“Hey, I’m not that old. It’s just an expression.”
He studied her with a neutral face, but his eyes were so intense she couldn’t look away, couldn’t say anymore. Didn’t dare move, though she felt drawn by him, by all those elemental things that have been drawing boys and girls together for all of time. He was within touching distance, if she was daring, if she hadn’t just turned into a shy chicken-shit choirgirl—the opposite of her usual self when faced with a hot desirable man.
Except she had given up on men for a while and so maybe she’d forgotten how to flirt. Or maybe he was that much different. Oh, he was definitely a universe apart from the usual men she met. They all playacted at being heroic. And this one, this average Joe, was no act. He was all real one-hundred-percent hunky hero, through and through.
And that was what scared her.
“I have wine. Pinot noir?” His eyes didn’t leave hers.
The lump of fear—fear of doing or saying the wrong thing to blow it with this guy, as if he were a skittish lamb and she were out for the slaughter—was still caught in her throat so she nodded her answer.
He said nothing. He wasn’t a chatty guy. Turning, he went to his kitchen in the open space of his chic apartment. The bones were classic, like him, and the furnishings were traditional, like him, and the décor spare, like him. So while he uncorked the wine she studied the details. It was what she did, paid attention to the little things that made a picture complete, told the story about who a character was in the little tiny spaces between the big strokes.
The color theme of his apartment was mostly earth tones, beiges and taupes, with a pop of tangerine. And then she spied an object on the windowsill in the living room. It was in hues of blue and purple. When she moved closer she realized it was a sculpture of the solar system. Maybe Joe had been air force. Maybe he’d been interested in the space program. Maybe he had wanted to be an astronaut.
She spun around when she felt him within breathing distance. He’d come up behind her without a whisper of sound. But she’d smelled him, that all-male essence of him that made every one of her cells stand at attention and snapped her girlie parts to hyper alertness.
He held a glass out to her and he was close. Closer than he had a need to be. Still watching her with those intense blue eyes, only now his face wasn’t a blank.
His face looked interested. When he reached his arm out around her, she nearly fainted with the anticipation of his touch. But his hand went past her to pick up the solar-system sculpture from the windowsill. He backed away from her, holding it between them.
“You found my love,” he said.
It was a strange thing to say, except it wasn’t because she’d just been imagining exactly that about him, hadn’t she?
Without planning to, she smiled, feeling an overwhelming sense of empathy for his dashed dreams and a need to uncover the story, to soothe him and make him forget he had ever cared about space, his ambitions. To make him forget he had ever cared about anything except making love with her.
Damn. She had better get a grip on herself and stick to getting a smile out of him. That was more his speed, more attainable. And even that seemed like it would take an act of Congress.
“Tell me.” Her mouth didn’t seem to be hooked up to the rest of her brain and she feared it would get her in trouble. With her heart beating hard, she took a sip of the wine. Alargesip while she waited for his answer, his response. Any response.
He paused a beat, then two. Then the pause slipped into that awkward interminable stage where he looked at her with his unreadable intense eyes.
He turned. She reached out a hand, took his arm and turned him back around. She clearly had a death wish. Or maybe that wine was a lot stronger than she was used to.
“You wanted to be an astronaut.” She said the words that he didn’t.
“Drink your wine. I’m going to bed.” He started to walk away, then faced her. “Damn,” he muttered the word, not quite to her. “I’ll be sleeping on the couch. I’ll get my things out of the bedroom and then it’s all yours.”
“Joe, I’m sorry if I was prying.” Though not sorry at all, she was desperate to make amends.
“No. I opened the box.” He held up the sculpture still in his hands as if it were an offensive object and not the object of his dreams. “Mylove.” The look of self-deprecation seemed so out of character for him—for this version of him, the one she’d seen, that she’d been shown.
“Sit with me while I drink my wine and unwind. Tell me your story.” She went to the couch and sat and patted the tasteful cushion beside her. Then she added, “How about if I tell you the story ofmydashed dream. It won’t take long.” Every emotion that played through her came out in her wry statement, matching his self-deprecation and raising it a hundredfold. All her self-disgust, her longing, regret, wistfulness, sorrow, and even the determination to move on ran through her and she wasn’t going to bother hiding a thing. It wasn’t her way.
The opposite of Joe Temple, her new nemesis, her new intrigue. If she were in a completely honest mood,her new heartthrob. He literally made her friggin’ heartthrob. And some other lady parts were throbbing now too as she watched him come to the couch and sit.
His expression hadn’t changed, no sudden spark of interest, no bedroom eyes, no full-out smile meant to melt her heart. But he came to her and was so close that if she moved her leg a little, their thighs would touch. And she allowed herself to be relieved at the same time as she wondered why the hell it was so important for her to conquer this young—almost too young for her—man. Aside from the obvious physical attraction. Aside from the fact that he’d saved her life.
Okay, maybe she knew why he’d become so important, but still. She wasn’t exactly the. young impressionable girl that she was acting like. Sure, he was sharp, confident without a big ego, solid as a mountain under pressure, the kind of guy you could count on. And a hunk to rival movie-star gorgeous with a toughness that was no act. Her gut fluttered as she ticked off her list. There really was no mystery about her teenage idol-type crush, except that it was more than a crush because she’d long since grown up.
“What do you want to know?”
Everything.“You were in the service?” She figured she could get him started with the suggestion of a question, but she should have known better. He nodded. Remained silent.
She took another sip of wine for fortification, then she leaned closer to him and begged him with her eyes to speak.
“Air Force.”