“But did you want a little bit of action from him?”
No use in pretending. “Since I was fourteen.”
“Then why didn’t you make a move, babe? I raised you better than this!”
It was a totally valid question. Women had to make moves on men these days, or everyone on planet earth would be single. Her attraction to Julian Vos had always been off the charts, and yesterday . . . well, she’d sensed interest. Right? The way he sort of regulated his breathing in her presence wasn’t a figment of her imagination. More than once she’d definitely noticed his attention dip to lower parts of her anatomy. Mainly, her mouth. Like maybe he was thinking of kissing her. But nothing. And she had an inkling as to why.
“We are extremely different people. I think I might even unnerve him a little?”
“Hallie.” Lavinia pushed aside her plate and leaned forward. “A history professor doesn’t sound like a man who operates carelessly or without a lot of thought.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning the attraction can’t be one-sided or he wouldn’t have created an excuse for you to return to the house.”
She gestured with her fork. “There was a gopher—”
Lavinia interrupted her with a groan. “Men don’t ask for assistance without being under extreme duress. Unless they are setting aside that pride in the name of a woman.”
Hallie considered that. She thought of the way Julian had called her to handle the gopher issue when he absolutely could have created the mixture himself. The way he watched her with an almost reluctant fascination. How he’d followed her from the house and down the stairs, like he was barely aware his feet were moving. It all added up to attraction, didn’t it?
Maybe she should have made a move?
Lavinia regarded Hallie, drumming her nails on the tablecloth. “You’re still carrying that torch. Either extinguish it or fan the flame.”
“Fan it? To what end?”
“To your end, if you’re feeling adventurous.”
“Someone needs to cut you off.” Hallie realized she was squinting in order to keep the image of her friend from doubling. Probably because she’d been punctuating the end of every sentence with a gulp of wine. “Imagine me dating a history professor. Ridiculous.”
Lavinia pushed out her bottom lip. “You’ve still got a mad crush, don’t you, babe?”
“Yes.” Remembering those intensely curious bourbon eyes and how they sparked with rare humor during the prank call, Hallie’s chest squeezed. “It’s a hard fascination to explain, but . . . ugh, Lavinia, I wish you could have seen him in high school. He once tutored one of our classmates—Carter Doherty—who’d been struggling to pass physics. I suspect some difficulties were happening at home, but whatever the case, he’d decided to drop out. But Julian wouldn’t let him. Tutored him all the way from a failing grade to a B. And never took any credit. The only reason I knew about it is my grandmother gardened for Carter’s family and witnessed Julian showing up on their doorstep every Tuesday.” She’d swooned right there on the kitchen floor when Rebecca told her, refusing to budge until dinnertime. “Spending time with him last night made the crush worse, even while it forced me to see we’re completely different.”
“You’re horny and pragmatic now.”
“Yes. Does that officially make me a grown-up?”
“Afraid so. That’s what the wine is for.”
Hallie slumped. Took a deep breath. “All right. Well, he’s only here to write the book, and he’ll be leaving again. I’ll just brazen my way through any future encounters. And when he’s gone, I’ll force myself to stop comparing everyone to him—”
“You mean comparing Owen, yeah?” Lavinia popped a shrimp into her mouth. “Give him the green light and you’ll be a fall bride, if that’s what you want. The man is lovestruck for you.”
Guilt flip-flopped in Hallie’s belly. “That’s why I owe it to him—or any other man who I might see in the future—to not be hung up on a ridiculous crush. It’s gone on way too long.”
Lavinia pursed her lips, twirled her pasta. “Then again . . .”
“Oh no. Don’t give me ‘then again.’”
“Then again, you owe it to yourself to really make sure there is nothing there. Between you and Mr. Vos. You’re in heat over a prank call. Imagine if you actually kissed the son of a bitch.”
Hallie sighed. “Believe me, I’ve thought about it.”
Lavinia fell back into her chair and settled her wineglass on her pasta-filled belly. “You should write him secret admirer letters or something. Get all this angst off your chest before you end up walking down the aisle toward Owen with a bridal bouquet of regrets.”
Hallie laughed, trying not to let it show how thickly her heart was beating over those three little words. Secret admirer letters. The romantic inside of her sat up, stars twinkling in her eyes. God, what a unique chance to express the feelings she’d been carrying around half her life without the risk of embarrassment. “Where would I leave the letters?”