“Twenty-five.” She tried not to say it defensively.
“I’m thirty-six.” He pushed off his stool and picked up both coffee cups as he headed for the sink. “I shouldn’t have been in that club last night.” His shoulders were tense as he explained, “I was angry about something and I thought I could get over it by going to a club and taking someone home for sex.”
It was the first time either of them had used the word.
Sex.
One syllable, three little letters, sizzled between them. And, oh, it made her want him more than ever, even though he was trying to use the word to back away from her, trying to set up reasons why they couldn’t have their night.
Her parents had always said what a stubborn child she’d been, and nothing had changed for her as an adult. If anything, her experiences in the music business, dealing with almost constant rejection and having to bounce back from it, had only made her more stubborn.
“I had my reasons, too,” she told him. Only, those reasons had changed. Last night had been all about getting something everyone already thought she had.
This morning she didn’t care about anyone else, didn’t give a fig for what a bunch of strangers thought about her. Now her reasons were all about wanting Marcus entirely for herself.
“Even if I weren’t too old for you—”
Nicola cut him off. “We’re both adults.”
He looked at her, head to toe, and she knew he was taking in the too-big sweatshirt that went past her knees. Despite the fact that she knew she looked really, really young with no makeup on, she lifted her chin and said, “You thought I looked plenty old enough last night.”
His jaw tightened. “Last night was a mistake. And if you hadn’t fallen asleep it would have been a truly huge mistake.”
Wow. That hurt.
She had to turn away from him on the stool and scoot off so that he wouldn’t see just how bad his words had made her feel. She’d thought she was a pro at letting rejection just bounce right off her. Turned out she had a long way to go, if only a few words from Marcus could make her feel like crumbling inside.
“Nicola.”
She didn’t turn around to face him when he said her name, didn’t stop heading for the couch where she hoped her shoes and purse were. She stripped off the sweatshirt while she walked, wanting nothing more than to just leave, to get the heck out of the house and drown herself in work, the work she’d been drowning in for the past six months.
She was just bending down to pick up her shoes when Marcus beat her to them.
“It’s not your fault. Nothing that did or didn’t happen is your fault.”
She held out her hand and willed it not to shake. “Can I have my shoes, please?”
For a few seconds, she wasn’t sure he was going to give them to her, but then, he finally handed them over.
She made sure their fingertips didn’t touch as she took them from him, then sat down on the edge of the coffee table to slip them on. Somehow she was going to keep it together long enough to sweep out of the house like a woman who couldn’t care less if one man found her attractive or not. There were plenty of others who wanted her. One day, when she was feeling stupid and reckless again, she would find one of them.
“You’re beautiful, Nicola.”
She’d been certain nothing he could have said would have stopped her from stomping out of there.
Nothing but that.
“When you were sleeping last night, I couldn’t stop thinking how beautiful you are. I can hardly believe you came home with me last night.” He ran his hand over his face. “I shouldn’t be telling you that, but it’s so damn true, I can’t let you think otherwise. Last night I told myself I could sleep with a stranger and not worry about your feelings.” His eyes caught hers and held them fast. “I don’t know a lot about you, but you don’t feel like a stranger anymore, Nicola.”
A flicker of hope lit in her chest. “Neither do you,” she said softly.
This time, when she instinctively reached out for his hand, she let herself make it all the way there. She slipped her fingers through his and that contentment she’d felt when she’d woken up on his lap, with her hands in his, filled her again.
“You’re right, we don’t know each other very well yet, but I already know you make me feel good. And I also know you were the perfect gentleman last night.” She pulled herself up to stand in front of him, her br**sts close enough to his chest to almost touch. “If we gave the night one more try, then maybe this time we could see what it’s like when you’re not the perfect gentleman anymore?”
Desire flared even hotter in his eyes than it had before and she could feel the evidence of it against her lower body when she shifted even closer to him.
“I just got out of a relationship. I’m not looking for another one.”