from Royal. Even when he’d come home for the holidays, something had changed. He’d grown distant, careful, around her.
At first, she’d thought it was because he had found someone to be serious about, and perhaps that other woman didn’t want him spending time with Aria. The truth was more daunting and less easily understood.
Ethan didn’t have relationships. At least not in Royal. Presumably there were women in Houston. But the gossip mill characterized even those rumored liaisons as one-night stands. Strictly physical. Nothing more.
He was alone, and he liked it that way.
Aria sat down beside him deliberately, leaving only three or four feet between them. Ethan Barringer was the reason she had found every other romantic relationship in her life to be dull and uninspired. Her longtime crush on him was keeping her from having the kind of life she wanted and deserved. Maybe tonight’s meeting was serendipity. Or karma.
The time for being a passive, well-behaved female was over. Something existed between Ethan and her. She was prepared to find out what it was, even if the prospect made her shiver with nerves.
What she contemplated was the equivalent of poking a stick into a lion’s cage. You thought you were safe, but the beast might break loose and devour you.
“Ethan.” She said his name a bit louder.
He jerked and scrubbed his hands over his face. “Sorry about that,” he muttered. “I’ve been running on caffeine and four hours’ sleep.”
“No worries.” She handed him the bottle of champagne. “You should open it. I don’t have much experience in that area.”
He shot her a glance. “And you think I do?” But he took the bottle, anyway.
Their fingers brushed. Her throat dried.
Ethan wrestled with the wire and the foil. “Shouldn’t we do this in the kitchen in case it makes a mess?”
She put a hand on his thigh—quite deliberately—and felt the warmth of his taut muscle. “I’m prepared to live dangerously tonight.”
Ethan stood up abruptly to wrestle with the champagne, causing her hand to fall away. Had he done it on purpose? His cheekbones were flushed with a slash of red. She could swear when she’d said the word dangerously he flinched.
There was a loud pop, and the cork shot across the room. Ethan grabbed a glass. “I was afraid this would happen.” He rapidly poured the foaming liquid into two flutes.
Aria used the dish towel she had brought along and mopped up the small puddle. “It’s fine.”
Ethan handed her a glass. “Ladies first.”
She lifted her flute and clinked it against his. “To you, Ethan. Kudos for all your hard work and everything you’ve achieved. Perry Construction is lucky to have you.”
His smile was sheepish but pleased. “Thanks, Aria.”
Their gazes locked as they each drained a glass. Though Aria was no connoisseur, this particular vintage was perfect for her taste. She had spent a lot on this bottle since it was supposed to be for a party. Now she was glad. “You’re welcome,” she said softly. “I’m happy we ran into each other. No one should have to celebrate alone.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed. Noticeably. “More?” he asked, the word low and hoarse.
She nodded, holding out her glass. “It’s good, isn’t it? I’ve always heard that the bubbles can make you sneeze, but I’ve never had that reaction at all. I like champagne.”
“Most people do,” he said drily. “Or at least they pretend they do. Why else would it have a reputation for kicking off celebrations?”
He cupped his hand around hers to steady the glass as he filled it a second time. “This will be it for me,” she said firmly, trying to pretend that she wasn’t totally flustered by the way he touched her.
He raised an eyebrow as he released her and refilled his own glass. “No head for alcohol?”
“I’m pretty much a lightweight,” she admitted as she took a sip. “I don’t metabolize it rapidly enough. Makes me a cheap date, though.”
Again, he raised his glass, his gaze hooded as he stared at her. “There’s never been anything cheap about you, Aria. You’re a class act all the way.”
The unexpected compliment startled her. Was that arousal she saw in his eyes? Hunger she heard in his voice?
She’d only had a glass and a half of champagne. She was in complete control of her choices and her behavior. But her emotions were something else entirely. Suddenly, an almost overwhelming yearning crashed over her like a tsunami, carrying everything away in its path.
For a moment, she was sixteen again. That was the age she had been when she’d first fallen in love with Ethan Barringer. Her parents had told her it was puppy love and that she would grow out of it. Her friends had told her he was older and too sophisticated to ever think seriously about a girl like her.
But Aria knew Ethan. She knew his caring and his protective chivalry, for lack of a better word. She knew his honor and his devotion to his mother. And she knew the way he looked at her when he thought she wouldn’t see.
All the way through the remainder of high school and the four years she’d spent away at college she’d carried her love for him. When she’d returned to Royal, Ethan had been back, as well. A man...no longer a boy.
It had seemed like the time might finally be right for her and Ethan to get together. But she’d been too bashful to make a move, and Ethan had never given any indication he was interested in her romantically. He’d been friendly. But distant. He’d kept any softer emotions he might possess locked away.
His new, blunt-edged masculinity put a wall between them. He wasn’t approachable anymore. For several years, she’d mooned after him, and then he was gone to Houston.
It had been a difficult time in her life. She’d had to take a long, hard look at herself. Eventually, she’d made peace with the truth. Ethan wasn’t for her. Maybe he never had been.
In the intervening years she’d dated several men. Nice guys with steady jobs and no apparent aversion to settling down eventually. But something had always been missing. Only two boyfriends had made it into her bed. The sex had been nice. Pleasurable. Not earthshaking. She’d finally decided that she had let herself be brainwashed by books and movies.
There was no such thing as a soul mate.
Now, a chance encounter with a man she had known since she was nine years old threatened to shred her hard-won peace.
Ethan poured himself one last glass. The bottle was almost empty. He held it up with a question on his face. She shook her head and said, “The rest is yours.” He outweighed her significantly. It wouldn’t hurt him to drink the last of the champagne on his own.
She set her empty crystal flute on the coffee table and watched as he finished the sparkling golden liquid. Moments later, he abandoned his glass, as well.
Ethan
