“She’s working tonight.” She moved closer and placed her hand on his forearm. If she was trying to melt him, that was the way to do it. “Please? I promise we’ll go somewhere quiet. The research I did said that slow reemergence was a good choice for a lot of people with anxiety, especially those who developed it later in life. Getting out might do you good. When’s the last time you were out of this house?”
“This afternoon, when I talked to your movers.” He gulped his water.
“The porch doesn’t count.” Her shoulders drooped. “Or is this about me?” Mandy sighed, her tone turning dejected. “It’s me, isn’t it?”
His gut clenched and their conversation from the other night at dinner zoomed back into focus. Was she still upset about that stupid homecoming dance? This had nothing to do with that, nothing at all. This was him. The shooting. He needed her to understand that. Without thinking, he took her arms and pulled her closer, meeting her gaze. The air between them sizzled, and there was no denying it now. He wanted Mandy. Even if he shouldn’t.
Worse still, he liked her.
Liked her softness, liked the tingle up his spine whenever their bodies touched. Liked the idea of pulling her even closer and—
Uh-oh.
Problem was, he wasn’t thinking. Not with the right body parts anyway.
“Please?” she whispered and a little more of his resistance crumbled.
Dinner didn’t have to mean anything, right? It could just be between friends. Strictly platonic. Except the feelings raging through his bloodstream now were decidedly un-platonic.
“Hey? Alex?” She waved her fingers in front of his face. “You still with me?”
He blinked at her pink mouth, the desire to kiss her so strong he actually leaned in and lowered his head before he stopped himself. “Do you want to sleep with me?”
“What?” Her expression shifted from earnest to stunned.
Abort! Abort! He hadn’t mean to say that out loud. Crap. And now she was looking at him like he’d grown a second head. Marvelous. Grumbling, he let her go and turned away, angry at himself and embarrassed, sweating and chilled at the same time over his own stupidity. Once upon a time, he’d been a real ladies’ man. These days he needed help from Rand McNally to locate his lost game where women were concerned. “Forget I said that, okay?”
Agonizing seconds ticked by, his heart in his throat.
Finally, she said, “What if I don’t want to?”
He took that in for a minute as they stared at each other across the expanse of the kitchen. The spark of heat in her blue eyes suggested she might want him, too, but he needed to lay it all on the table to be sure she knew exactly what he was offering. “I don’t do long-term. It would just be sex. Is that what you want?”
“Maybe.” Her small smile did crazy things to his insides. The moment stretched until she said, “But all I’m asking you for tonight is dinner. C’mon. You know you want to.”
He actually did, but did he dare? She’d said she’d keep it quiet, so maybe he could do it. And if not, well he’d warned her. Fine. He plunked his empty glass into the metal sink. “One dinner.”
“Yes!” Her glowing smile returned, and she clapped her hands. “You won’t regret it.”
Alex frowned down at the tile floor, hoping she was right.
Chapter Six
At seven forty five that night, Mandy rushed around her upstairs bedroom, opened moving boxes scattered everywhere, and a mound of discarded clothes piled high on her mattress. She’d tried on every outfit she could find at least twice and ended up with a simple black dress. Blindsided didn’t begin to cover how she felt, first by the fall from the scaffolding—where she’d ended up on top of Alex—and second, by his question later. Do you want to sleep with me?
She was for putting it all out there, and it wasn’t like she hadn’t fallen in the smutty pool where he was concerned before, but for some reason the thought of sleeping with Alex now conjured a weird brew of emotions—yearning, loneliness, fear, lust—which left her under a humongous cloud of confusion.
Thing was, when she’d initially invited him to dinner, it was because she’d hoped to get to know him better, as he was now, not as she’d remembered him from thirteen years ago. And yeah, maybe get him to finally open up about what had happened with his injury. Plus, sure, he was still a hottie. Maybe even more so, with that whole growly, grumpy, wounded alpha thing going for him. But she wanted to spend time with him just talking, not necessarily between the sheets. Which made her a bit jumpy, too, considering she’d walked in here a week prior thinking she wanted out as fast and clean as possible. No entanglements.
Now, though, while her dreams of California were still important, she felt less panic about her time here in Heavenly Falls. Part of that was keeping busy, but part of that was Alex.
Being around him again made her slow down, reminded her that her past hadn’t been all quick moves and enduring losses. There’d been happy times, too. Like her time living with the Noonans. Like the times it had been just her and her mother, between marriages.
Her chest squeezed with memories and sadness.
Think positive. Better things are just around the corner.
Mandy stared at her reflection in the mirror. “I’m trying, Mom. I’m trying.”
She pulled out a paisley scarf and wrapped it around her neck to partially cover the plunging neckline of her dress. Considering her skin still tingled from the press of Alex’s hard, muscled body against hers on those tarps, covering her assets would probably be wise. She ran her fingers through her hair, fluffing it, then squinted at her lipstick and grabbed a tissue to wipe off the bright scarlet color. Too much. Mandy replaced it with clear gloss instead, then surveyed herself once more.
Better.
She grabbed a light cardigan on her way out the door along with her six-seasons-ago Kate Spade bag, then headed downstairs to the foyer. Alex emerged from the hallway, and she froze. Form-fitting chinos and a black turtleneck replaced his faded jeans and spackle-covered T-shirt. He looked mouthwateringly gorgeous and inviting and…damn.
“Ready?” He clicked off the lights, leaving only moonlight as they made their way out onto the porch.
Do you want to sleep with me?
At that moment, she definitely wanted to take him to bed, but not for sleep. Not that he was acting any different. In fact, he was being a perfect gentleman, holding the door, guiding her down the steps with a hand at the small of her back. Tiny frissons of heat spread outward through her extremities from his light touch. It felt more intimate than sex itself in some ways, after what he’d asked her earlier.
“You look amazing, by the way,” he said as they reached the front walk.
“Thanks. So do you.” Her voice trembled slightly, as did her knees.
He held her gaze a long moment. “Where are we headed?”
It took Mandy a second to realize he was asking about the restaurant and not this thing between them. She pointed to the right then led the way toward downtown. “I made reservations at a little bistro called Chez Maize. I’ve heard good things about it at the diner.” She glanced over from beneath her lashes to see his limp more pronounced than before. Had he hurt his leg more in the fall? She could’ve kicked herself for not asking. “We can get an Uber, if you want. It’s not far, but…”
“What? No.” He kept pace beside her, the passing streetlights highlighting a few dots of crimson along his cheekbones. “It’s fine. I’m good. The exercise actually helps me sleep.”
Twilight had settled across the neighborhood, and the breeze held a distinct autumn chill. They walked side by side, his arm brushing hers occasionally, the silence broken only by the passing cars until he asked, “So, Chez Maize, huh? Let me guess. They specialize in corn?”
“Yep.” She grinned, stepping closer to Alex to let a man and his dog pass. His muscl
es tensed beneath her hand, and the fact that this outing was a big deal for him wasn’t lost on her. Once they were alone again, she gave his arm a reassuring squeeze. “If you need to take a breather, let me know. No worries at all.”
Alex gave her some side-eye, frowning. “I’m fine. Let’s just get on with it, okay?”
“Okay.” His abrupt tone effectively shut the door on that topic, at least for now.
Mandy sighed and let it go, not wanting to push. They crossed the street and headed down Main. The crowds were thinner on Monday nights, and they reached the bistro in less than ten minutes. A bright yellow and green neon sign flickered above the entrance, and Alex held the door for her again before following her inside. Delicious smells of roasting onions and fresh baked bread had her stomach growling, and the muted color scheme and dim lighting of the decor helped lessen her fears about Alex’s anxiety in the place. A short, pudgy maître d’ with a handlebar mustache and a thick French accent greeted them quietly. “Welcome to Chez Maize. Reservations?”
“Yes, last name Reynolds.”
“Bien sûr.” The man placed a check on his list, then bowed slightly. “Right this way.”
He led them to a secluded table near the rear of the establishment and ran through the evening specials while they took their seats, then left them in privacy.
Alex perused his menu. “What’s good here?”
“From what I was told, grilled salmon is their specialty. Looks like it comes with a side of cornbread and tomato-corn salad.”
The server came to fill their water glasses and took their orders—two salmon dinners.
Once the waiter left, Mandy sipped her water. “Let’s hope the food’s as excellent as the praise.”
“We’ll see. Smells good anyway,” he said, straightening his silverware. “I’m sorry again about earlier.”
Her heart stumbled. Did he mean the fall or the sex thing? Either way, she didn’t want to stress him out even more right now. “It’s fine.”
“I should’ve paid more attention with it being your first time on the scaffolding and all.”
Right. She released her held breath, her tight shoulders relaxing. The fall. He was talking about the fall. Mandy chuckled. “Seriously, don’t worry about it. They teach us how to faint in acting school, so you don’t hurt yourself when you hit the floor. It wasn’t a big deal at all.”
Not in the way he meant, anyway. In other ways, it had rocked her world completely. She did her best to cover the shaking in her hands by placing her linen napkin across her lap, folding it. “How are Dave and Nicole? What are they up to these days?”
“They’re both good, I guess. Nic’s clerking for a federal judge in Chicago now, and Dave’s VP of Noonan Construction. He’s married, got a kid named Connor. He’s two.” A sommelier came and poured them each a glass of Chardonnay. “Do you miss your acting while you’re here in Heavenly Falls? You haven’t had much time to work on it, what with the house and the diner and this new job you applied for.”
She shrugged, glad for something to talk about that had nothing to do with earlier. “Some. But I’ve been hustling nonstop in Chicago for parts since graduating from CU, so this is actually kind of a nice break.” At his curious look, she was quick to add, “Not that I’m not looking forward to getting back to it. I’m thinking of this as refilling my creative well for Hollywood. Once I’m out there, I’ll start auditioning again. I’d love to get a movie role. Several friends of mine from college are already working on the West Coast, so I’m hoping they throw me a bone.”
The cold, crisp fruitiness of the wine helped wash away some of the awkwardness clogging inside her, though she kept babbling anyway, just to fill the void between them. “You should come out and visit me sometime after I’m settled.”
Alex shook his head, scowling in his wineglass. “Like I said, I don’t get out much anymore. Heavenly Falls is one thing. Flying cross-country is another.”
“Give it some time. Maybe after a while you’ll want to expand your horizons again. I’m not sure what happened—” She almost said, “with your injury,” but stopped. Don’t push. He’ll tell you when he’s ready. Mandy inhaled and tried again. “You used to have a place in Chicago, right?”
“Yep. On Erie. Great views of downtown.” He built a tiny pyramid from coffee creamers before knocking them all down. “Gave up my lease when I went into rehab. Seemed silly to keep it, since I was never there. But I really liked that place.”
“I’m sorry.” Without thinking, she squeezed his hand. “Believe me, I know what it’s like to start over again. If you ever want to talk about things, I’m here.”
“Thanks.” He pulled away then looked around, at anything but her. “But I’m tired of talking about the past. Doesn’t do any good anyway. We have to move forward, right?” Alex tossed the creamers back into their dish then straightened each condiment on the table.
Desperate to keep the conversation going, Mandy asked, “What made you go into accounting? I always figured you’d major in architecture.”
“Originally, that was my plan, but they offered me a scholarship in math instead.” Several other couples had been seated near them and Alex glanced in their direction. “Never thought I’d end up working for the IRS until I met Mark at a career fair and found out the criminal investigators train at Quantico.”
“Quantico?” She blinked at him, impressed. “Like the Quantico?”
He nodded and she sat back. Wine on an empty stomach probably hadn’t been a good choice. Alcohol swirled through her system, creating a slight buzz. The waiter brought a basket of fresh rolls and homemade honey butter and she snatched one, hoping it would help absorb the booze. As she ate, though, she kept getting distracted by Alex’s fingers, toying with the stem of his glass. Long and tapered, she couldn’t stop the image of them stroking her body instead of that glass, driving her wild, making her call out his name as…
Oh boy.
“Yep. Job requires a short stint training with the FBI,” he said, drawing her out of her erotic thoughts.
Mandy gave herself a mental shake. “Wow. I had no idea accountants were dangerous.”
“Not all of them are, but our division needed special training.” Alex leaned forward, the sleeves of his sweater riding up as he rested his elbows on the table, revealing muscular forearms lightly dusted with dark hair. Her stomach tightened, this time from a whole different kind of hunger. “We dealt with some less than savory characters in the fraud division, so they prepared us for any eventuality.”
She reached for water instead of wine this time, her head spinning. “Then you know how to fight and shoot and everything?”
“Yep.” Alex exhaled slowly, his posture deflating a bit. “And everything.”
Damn. She shouldn’t have brought that up, but the alcohol had apparently lowered her inhibitions more than she’d thought. Based on his now-gloomy expression, she’d reminded him of exactly the things he wanted to forget. She kicked herself internally for being such an idiot and stared down at the tablecloth, not sure what to say to make things better. Thankfully, their salads arrived, keeping her from putting her foot in her mouth again. Mandy dug in, glad for something to focus on besides the burn of embarrassment on her face. The tomato-corn combo was actually just right—sweet and salty, with just a hint of lemon kick from the dressing. She swallowed a few bites, watching Alex from across the table. “This is yummy.”
He looked up, half his salad gone already. “Yep. Awesome.”
The waiter refilled their water glasses, and Mandy raised hers in a toast. “To getting reacquainted.”
Alex met her gaze, his dark eyes unreadable. “To starting over.”
Once they’d finished their salads and the waiter cleared away their plates, Alex asked, “How many times was your mother married?”
Mandy nearly choked on her wine. She hadn’t been e
xpecting that question, and the reminder of her mother constricted the air from her lungs. She gulped down the last of her alcohol before answering.
“Five.” Then, because she was used to people making jokes, she did it herself to save the heartache. “I think she was going for a world record.”
Alex didn’t laugh, though. “Is that what you meant before? About knowing what it felt like to start over?”
“Yeah.” She feigned interest in the roll she was buttering to keep from looking at him, for fear he’d see all the hurt inside her. “The hardest part, I think, was never having roots. That’s why that year with your family was so great.”
“I’m sorry.” He finished his own wine, watching her over the rim. “What about your biological father? Was he ever involved in your life?”
“No. He took off right after I was born. I used to get birthday cards from him every once in a while when I was a kid, but that stopped when I was about ten. Nothing since.” She wrapped her arms around herself. The wounds were old, they should’ve healed by now, but still the emptiness lingered. “Not everyone has what you do with your family.”
“I haven’t spoken to my father since I entered rehab,” he blurted out then looked away, but not before she saw the flicker of pain in his eyes. “He didn’t understand my anxiety issues. I’ve got enough problems. I don’t need his opinions, too.”
The bleakness in his expression had tears stinging her eyes. It was so similar to what she felt losing her mom—untethered, alone, shaken. It was too late for her and her mother, but Alex’s father was alive and still around. There was a chance for him to clear things up before it was too late. “That can’t be how you wanted things to turn out.”
He scowled down at his left leg, his words sharp. “We don’t always get what we want.”
His answer stole her breath away again. Before she could respond, their entrees arrived.
“May I get either of you anything else right now?” the waiter asked.
The right words to say. What Mandy wouldn’t give for a script right about now.
Worth the Wait Page 8
