Page 12 of Lucas & Melissa Falling in Love
“You drive for Uber. Sue me for making assumptions.” I was back to my unapologetic snobby self, but it didn’t feel right. This time my laugh was more genuine because I was laughing at myself.
And his smile was like a laser aimed at the V between my thighs if the tingle I felt when his dimple showed up was any clue.
“The many faces of Eve. Tonight, I have a feeling I’m going to see two different sides to you.”
“Sure. Who’s Eve?”
He laughed. I think he thought I was joking, but I didn’t get his reference because it was no doubt some artsy film-school thing that I previously had no interest in. Until now. I actually wanted to know who she was.
“Seriously. Who is she?”
We stopped short of the bar where, thank God, everyone was engrossed in their drinks or themselves or their conversations. I slipped a look around the room to see Margo occupied at the moment with George and his older—much older—sister. They were laughing and I was glad because sometimes it was touch and go between Margo and her in-laws.
“Of course you don’t know—why would you? I only knowThe Two Faces of Evebecause I’m a film buff.”
“A requirement to get into NYU I’m sure,” I said.
“Only the grad school.” He smiled and when a waiter approached he took a glass of champagne from the offered tray. I’d guessed correctly. My confidence shot up like a thermometer dipped into the recesses of hell. Or maybe that was my body temp reacting to the naughty vibes I couldn’t escape from while in his presence.
“Is this Baccarat crystal?” He held the glass up to the light as if he could tell by studying it. As if he was an artist looking at a fine sculpture.
I laughed. “Why? You thinking of stealing it?”
“Only if you brought a large bag.” His dimples etched good humor into his expression permanently now.
I felt my own smile planted with no signs of dwindling and wondered if I’d get cramps in my cheeks before the night was out. This wasn’t like me. I was usually coy or beguiling or mysterious or bored when I was at a party with a man.
“That would imply we would be leaving together tonight.”
“You never know.” He winked and his eyes got that telltale glassy edge that a guy got when he was thinking of sex.
Damn if that thought didn’t strike a vibrating chord right between my legs so now I was definitely thinking of nothing but sex. But there was no way I could go home with this guy. Aside from the fact that he was a stranger and I wasn’t going anywhere with him—never mind the fact that he was an Uber driver and I’d earlier trusted him to drive me here. This was different. I was contemplating going home with him—to his home, now that I had no home.
That thought struck an entirely different chord and in a matter of two blinks I went from sexy thoughts to the virtual equivalent of a bucket of ice over my head.
I took a sip of my too-strong-for-my-own-good drink and he sipped his champagne.
“Tell me,” he said, snaking his arm around me to bring me close enough for whispering.
“Tell you what?” I knew what. He sensed or saw the trouble. Damn man was too good at reading me. Or I was no good tonight at hiding my feelings. I was not myself at all.
Remaining silent, not bothering to give my question credit, he let a kind questioning look slip over the happy-go-lucky dimpled expression.
“It’s just that . . . I was thinking about the fact that I don’t have a home to take you home to.”
He squeezed me against him then and brushed his lips along my neck to my earlobe where he whispered, sending all kinds of shivering goosebumps running through me.
“It’s okay, Melissa. You’ll be fine. I have you—”
I pulled back as self-preservation and my normal rational paranoia reared up.
“What do you meanyou have me?” I only half whispered and then looked around to make sure no one was listening. The Christmas songs in the background along with the laughter, voices, and clinking of glassware absorbed my words without anyone noticing.
With an unperturbed smile, he said, “I meant I have your back. The way someone who cares does.” He looked away from my eyes then and glanced around the room. I watched him. He sighed.
“The way half the people in this room do.” Then he looked back into my eyes, intense and serious. “You have a lot of friends. Times like these are what friends are for.”
The words soothed me even though I didn’t want to be soothed. I wanted to be angry and fighting and clawing and independent and invincible.
