“You’ve finished?” I blurt, surprised by his admission.
His smile is warm but doesn’t quite meet his eyes. And I feel foolish for even asking. Of course he finished. He was close to completion when I ran.
“Don’t,” he whispers, moving in closer.
Even on the crowded street his quiet word rings in my ears. The way he looks at me, it’s as if he’s reading my soul. All of a sudden, I feel the anguish he must see on my face. He holds my gaze a second longer. Then he straightens and continues as if no time apart has passed between us.
“I’m temporarily working with one of the top guys in oncology. A doctor in his practice is out on maternity leave. I’m filling in, but it has the potential to lead to a full-time position. It could be an opportunity of a lifetime. However, I need to figure out if I like the area enough to make a permanent move. You know my heart’s in Charleston. The rest is up to fate.”
That word again. Has fate placed him in my path? What are the odds that I’d slip and he’d be the one to catch me, miles and miles away from our hometown?
There are many reasons why I shouldn’t be curious. The biggest of which is that I’d left Charleston after he gave me many reasons to stay.
“I should head back to work. I’m already late,” I mutter with averted eyes.
His hand halts my escape, making it impossible to move around him. Earnest eyes search mine before he decides what he wants to say.
“We should have lunch or dinner? Something to do with a meal. I know your favorite is Italian. Word has it there is a good restaurant not too far from here.”
“I don’t know,” I admit honestly. My captured eyes break from his in favor of the ground, searching for an escape hatch. As beautiful as the man is, so much pain surrounds any possible relationship between us. I hurt him when I left and I hurt myself as well.
A finger lifts my chin as he forces me to stare into his gorgeous eyes.
“We don’t have to talk about the past—Charleston, the hospital, any of it. It can be as if we’re meeting for the first time. We can make a brand new start.”
My heart gallops like a thoroughbred on a wild boar hunt.
“Drew—”
He shakes his head again. “No, let’s try something new.”
He takes a small step back before proffering his hand.
“Hi, I’m Andy.”
“Andy?” I’m sure my eyebrows shoot into my hairline.
He leans in and whispers, “Calling me anything else would remind you of the past.”
I bite my bottom lip because the name does stir ugly emotions in my stomach. They are the kind that turns my face red with fat tears spilling down my cheeks. I’ve run from those emotions and the man before me.
Unable to do anything else with the hand offered to me as if in truce, I take it with a faint smile. “Hi, Andy.”
He keeps my hand for many seconds, much longer than any stranger would. When we finally let go, a crooked smile that should be properly named a sexy smirk appears on his face. “Nice to meet you, Cate.” He playfully waggles his eyebrows. “Can I have your number?”
The cliché line should be cheesy, but the way he says it would make any woman’s panties melt.
I glance away, not wanting him to see how affected I am. More than that, he subtly lets me know that he realizes I’ve changed my number. That means he’s tried to call me despite it all. The fact that he doesn’t give me crap about it adds value to his declaration of a fresh start.
He uses his black leather-gloved hand to touch my cheek and draw me from my inner turmoil. I’m forced to face him and the truth of my actions.
“I see your pretty little head working. We’re here in DC away from everything. No one has to know,” he says before letting me go.
The idea that our family or friends might catch the slightest clue we’re considering dating freaks me out. After everything, I still haven’t forgiven myself. I shake that thought away. In a moment of free will, I pull my phone from my pocket. God only knows if I’m making the right decision, but I’m tired of running. Let me rephrase that. I’m tired of running from him.
“What’s yours?”
His smile thaws me from my face all the way to my toes. He doesn’t answer. The pads of his gloved thumb glide over my cheeks.
“You’re still as beautiful as the first day I saw you.”
His eyes laser onto mine in a way that sends a shockwave to my core. Just like then, I’m embarrassed by my reaction to him. The idea of his touch makes my center clench with expectation.
I watch his lips move as he recites his number. It’s a wonder how I manage to hear him, as I’m transfixed thinking about all the things he can do with his capable mouth. The text I send is simple. Three words, the order of which come from my inner vixen.
Lunch Dinner or Breakfast.