She didn’t know how to do that.
Matt was an important part of her life. Letting him close would ruin everything they’d built over the years. Part of her badly wanted to do it, anyway. Part of her wanted to find out where this dizzying excitement ended. One kiss should do it. One kiss would be enough to kill it all.
Beads of sweat clung to her forehead. She felt as if she was caught in a riptide, pulling her far out to sea, away from the safety of the shore.
What had she learned in the swimming lessons she’d had when she’d been growing up on Puffin Island? She’d learned that the best way to deal with a riptide was not to try and swim against it. You swam with the tide then gradually peeled off and swam back to the safety of the shore.
“You’re a really sexy guy, Matt. A million women would be interested in you. You don’t need me.”
“Have dinner with me tonight.”
Was he even listening to her? “Thanks, but no. Having dinner would complicate everything.”
“We have dinner together almost every Friday.”
“Today is Monday.” If she grabbed him now and kissed him, it would all be over.
She lifted her hand and then let it drop again. She couldn’t do it.
His brows rose. “The night of the week makes a difference?”
“No. The fact that we’d be on our own makes a difference. It would make it more like a date.”
“It wouldn’t be like a date,” he said slowly, “it would be a date. That’s what this is. A date. I’m asking you to have dinner with me. Just the two of us.”
“And I’m saying no.”
“So let me get this straight. You don’t mind having dinner with me when it’s not a date, but when it’s a date, you’re not interested.”
“That’s right.”
“Do you know how crazy that sounds?”
“About as crazy as thinking we could have an intimate relationship and stay friends.”
“Frankie, we’ve known each other for more than twenty years.” He was patient. “Nothing is going to stop us being friends.”
“I will not go on a date with you, Matt.”
“Why not?”
“We could start with the fact that when it ends I could lose my home.”
“When the date ends?”
“When the relationship ends. Because we both know that’s what we’re talking about here. When men talk about dinner, what they really mean is sex. We’ll have dinner and then you’ll want to end up in bed and that’s where it will all fall apart.”
He looked dazed, as if he’d been hit around the head with a heavy object. “Frankie—”
“Let’s just forget we ever had this conversation.”
“So you won’t have dinner with me because you think dinner might lead to sex, which would lead to a relationship, which would end.” He said it slowly, as if he was trying to make sense of it.
“That’s right.” Her stress levels were in the red so she was relieved that finally he seemed to understand. “Now can we—”
“Not every relationship ends, Frankie, and even if it did I can one hundred percent guarantee that your home and your security would never be affected by anything that happened between the two of us.” He jammed his fingers into his hair. “I sound like a mortgage broker.”
“You’d have sex with me, you’d give me a D minus with nothing for effort, then it would be awkward and I’d have to move.” The words fell out of her mouth without her permission and she froze in mortified horror.