About That Night (25 page)

The sun had just begun to set as Kyle approached the city, the impressive Chicago skyline welcoming him home. He was in a celebratory mood, and thought about dropping by Firelight to knock back a few victory cocktails with Dex. Going as far back as grad school, that had always been his default—hanging out at Dex’s bar—whenever he’d been in the mood to kick back and unwind.

Interesting, then, that his car stayed on Lake Shore Drive
and drove past the exit that would have taken him to Firelight.

He had a rough idea where he was going, since Rylann had previously mentioned that she lived in Roscoe Village. At the stoplight at Belmont Avenue, he pulled out his cell phone and scrolled through his contacts. The beauty of text messaging, he realized, was in its simplicity. He didn’t have to try to explain things, nor did he have to attempt to parse through all the banter in an attempt to figure out what
she
might be thinking. Instead, he could keep things short and sweet.

I’D LIKE TO SEE YOU.

He hit send.

To kill time while he waited for her response, he drove in the direction of his sister’s wine shop, figuring he could always drop in and harass Jordan about something.

This time, however, she beat him to the punch.

“So who’s the brunette bombshell?” Jordan asked as soon as he walked into the shop and took a seat at the main bar.

Damn.
He’d forgotten about the stupid Scene and Heard column. Kyle helped himself to a cracker and some Brie cheese sitting on the bar. “I’m going to say…Angelina Jolie. Actually, no—Megan Fox.”

“Megan Fox is, like, twenty-five.”

“And this is a problem why, exactly?”

Jordan slapped his hand as he reached for more crackers. “Those are for customers.” She put her hand on her hip. “You know, after reading the Scene and Heard column, I’d kind of hoped it was Rylann they were talking about. And that maybe, just maybe, my ne’er-do-well twin had decided to stop playing around and finally pursue a woman of quality.”

He stole another cracker. “Now, that would be something.”

She shook her head. “Why do I bother? You know, one day you’re going to wake up and…”

Kyle’s cell phone buzzed, and he tuned out the rest of Jordan’s lecture—he could probably repeat the whole thing word
for word by now—as he checked the incoming message. It was from Rylann, her response as short and sweet as his original text.

3418 CORNELIA, #3.

He had her address.

With a smile, he looked up and interrupted his sister. “That’s great, Jordo. Hey, by any chance do you have any bottles of that India Ink cabernet lying around?”

She stopped midrant and stared at him. “I’m sure I do. Why, what made you think of that?” Then her face broke into a wide grin. “Wait a second…that was the wine Rylann talked about when she was here. She said it was one of her favorites.”

“Did she? Funny coincidence.”

Jordan put her hand over her heart. “Oh my God, you’re trying to impress her. That is so
cute
.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Kyle scoffed. “I just thought, since I’ve heard such good things about the wine, that I would give it a shot.”

Jordan gave him a look, cutting through all the bullshit. “Kyle. She’s going to love it.”

Okay, whatever. Maybe he was trying to impress Rylann
a little
. “You don’t think it’s too much? Like I’m trying too hard?”

Jordan put her hand over her heart again. “Oh. It’s like watching Bambi take his first steps.”

“Jordo…” he growled warningly.

With a smile, she put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed affectionately. “It’s perfect. Trust me.”

RYLANN’S EYES DID a quick sweep over her apartment as she walked to the front door. Definitely not a penthouse, but it was cute and cozy and, thankfully, clean. Not that Kyle was staying long, she reminded herself. Friday night had been a one-time thing—with the drinks and the romantic lighting in the club and the way he’d been looking at her when he’d said that line about the most beautiful girl in the bar, she’d just sort of let herself be swept up in the moment. But now it was time to face reality.

With that in mind, she threw open the front door. Kyle stood there—more dressed up than she’d expected and looking strikingly attractive in his tailored gray pants and crisp blue shirt.

With an appreciative gleam in his eyes, he took in her cream peasant top and jeans. “So you do own pants.”

Rylann opened her mouth, ready to give him the speech about not complicating things, no matter how great the sexcapades had been—when he held up his hand, cutting her off at the pass.

“Before you get rolling with the lecture, or start heading for the hills again, you should know that this is a no-strings-attached visit. I have something for you.” He held up a silver wine gift bag that flashed with so many sparkles and sequins it nearly blinded her.

Rylann pulled back in surprise. “Oh. Wow.” She hadn’t been expecting him to come bearing
gifts
. Especially one so bedazzled.

He shifted uncomfortably in the doorway. “The bag didn’t look quite as shiny in the store.”

Whatever this was, he looked adorably nervous about it. Rylann held out her hand. “Let me see.” Intrigued, she took the bag from him, pulled out the wine bottle, and read the label.

India Ink
.

“It’s one of my favorites. You remembered that,” she said, staring at the label. “Thank you.”

He made a big show of trying to look nonchalant. “It’s no big deal. Jordan had a couple bottles sitting out, so I grabbed one.”

Rylann leaned against the doorway. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, Kyle, because I really love the wine. But what’s the catch?”

“No catch.” He shrugged. “I don’t know, I just thought we could…hang out and talk.”

He looked as shocked by the suggestion as she was.

“Talk?” Rylann stared at him. “Are you feeling okay? You’re being very…not you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked indignantly. “That I can’t hang out with a girl without sex being on the table?”

Good question. “I don’t know.
Have
you ever hung out with a girl without sex being on the table?”

He immediately scoffed at that. “Of course.”

“Not including high school.”

His busted look said it all.

Rylann smiled. “You might want to plead the Fifth to avoid self-incrimination.”

Kyle looked up at the ceiling, shaking his head. “I swear—no more law geeks. Ever. From now on, I’m sticking with simple, easygoing girls whose goals in life do
not
seemingly include driving me insane.” He folded his arms across his chest. “Look, here’s the deal: today was a good day for me. And strangely enough, you, Rylann Pierce, are the first person I wanted to tell about it.” He held out his hands in exasperation. “Do with that what you will.”

Later, Rylann could tell herself that she’d simply been sucked in by the wine-bottle gesture and how cute Kyle was when he
got worked up and pissed off at her like this. But if she was being honest with herself, she’d have to admit that the fact that he’d wanted to tell
her
about his day had kind of melted her rational, pragmatic, noncrazy heart a teeny, tiny little bit.

So without saying a word, she took a step back, making room for him to come inside. With a victorious grin, Kyle followed her, standing close as she shut the door behind him.

Rylann pointed. “Remember—hands to yourself.”

“Of course, counselor.” He winked. “Unless you say otherwise.”

SINCE THE TEMPERATURE was in the low seventies and the night sky was clear, Rylann suggested sitting outside on the deck located off the back of her third-story apartment. She set the open bottle of India Ink between them, on top of the wooden bistro table she had purchased the previous weekend. She’d also picked up a few planters and some flowers, transforming the deck into an urban minigarden.

“I like it out here,” Kyle said, sitting back in his chair with his glass of wine. “That’s the one downside of my apartment—no outdoor living space. Trust me, you notice that quickly when serving home detention for two straight weeks.”

“I’ve seen the penthouse, Dimples. I’m not exactly crying a river.”

“More tough love from Prosecutrix Pierce,” he said. “Shocking.”

Rylann laughed. ” ‘Prosecutrix Pierce’? Is that what you call me?”

“I find it has a certain authoritative ring that suits you.” Kyle caught her checking him out. “What?”

She gestured to his shirt and pants. “What’s with the business-casual attire? I’m on pins and needles, waiting to hear about this good day you’ve been having.”

“I had two job interviews earlier today.”

Rylann raised her glass to his, thrilled for him. “Congratulations. That’s really great, Kyle. How do you think the interviews went?”

“Very well. I hired both guys.”

Rylann cocked her head, confused. “Wait—
you
hired them?”

He took another sip of his wine, looking pleased with himself. “Weren’t expecting that, were you?”

“No. But now I’m really intrigued.” Rylann studied him curiously. “What are you up to?”

So he told her. As they sat there drinking wine, Kyle told her all about the consulting business he planned to start. Granted, she understood about half of what he was saying, the other half being coded in computer-speak and tech terms, but it didn’t matter. He was clearly passionate about the subject and extremely driven, and that made the entire conversation absolutely fascinating.

It occurred to Rylann that because they’d focused so much these past several weeks on Kyle being an ex-con and her witness, this part of him had been overshadowed. Now, suddenly, she was seeing
him
, this computer genius turned multimillionaire corporate executive who planned to take the tech world by storm.

And she had no doubt that he would do exactly that.

When he finished, Rylann poured them both a second glass of wine, feeling the warm, relaxed glow of the cabernet. “Okay, I admit it. I’m impressed.”

He clutched his heart, feigning shock. “Hold on. Was that an actual compliment?”

“Please don’t ruin the nice moment. It’s so rare that we actually have one.”

With a smile, Kyle leaned back in his chair. “You know, that’s the second time you’ve said that I impress you. You also told me that nine years ago, when I mentioned that I’d sat for my PhD exam.” He tucked his arms behind his head. “So much for never stroking my ego.”

Rylann looked at him, surprised. So it wasn’t just her who recalled many of the details of their first meeting. “You still remember I said that after all these years?”

“I remember pretty much everything about that night.” He
reached forward and grabbed his glass. “Tough weekend to forget,” he said simply. He took a sip, then looked at her.

Since most of her time with Kyle was spent teasing or trading quips, Rylann took advantage of this small opening into real, true emotion and asked something she’d been wondering about ever since they’d reconnected. “Is it weird for you to be around me?” She swirled her glass hesitantly. “Do I remind you of all the bad things that happened that weekend?”

“No.” His tone turned quieter, and his eyes were uncharacteristically serious as they held hers. “Being around you reminds me of the one good thing that happened that weekend.”

Rylann felt a tightening in her chest.

Run
.

There was a part of her that certainly thought she should do just that. Outside her apartment door, she and Kyle didn’t make any sense—he was a famous ex-con, and she was a federal prosecutor.

Tonight, however, inside her apartment…it was just the two of them.

So she got up from her chair and walked over.

Silently, she climbed onto his lap, her legs straddling his waist. Heat instantly flared in his eyes.

She lowered her head. “Just remember your promise. Hands to yourself.” Then she tangled her fingers in his hair and kissed him.

For a long moment their lips and tongues played and teased, like teenagers kissing under the stars. Slowly, Kyle pulled back and brushed a finger along her cheek. “You were not supposed to walk into the courtroom that morning, Rylann Pierce.” His eyes met hers. “I want to be completely honest here. I like you. Probably a lot more than I should. But after everything that happened with Daniela, I was planning on staying the hell away from relationships for a long, long time.”

He waited expectantly, his body more tense than it had been just moments ago, as if steeling himself—whether for an argument, an interrogation, or simply a talk about
feelings
was tough to say.

Instead, Rylann slid her hands up his chest. “I bet that part of the Kyle Rhodes no-strings-attached speech doesn’t always go over so well with the women you date.”

He threaded his fingers through her hair, his eyes searching hers. “Does that mean you don’t care?”

“Are you asking me if I’m looking for something serious here?”

He nodded. “Yes. And that is definitely not part of the usual Kyle Rhodes speech.”

Rylann toyed with one of the buttons on his shirt, trying to decide how best to answer his question. She liked Kyle—probably more than
she
should—but she had genuine concerns about how any sort of long-term relationship between them could work. For both their sakes, things would probably be a lot simpler if they kept it casual.

“Given your history with my office, being in a relationship with you…would be difficult,” she said. “Prosecutors don’t typically date ex-cons. Especially not a prosecutor who’s trying to make a good impression at her new office.”

She expected Kyle to make a joke, most likely something about good-girl prosecutors, but instead, his expression remained serious.

“So where does that leave us?” he asked.

“Honestly? I have no clue.”

He thought about that for a moment, then slid his hand up her back and pulled her closer. “But you’re supposed to be the girl with the plan.”

“Funny enough, I always seem to forget that around you,” Rylann whispered, closing her eyes as he began kissing her neck. Truly, the man had the most wickedly talented mouth. “No more Scene and Heard,” she said, inhaling unsteadily and struggling to stay focused as his lips brushed against her earlobe. She needed to set some ground rules. “We have to be more careful. What happens in the apartment stays in the apartment.”