Desire's Edge (2 page)
“I remember you used to drive that old VW Bug,” he said, moving closer. “It was baby blue. Do you still have it?”
“What? No, of course not.” She laughed.
God, he looked good. Gorgeous. The sweater fit his broad shoulders perfectly, outlining the breadth of them. He definitely had some muscle under there.
“It’d be worth a lot these days,” he said.
“I sold it after high school and got something more mature,” she told him, smiling.
“I did the same. Sold my old Camaro and got a small sedan right after college. It’s funny how we all have these ideas about what being an adult means. I wish I had that car now.”
“What did you do after college besides sell your muscle car?” she asked him. “You were going for a law degree, right? And I think your whole family moved away?”
“I went to Yale, got my law degree there. I lived in New York for a while, worked at a firm there. My folks retired and moved to Colorado right around the time I finished school. But my brother, Lorenzo, is still here in Seattle. Do you remember him?”
“He’s a bit older than you, isn’t he? I think he graduated at the end of my freshman year. He looked a lot like you.”
Dante nodded. “He’s a civil engineer, married just last year. We’re pretty close. I moved back to Seattle a couple of years ago. I thought it’d be nice to be close to family. Is your family still here?” Dante asked.
“My parents never moved away from the island, although they both still work in the city.”
“You never had any brothers or sisters, did you?”
“No. Just me.”
Her mother, owner of one of the top architectural firms in Seattle, had never had time for more than one child. She’d never really had time for Kara. And her father, a stern and disapproving man, had his own law practice, which had always meant long hours. Even if their personalities had been conducive to parenting, their jobs certainly weren’t.
She had chosen a man just like her father when she’d gotten together with Jake. Harsh. Judgmental. Just like Brady back in high school, come to think of it. Apparently her father had ruined her ability to pick a man. Another good reason to have sworn off them. And she would stick to it. Even if Dante De Matteo, her crush since she was a teenager, was standing so close to her. Talking to her. Watching her with an appraising gaze and smiling. Making her tingle all over.
“So, no art degree, Kara? What are you doing now?”
“I ended up with a law degree, too, actually. I’m surprised we haven’t run into each other.”
“So am I. And that it took so long for me to run into Lucie. But I’m glad I did.” His dimples were flashing at her again. “I’m glad she invited me here so I could run into you, finally.” He gestured with his chin. “Mind if I sit with you?”
Her body gave another surge of heat.
“Um, no. Go ahead.”
He moved across the porch and was in front of her in a few long strides, settling his lanky body next to her on the porch swing. She caught his scent, something dark and male, with a hint of musk that made her shivery inside. And she could feel the heat emanating from him. Or maybe the heat was her own, building, spiraling, with him next to her.
“Are you practicing law”? he asked her; then he shook his head. “I really always have thought of you as an artist.”
“So did I, for a long time . . .”
It was so strange, hearing him say these things to her. An artist . . . It was what she’d always wanted. How did he remember how important art was to her? The idea made her heart beat a little faster.
He was watching her, his gaze dark, intense. “You should go after whatever you want, Kara.”
She crossed her legs, draped a hand over her knee where her wrap dress revealed a few inches of bare thigh between the hem and the tops of her high, brown suede boots. “Do you think so? It’s not always as easy as it sounds.”
She had the distinct impression he was flirting with her. And she was definitely flirting back.
He nodded. “A missed opportunity only leaves behind regret.”
“I agree.”
“I always liked you in high school,” he said suddenly, his tone lowering.
“Did you?”
“Yes. Always. I remember you when you were fourteen, fifteen. You had the longest legs even then.”
He moved his knee, tapping it against hers. She went warm all over, a lovely rush of heat.
“Hey, you two. Anyone need a refill?” Lucie had a wine bottle in her hand. Her blond hair was piled on top of her head, her cheeks pink, glowing with the chilly night air and probably a few glasses of wine. “I almost forgot you guys would know each other from school.”
“We were just talking about that. And I’m not drinking tonight. Kara, more wine?” Dante offered, taking her glass, his fingers brushing against hers. He took the bottle from Lucie, filled Kara’s glass, handed it back. This time he paused, his fingertips lying against hers for one long moment. He smiled at her. She heated all over, a furnace blast of pure desire.
“Okay, then . . . I’ll just . . . go on back inside,” Lucie said, disappearing back into the house.
But Kara hardly heard her. She pulled in a deep breath, took a sip of the wine.
Need to calm down.
He had a dazzling smile. There was no other word for it. His face was all masculine planes and angles: a finely sculpted jaw, high, almost sharp cheekbones. But his mouth was nothing short of lush. Generous. And the dimples . . . When he smiled, her entire body melted. She felt like a teenager all over again, dumbfounded by that smile.
She lifted her glass and sipped, realizing only when the wine was all gone that she wasn’t nearly as buzzed as she’d thought she was. Maybe the shock of seeing Dante, her reaction to him, had sobered her up.
“You’re still as pretty as ever, Kara,” Dante told her out of the blue, that golden-brown gaze on her. “I hope you don’t mind my saying so.”
She shook her head.
Speak, Kara.
“Thank you.”
“Beautiful, really,” he murmured.
He was staring at her. Her cheeks heated once more, that warm and needy place between her thighs.
“Will it make you blush more if I ask you if you’re single?”
She sighed. “Yes.”
“Ah, I’m sorry. None of my business. Forgive me.”
He was all old-world manners. He always had been—a gentleman, even in high school. She’d loved it then. Loved it now.
“No, I mean, yes, I’m single,” she told him. “I broke off with someone about six months ago. Well, he broke up with me.”
“He was a foolish man.”
She shrugged. “Maybe. What about you? Married?”
“No, I’ve never been married. And I’m . . . on my own.”
“Ah.” She felt awkward, suddenly. She usually had no trouble talking to people. She considered herself outgoing. She was a trial lawyer, for God’s sake! Why couldn’t she put two sensible sentences together?
“Kara, am I making you uncomfortable? I don’t mean to ask such personal questions. It’s just been so long since I’ve seen you. I’d really like to catch up.”
“No, it’s fine. I’m fine.” She let out a small laugh. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’ve had a little too much wine, maybe.” It was a lie—she still felt only the slightest hint of a buzz—but a convenient excuse. “I’d like to catch up, too.”
He smiled at her, his dimples creasing his cheeks, making her pulse race once more. Then he reached out and brushed the backs of his fingers over her wrist, almost absentmindedly. Except that when she looked up at him, he was watching her, that golden gaze on hers. There was an odd expression on his face, and it took her a moment to recognize the naked desire there. And even through her clothes she swore she could feel his heat, arcing like a small shock from his hand through her arm.
She pulled in a breath, dizzy with sensation.
This cannot be happening.
Except that it was.
It was just chemistry. She’d had a crush on him for years, and now here he was, as if by magic. Looking better than ever. And he was nice. Smart. Easy to talk to. It was a perfectly normal response. Any woman would have to be blind and completely frigid not to respond to Dante De Matteo.
She was pretty sure he had never touched her before. She wanted him to do it again.
She focused on his mouth for a moment, then lifted her gaze back to his. Oh yes, hunger there. And something else . . . like an unasked question.
She swallowed, looked away into the darkness of the yard, and beyond it to the street, the amber glow of the streetlights illuminating the fog.
“Kara? Did I say something wrong?”
She turned back to him. “What? No, of course not. It’s just . . . it’s a little strange, seeing you again.”
“Yes. Strange, but good.”
He smiled, a thousand-watt smile. There was invitation there.
She was beginning to forget exactly why she’d sworn off men. It wasn’t as though she was going to get involved with Dante. She was definitely not in the market for a relationship. And she was no shrinking violet. Maybe it was time for her self-imposed dry spell to end. If he was interested and she was interested, then she didn’t see anything wrong in a little flirtation. Maybe leading to something more . . .
She watched him watching her. And was glad she was a habitual lingerie girl. She decided then that if the evening ended with her taking Dante home with her, perhaps that was better than sitting around feeling sorry for herself. And with Dante around, there would be nothing to be sorry for.
She smiled back, letting her own invitation reach her eyes.
Eyes like they were made of metal. Silver and gold and edged in green . . .
Dante felt stunned by her. He hadn’t seen her for twelve years, yet his body was responding exactly the way it had when he was a teenager. His pulse was hot, racing. He had to force down the arousal in his system, try not to get hard. But the girl he’d dreamed about through the last two years of high school was sitting right next to him.
He remembered suddenly the shock on her face when he’d punched out that punk Brady Metcalf. And the way that shock had warmed into a brilliant smile, just for him. That had made it worth it—getting suspended in the final week of his senior year. He’d have done it anyway. Brady was getting rough with her, and he sure as hell wouldn’t have let anything happen to her. But he’d never forgotten that smile . . .
She’d been too young then, and he’d never pursued anything with her. She was still in high school while he was getting ready to go away to college. But she was all grown up now. Warm and female, her pale skin luminous in the amber light of the porch. As they’d talked, she’d begun to lean toward him, sending a subtle signal. And now her smile—sweet and sensual and reflecting the same desire he felt like a sharp current in his system—just about knocked him out.
Her light brown hair was long, as it had been in high school, a smooth, heavy sheaf of shining strands. He wanted to touch it. He wanted to touch
her
.
her
.
He
wanted
her.
wanted
her.
Slow down, buddy.
His body didn’t want to. But this was someone he’d known years ago, not some girl to pick up in a bar or at the Pleasure Dome, the BDSM club he’d frequented the last several years. Not a woman to have a brief fling with then never see again. Kara was the girl next door. Literally. And he was always especially careful with the vanilla girls. Not that he couldn’t enjoy sex with a woman who wasn’t interested in the rougher games he played. He could. He often did. But that taboo edge made things more exciting. Revealing that to someone new was always a delicate situation. Revealing that to someone he’d known when they were just kids . . . But they weren’t kids anymore.
Jesus, he was thinking as though she’d already offered to sleep with him, offered herself up to him on a silver platter.
Not that he’d mind if she did.
He went hard thinking about that. He couldn’t help it.
Calm down.
He pulled in a long breath of the cool night air, exhaled.
“Would you like me to get you some more wine?” he asked her, thinking a short diversion might be a good idea, a moment inside the house where he could cool off.
“No, I don’t need any more. Thanks.”
She set the glass down on the floor of the porch. Smiled at him again. That sweet mouth. Her lips would be so soft . . . and suddenly he couldn’t think of any reason not to just lean in and kiss her.
He did—one hand going to her cheek, he moved in a little at a time, giving her a chance to pull away. But all she did was part her lips, her big hazel eyes on his, then fluttering shut as he got closer.
Her lips were soft, softer than he’d imagined. And she was going soft all over, her body yielding, leaning into his. Yielding was one thing he recognized easily. And this woman had it, that ability to give herself over, whether she was aware of it or not.
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