and when she took it, he held his up in a quick toast. “To old friends.”
She nodded and tossed back a healthy swallow. How she got the wine down her throat was beyond her; he hadn’t taken his eyes off her once since she’d walked through the door and her self-consciousness was so thick you could cut it with a knife.
They were alone in this penthouse where no one could enter unless they had a special key for the elevator. Blessedly, deliciously alone. Should she be frightened? She wasn’t.
Reid had gone to some trouble in anticipation of her arrival. The ambiance was sensual, edgy and quite delicious. All hard things to come by as a widowed single mom. Maybe she was far more wicked than she should be, but Reid made her feel beautiful and desirable and she wasn’t going to apologize for liking it.
“Tell me something,” she said impulsively, suddenly interested in picking up the thread of their conversation from the hallway. “You said you’d been waiting fifteen years for me to show up. What did you mean?”
He cocked his head, tossing a few curls into disarray, and she liked that he wasn’t one of those men who used a ton of hair products. She could slide her fingers through his hair easily.
The thought warmed her further. That would be bold, indeed, if she just reached out and touched him. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t—or wouldn’t—do it.
“Our friendship means something to me. I...didn’t ever tell you that.”
“Oh.” A bit thunderstruck, she stared at him as the lines around his mouth grew deeper, expressing more than what his words had. Was he disappointed that he’d never told her for some reason? “That’s okay, Reid. We developed other friendships and went on.”
“You did. I didn’t.”
His cryptic words perplexed her. “You mean you didn’t make other friends? But you were always with the popular crowd, piling into each other’s cars after school and leaving dances or football games together to go someplace more exciting. Or at least that’s always how I imagined it.”
Reid shrugged slightly. “I passed the time with them. That’s all.”
Things weren’t as they appeared back when they’d been in high school? Her heart turned over with a squish. “Sounds like you were a recluse in training, even then.”
If things weren’t as they appeared back then, what’s to say the same wasn’t true now?
His expression darkened. “In a way. I’ve never had much luck connecting with people.”
“Except me.”
Bold. But she didn’t take it back. They’d been dancing around each other and she wanted to get on with the evening, whatever that entailed.
Their gazes met and he watched her as he sipped his wine, neither confirming nor denying the statement.
Go bold or go home. It was her new mantra, one she wanted to embrace all at once.
“Is that why you invited me to dinner?” she asked with a small smile. “Because you’re lonely?”
* * *
“There’s a difference between being lonely and desiring to be alone,” Reid countered.
“That doesn’t really answer my question, now does it?”
Nora was so close, Reid could easily count the individual strands of hair—honey wheat, warm sand, a few shoots of platinum—draped over her shoulder. He suspected it would be cool to the touch if he slid a strand through his fingers.
Dinner had been a mistake.
He’d wrongly thought that he and Nora would catch up, talk a bit about the past, that it would be an innocent opportunity to reminisce about an easier time. Before his world had crashed around his feet. He’d craved that with blinding necessity.
Instead, he’d spent the ten minutes she’d been in his penthouse trying desperately to keep his hands occupied so he didn’t pull her into his arms to see if she tasted as good as she smelled. To see exactly what was under that black dress that showcased a body he hadn’t remembered being so difficult to ignore.
You didn’t seduce an old friend the moment she crossed your threshold. It was uncivilized and smacked of the kind of thing a man with his reputation would do. He’d done his share of perpetuating the myths surrounding his wickedness, mostly because it amused him.
Nora deserved better.
The problem was he had no interest in eating. At all. He’d developed an intense fixation with the hollow between Nora’s breasts, which were scarcely contained by the bits of fabric that composed her dress.
You didn’t stare at an old friend’s rack, no matter how clearly she was inviting you to.
There were probably some other rules he should be reciting to himself right about now, but hell if he could remember what they were.
It had been too long since he’d had a woman in his bed; that was the problem. Nora Winchester O’Malley shouldn’t be the one inciting him to break that fast. If he wanted to make the evening about catching up with an old friend, that was in his power to do.
“You’re right,” he allowed with a nod. “I didn’t answer the question. I invited you to dinner because I wanted to thank you for being a good friend to me. The scales were unbalanced.”
“Oh.” Disappointment shadowed her gaze but she blinked and it was gone. “So dinner was motivated by the need to say thank you. For both of us, it seems.”
“It seems.”
That should have dispelled the sensual, tight awareness between them. That had been his intent. But she smiled and it lit up her face, inviting him in, warming up the places inside that had been cold since the plane crash that had changed everything.
“I feel properly thanked. Do you?” she asked.
“For what?” he nearly growled as he fought to stop himself from yanking her into his arms.
“For
