Page 25 of Nefarious
When the dessert and coffee came, Dane realized his time was growing short. He’d need to decide soon whether to position himself as a seductive suitor or a vulnerable romantic. The first might land him in bed tonight—or it might put a permanent end to his attempts. The safe bet would be to hang back and let her desire for him develop. He had no doubt it would if he could overcome whatever mistrust she clearly had for him. If only he knew why she’d rejected him. He could afford to be patient. He’d coax an answer out of her before he finished this. Besides, she was as entertaining as ever, and it might be amusing to drag things out a bit.
And so he said, “Thank you for following through on your wager.”
She ran her tongue across her lips, tasting the last of the chocolate before she blotted the rest with a napkin. “I don’t know how you managed to do it, but I’m impressed you had the fortitude to give up cigarettes cold turkey like that.”
“I should thank you for that as well. I’ve been trying for a while. I guess I lacked sufficient motivation.”
“You weren’t just pretending to smoke to trick me to go out with you?”
“That would have been a long con, don’t you think?”
“You always were clever and determined.”
Noelle’s right hand rested on the table beside her coffee cup. Dane reached across and lifted it in his, and for a moment, she looked into his eyes. Unsure what she sought there, Dane instinctively went for the smolder. He’d successfully ended many dates with his intense gaze. Noelle’s expression hardened, and he thought he saw desire there. He ran his thumb across her skin, but she withdrew her hand and laid it in her lap.
“I should be getting home. I need to research the projections for the fiscal year.”
He didn’t argue with her. He’d shown her he was interested, and now he had to let that seed grow. Instead, he stood and pulled her chair out for her.
They were quiet on the way back to her house, and Dane got out to walk her to her door, mentally coaching himself to leave her there without so much as a handshake. She fished her keys from her purse as soon as she exited the car and kept up a brisk pace. When she slid the key into the lock, she turned and said, “Thank you for dinner, Dane.”
This is where he meant to tell her she was welcome and that he’d see her at work on Monday, but the skin on her face glowed soft under the porch light, and he couldn’t resist the urge to reach up and drag his thumb across her cheek. Her eyes opened in surprise, but she didn’t back away immediately. Dane took advantage of her momentary shock and leaned in to press his lips against hers. It was like kissing a marble statue. But then she softened, and her lips responded to his. Her body relaxed. The low stirring of desire had been intensifying, and he gave it free rein. He slid his fingers around the back of her neck and tightened his grip, parting her lips with his tongue.
She jerked her head back. “Dane.” She swallowed. “I’m sorry. I should have made it more clear. This wasn’t a date.”
He loosened his fingers and let her step out of his embrace, cursing himself for his weakness. “Have a good weekend, Noelle.”
After she let herself in, he adjusted the crotch of his pants and pulled out his phone.
The phone dinged with Dane’s ringtone. He so rarely communicated via technology, Val thought it might be urgent and climbed out of bed to read his text.
What are you doing?
She groaned.Busy.
The phone dinged again. Since she was up, she read his next message.I want to see you.
Are you drunk?
She drummed her fingers, now waiting for his answer.
No. I’m coming over.
She texted quickly,Don’t come over, then waited. When he didn’t respond, she sighed. “Ugh. I shouldn’t have answered him.”
She lay back down, distracted by the promise of Dane’s imminent arrival. When the doorbell rang fifteen minutes later, she cursed. “I told him not to come over.” She sat up and threw her legs out of bed. “I’ll just send him away.” She pulled on a silky dressing gown, cinched at the waist with a flimsy belt.
When she opened the door, Dane stood, leaning against the door frame, looking impossibly incorrigible—the way she loved him best. He pushed into her house uninvited. She moved ahead of him and led him back into a sitting room and closed the double French doors behind her. When she turned around, he was already pouring himself a tumbler of brandy.
“So you’re not drunk yet, but well on your way?”
“It’s my first drink, tonight.” He took a sip. “My first real drink.”
“Why are you here?”
He crossed to her and ran a finger along the front of her robe. “Is this how you always greet midnight visitors?”
She knocked his hand back. “Did you come bearing gifts?”
