To All a Good Night

by Donna Kauffman, Jill Shalvis

  “I used a car this time.”

  “Good call.”

  “You live alone?” she asked, tying to fit all the pieces she knew about him with the inviting family room in front of her.

  He set the glasses down with a clank on the marble kitchen countertop. “Nat, with the courthouse gossip, you’d know if I were married, engaged, or dating anyone seriously.”

  “Sure. Right.”

  “Hungry?”

  Always. Something in addition to the crackling fire smelled fabulous. She dropped her winter coat on his love seat and followed him back to the breakfast bar. “What do you have?”

  “I ordered pizza.”

  Pizza. Her downfall. The combination of cheese and dough zoomed right to her thighs and took up perpetual residence. Even forty-five pounds later, the evidence of her love of carbohydrates remained right there for anyone who saw her naked, which was just about no one unless that tape got out.

  “I made a salad to go with it.”

  “You can cook?”

  “Yeah, but with the time crunch all I did was open a bag, pour it in a bowl and add dressing. It’s not exactly fine dining.”

  “That’s more skill than most.”

  “Now you’re frowning.” The smile on Spence’s face suggested that he found her discomfort amusing.

  Good one of them found the situation funny. “I’m not hungry.”

  “We’re not talking unless you eat.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Sue’s right. You’re too thin.” He popped the top off a bottle of red wine.

  Now, there was a phrase she’d never heard in connection with her own body until today. Now she had heard it twice. “I’m about ten pounds overweight.”

  “Says who?”

  Charlie. Her doctor. Every designer who mocked her by making slim-fit and one-size-fits-all clothing.

  “Me.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  She snorted.

  “What?” He slid a glass in her direction.

  “How many bigger women have you dated?”

  “How did you losing weight become an indictment of me?” he asked.

  The one thing she could not tolerate was how people said weight did not matter, then lived their lives as if it did. “Exactly zero, I bet. No woman over a size four, would be my guess.”

  “I don’t know a thing about women’s sizes except that you’re not a bigger woman.”

  “Well, I’m not small.”

  He put down his glass. “How the hell did we get on this subject?”

  “You and your pizza.”

  “You’re anti-pizza?”

  “It’s fattening.”

  “Everything is if you eat a pile of it.”

  Now he sounded like a weight-loss mantra from one of her old classes. “I’m here about your plan to lift the video from Charlie’s house.”

  He came out of the kitchen area and joined her at the breakfast bar. “Did Charlie say something about you being too big?”

  “This isn’t—”

  Spence slapped his palm against the bar and leaned in close. “So, that’s a yes.”

  “Charlie wasn’t wrong.” He just didn’t have to mention her negatives every five seconds.

  “The man treated you like shit.”

  “He was a little insensitive.” And how did she end up defending Charlie? This happened every single time someone made a comment. She jumped in and rushed to explain Charlie’s actions as if that was her job or goal in life.

  Defending the indefensible and the hurtful. That summed up the last month of her relationship with Charlie.

  “I know all about it, Natalie.”

  “What?”

  “I overheard.”

  No, no, no. Dread filled her stomach. “What?”

  “The things he said to you.”

  This could not be happening. “Charlie didn’t say anything bad.”

  “He just never bothered to say anything positive or supportive or flattering.”

  The memories rushed back over her. Charlie had told her to “keep up the good work” when she started to lose weight. Then he found a chart and pointed out what her weight should be and that she needed to work harder. When she tried to make him understand how hurtful his words were, he laughed off her concerns.

  Spence leaned down on his elbow. “He let you believe you were lucky to have him. Convinced you how you did not deserve better treatment.”

  “How did you hear that?”

  Spence’s gaze left hers. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It certainly does.”

  Spence stayed quiet as if some battle was playing out in his mind. Finally, he blew out a breath. “Look, Charlie didn’t just say those things to you, Nat. He made small comments, said shit around the office all the time. Sue and I heard all about how you were lucky he wasn’t the kind of guy who cared about weight. When, of course, he was.”

  A flash of dizziness threatened Natalie. She wanted to be strong, act like the hateful words did not matter, but she was too busy trying not to throw up, to guard her reactions.

  Spence brushed his knuckle under her chin in a gentle touch. His dark eyes glistened. Christmas music played in the background. Two more seconds and she’d make an ass of herself and throw her body into his arms while she mourned the death of her self-esteem.

  “We should work on our plan,” she said as she broke away from his touch and the strange spell his words wove around her.

  Detaching emotionally was not enough. She had to move. Put up a barrier of ten feet between them, so she grabbed her glass and walked over to the tree. The white lights glowed, making the gold balls shine and twinkle.

  “My sister,” Spence said from behind her.

  “What?” Nat turned around in time to watch Spence breach her ten-feet rule. He had gotten to within three.

  “My sister and her kids came over and helped with the tree.”

  “You have a sister?”

  “Two.” His mouth kicked up in a smile. “And parents.”

  “Oh.” Of course that made sense on some level.

  “You think I fell to Earth in a spaceship?”

  “Kind of.” The explanation would answer some of her questions about him.

  “I arrived the usual way. If you don’t believe me, ask my mom. She has some long, dramatic story about being in labor for twenty hours.”

  From his smile Nat knew the story was one of those passed down at family gatherings and every birthday party since he was born. She envied him. As the only child of a working mom, Natalie’s memories of family times were few. Her mom did the best she could, when she was around, which was never.

  Which began Nat’s lifelong love of food. She understood the origins of her emotional eating. Eating to fight off loneliness and insecurity. That did not mean she had conquered the problem.

  “You never talk about family,” she said.

  “Do we ever talk about personal things? Up until now, I mean.”

  She shrugged. “I guess not.”

  And why did that feel like a loss? With Charlie, talk turned to work and football. A relaxing evening at home by the fire was not his thing. He liked beer and parties and eating and all the things Nat tried to make low priorities in her life.

  “I never think of you as a family man,” she said.

  “Too busy thinking of me as a parasite, huh?”

  “I’m sorry about that.” She dragged her finger along the rim of her glass.

  “Sorry, or sorry I keep bringing it up?”

  “Yeah, mostly that second one.” She laughed then. She had not laughed in quite some time, so it felt good. “But, I do apologize for insulting you.”

  “All’s forgiven.” He held out his hand as if to shake on it.

  The innocent gesture should not have fazed her. A simple agreement between business professionals and then they could move on. Happened every day in the courthouse. So why did the idea of touching him make her stomach
jump around and her muscles feel heavy?

  “Maybe all’s not forgiven, then?” He continued to hold out his hand.

  “Of course it is.” Against every nerve in her body screaming for her to run, she slipped her palm against his.

  One minute he stood there smiling with her hand folded in his, the next the corners of his mouth fell into a flat line.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, but she knew.

  The lights, the music, the warmth of the fire. Something strange zinged around the room. Something dangerous…and dumb.

  She swallowed. “We should—”

  He used his hold on her hand to pull her close. All that passed between them was a touch of their fingers. All that separated them was a few inches of heated air.

  “I’m about to do something crazy,” he said in a deep, husky voice that sounded more excited than nuts.

  “What?” But she knew. All women instinctively knew when this moment arrived.

  He tucked her hand against his stomach and held it there with his. “This.”

  His head ducked and his lips met hers. The kiss lasted about a second. A warm mouth and the punch of his after-shave mixed, then he lifted his head.

  “I don’t think—”

  When his mouth dipped again, he caught her in mid-sentence. This time the kiss was not short or sweet. His lips were soft and smooth. The kiss skipped over light to burn deep. It caressed and inflamed, setting off a tiny explosion behind her eyes.

  She fought to keep her eyes open. To watch him and stay detached. That was the theory. The reality included a whimper that turned to a groan.

  So much for staying tough and uninterested.

  Just when she gave in and pressed her open hand against his sweater and grabbed a fistful of material, he broke off the kiss. From his wide-eyed expression, she knew he was as surprised as she was.

  She felt something else. Doubt and anger at herself and him. The guy barely acknowledged her except to disagree with her in the courtroom, and now he had his mouth all over her. Amazing what losing a few pounds did for a woman.

  And how sexually interesting she became the minute she broke up with Charlie, the guy with whom Spence just so happened to be engaged in battle. Having anything to do with Charlie was bad enough. Being a pawn in his testosterone battle with Spence did not interest her at all.

  “How much did you drink at the courthouse holiday party?” she asked in a half-hearted attempt to make a joke.

  “Sorry.”

  Not the response she expected. “For the kiss?”

  “For not having you put down the wine first.”

  “Why?”

  “You spilled it all over the tree.”

  6

  S pence watched the red liquid drip off the branches and land in dots on his shiny hardwood floor. The sight scared Nat enough that she dropped her glass. The shattering crash followed by flying glass made them both jump.

  “Oh, my God!” She fell to her knees, crunching pieces beneath her.

  “Don’t do that.”

  “I’m so sorry.” She started picking up the tiny shards of glass.

  “It was an accident.” He lifted her up by the elbow to keep the injuries to a minimum. He could clean up red wine. He did not want to clean up blood.

  “If you have a mop, I can get that up.”

  She acted as if no one ever broke a glass in his house before. His nephews broke something on every visit. No big deal. “You can sit down.”

  “Spence—”

  “Sit.” He took her by the shoulders and plopped her on the couch. “Do not move until I make sure the glass is gone.”

  “I can help.”

  “No.”

  He jogged into the kitchen and picked up some towels and a small vacuum. By the time he got back to the tree, she was back on her knees separating pieces of broken glass from the tree branches.

  “You don’t listen all that well, do you?”

  “And you don’t accept help, so we’re even.”

  He resigned to having assistance. She mopped. He vacuumed. They had the mess cleaned up in a few minutes.

  He started to stand up until he noticed she’d remained on the floor, staring up at the tree.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Why did you kiss me?”

  Because the need swamped him. Because he wanted to taste her. Because for that one second he did not want to do what was right or what was expected.

  But none of that excused his actions. She just recently broke up with Charlie. She was trying to find her feet again after a bad relationship. And, she needed his help. In the history of bad-guy moves, the kiss ranked right up there.

  “I’m sorry.” he said.

  She finally looked at him. Light from the tree bounced off her big green eyes, making them sparkle. Her clear skin took on a pink hue in the firelight. He’d always described her as cute. In that moment, he saw her as beautiful.

  “You didn’t answer my question, Spence.”

  He’d lost track of what he was supposed to answer. “I thought you were being rhetorical.”

  “I asked why.”

  And from the stern look on her face he figured she was determined to get a real response. So, he gave her one. “I wanted to.”

  “You never have before.”

  “You were taken before.”

  She frowned and looked away. “Sounds like an excuse to me.”

  It was. A rotten one, too.

  “Let me ask you something else.”

  He was tempted to say no. “Shoot.”

  “Why did you stop?”

  She had him stumped there. He could blame the wine, the bad work party from earlier, or being hungry. But none of those captured the truth. He’d stopped because he thought he should.

  “I wasn’t thinking,” he said because the statement included a kernel of truth.

  “Since when did kissing and thinking become linked?”

  “Okay. If you must know, I shouldn’t have kissed you. When I remembered that fact, I stopped.”

  “If I didn’t know better, counselor, I’d say you were trying to protect me.” Amusement filtered beneath her words.

  “That’s not like me.”

  She tipped her head to the side and shot him the sweetest smile he had ever seen. “I used to think so.”

  “A lot of people actually like me, you know.”

  “Women.”

  “Women being people, they are included in that group, yes.” He went from crouching to sitting on the floor next to her. “Some even think I’m a decent guy.”

  “Just a bit cool when it comes to your clients’ personal lives.”

  This was not the first time she’d issued that complaint about him. She’d whined about him being detached and aloof. “It’s my job to represent them, not love them. You can get too close.”

  “How close is too close?”

  “Depends.”

  “On what?” She scooted over until her shoulder touched his.

  The temperature in the room skyrocketed and took his internal temperature along with it. Simple words, but he knew she was asking something quite complex. “I’m not sure yet.”

  He leaned back against the sofa and shifted her body until it rested against his. Her shoulder touching his chest. Her hair brushing across his cheek. He could smell her, feel her. Hell, if he licked his lips, he could taste her.

  The whole situation was nuts. Just a few days ago she was yelling at him for not caring enough about his clients, and then came the tape and now this.

  “Did you think of a plan yet?”

  And with that, she broke the mood.

  He laughed, full and deep until he could not laugh anymore. Laughed until he coughed. “Unbelievable.”

  She sat up and reached around to tap on his back. “You okay there, sport?”

  “You have a one-track mind.”

  “I have a problem that needs to be solved. You said you’d help.”

  “A
nd I will.”

  “When?”

  “How do you know I’m not working on a plan as we sit here?”

  She looked up at him with a mixture of hope and surprise. “Are you?”

  “No.” Not even close.

  She shoved against his shoulder. “Spence, I—”

  “Need this done yesterday. Yeah, I know.”

  “No, not that.”

  “What?”

  “The kiss.”

  She seemed determined to dissect and analyze what was, to him, a natural move. “It wasn’t a big deal, Nat.”

  Her face fell. “Oh.”

  When he saw her reaction, he knew he had to fix the hasty comment. “That came out wrong.” Really dead-ass wrong.

  “No, I understand.” She moved away from him. A subtle shift but one that separated them. “I do.”

  “You clearly don’t.”

  “It was a moment.”

  “That’s true.”

  “Nothing big.” She waved her hand in the air.

  He saw the nervous gesture for what it was—a poor attempt to hide her discomfort. He’d done this to her. She was so tough in so many ways that he forgot to weigh his words when it came to personal matters.

  “And you didn’t mean for it to happen,” she said as she slid her butt across the floor and a few more inches away from him. If she kept this up she’d be sitting outside.

  “Oh, I meant it.”

  She stilled. No scooting or running or pretending to fidget as she shimmied away from him.

  He took advantage of her temporary stupor and the accompanying quiet to make another move. He slipped his finger through her belt loop and pulled her back against him again.

  “Spence!”

  “It was not a pity kiss or a strange case of curiosity.” His mouth waited right above hers. “Understand?”

  “What was it, then?”

  “Need. Desire. Your normal sexual attraction stuff.”

  “But you—”

  “Never made a move on you before. Yeah, I know. I’m a dumb-ass.” The woman refused to recognize her positive qualities or give him any credit for noticing them. Breaking through the doubt would be a challenge.

  “I won’t argue with that, but I was going to say that you don’t even like me.”

  “Let me show you something.”

  He did not wait for her agreement. He swooped in. With his lips over hers, he treated them both to a deep, inviting kiss. He lingered over her mouth, tasting every plump inch. Coaxing until she kissed him back with equal enthusiasm.