was to be bored.”
“No, I guess not. But you have to admit, as far as relationships go, you play it safe.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning you don’t date often, and when you do, it’s with women who go with the flow and let you call the shots.”
“Are you calling me a control freak?”
She grinned. “Pretty much.”
He smiled back. “You’re not much better in that department.”
“No,” she admitted. “Guess it’s a good thing we’re not together, then.”
She waited, but he didn’t confirm her assessment. “You’re changing the subject. Why are you anxious about the opera tomorrow?”
“God, you’re relentless,” she muttered, grabbing her glass of wine. “Fine. But remember, you asked for it.” She took a deep breath. “So it’s been a while since I’ve dated. Been even longer since I’ve made it past a first date.”
“Okay . . .”
“I’m kind of rusty at the whole, you know, physical part.”
Kennedy flinched. “Yeah, I did not want to know that.”
“I told you!”
“You did.” He picked up his sandwich, then put it down without taking a bite. “Why?”
“Why what?” she asked cautiously, surprised that he wanted to continue the conversation.
“Why are you rusty?”
“Well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this”—she gestured at herself—“does not exactly set the menfolk on fire.”
“Jack seems plenty interested.”
“Did he tell you he was?” She sat up a little straighter.
Kennedy shook his head. “Yeah, we’re not doing that.”
She slumped down again with another real sigh. “I should have known you’d be no help.”
“I’m not entirely sure what you need help with.”
“Just . . . be a pal and reassure me that guys don’t mind if first kisses are awkward. That it’s not a deal breaker.”
Kennedy went completely still. “You and Jack haven’t kissed yet? Haven’t you been on a few dates?”
She threw up her hands. “You’re making it so much worse!”
“Sorry, sorry.” He took a bite of his sandwich and shook his head. “Poor Jack.”
She threw a fry at him, which he batted away before it left a grease stain on his suit. “Quite the temper, Miss Henley.”
“Yeah, I do have one of those,” she said. “I keep it locked up around the office.”
“Really?” He looked pointedly at the fry on the ground.
“I mean, during the workday. Whatever.” She dunked her sandwich into the jus. It was a little cold now but still delicious. “Did you know that this was Sabrina and Matt’s first fake-relationship meal? Roast beef sandwiches?”
“Why would I know that? How do you know that?”
She shrugged. “I know everything.”
They ate in silence for a moment. Then Kennedy wiped his mouth and looked at her. “It won’t be awkward.”
“What won’t?”
He shifted in his chair, looking as uncomfortable as she’d ever seen him. “The first kiss.”
“It might be. It’s been a while.” She refused to blush as she said it. There was no shame in the fact that it had been a long dry spell for her.
“What do you do, bite the guy?”
She laughed in surprise. She liked this joking version of Kennedy. “Yes. Definitely. Biting is my signature move.”
“Look, just don’t . . .” He blew out a breath. “I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with my assistant. About my little brother.”
Trust me, it’s even weirder for me.
And yet she didn’t particularly want to stop. It should be weird, and on some level, it was. But somehow . . . it also wasn’t. Perhaps their six years of silently circling each other had built a better foundation of friendship than either of them realized. “What were you going to say?”
He swirled his wine again. Took a sip. “Don’t overthink it.”
“That’s your advice? Don’t overthink it? From the guy who analyzes everything?”
“I do not.”
She gave him a look.
“I’ll grant that I tend to deliberate my words and actions, but even I know that there are some things better left to impulse and instinct.”
“Like sex.”
The hand absently swirling his wine stilled. “How’d you go from kissing to sex?”
“Well, I don’t know that I will, but I guess I’ll find out tomorrow night, won’t I?” She said it lightly, telling herself she was just trying to make him uncomfortable, the way she often delighted in doing. But even as she said it, she wondered if maybe she didn’t have another motive at work.
Wondered if maybe it was a knee-jerk desire to make him jealous, the way she’d been jealous every day for years knowing he went home with other women without ever seeing her.
That she said it didn’t surprise her. He was right: self-censorship had never been her strong suit. It was