Maybe she should have simply worn jeans. Did a skirt imply a date? She didn’t want him thinking she thought this was more than it was.
Before she could make herself totally insane, she turned on Ethan’s street and paused to admire the house. It was relatively new, craftsman style with a wide porch and plenty of wood. Cream shutters contrasted with the deep green of the main house.
There was plenty more to appreciate, but she had a feeling that if she stood in front too long, she wouldn’t have the courage to go inside. Eventually the neighbors would notice her frozen on the sidewalk, assume she was crazy and call the police. From there it would all be downhill, proving that going inside was probably the safest and best plan.
She made her way to the front door, which opened before she could knock. Ethan stood there, looking tall and masculine and sexy in jeans, boots and a soft white shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows. His hair was slightly mussed, his expression both welcoming and expectant. For a second she felt a very different kind of tension—one that began low in her belly and worked itself all over her body. While it was better than nerves or annoyance, it wasn’t any safer.
She’d loved Ethan once, she reminded herself. That made her vulnerable. Just because they’d worked through a few things didn’t mean she could relax now. Noticing that he was a good-looking guy who made her insides sigh with appreciation wasn’t anything she had time for.
“You made it,” he noted.
“Amazing but true.” She stepped inside. “Great house. Did you build it?”
“A few years ago.”
“With Rayanne?” she asked before she could stop herself.
“No. I sold that house.”
Because of the memories? Probably, she thought, telling herself not to ask questions if she didn’t want to hear the answers.
“Come on in,” he said, motioning her to the left.
The entryway was large and open, with a two-story ceiling and dark wood floors. She crossed the space and entered a huge living room with a fireplace at one end and a view of the mountains through big windows.
The furniture was masculine but comfortable, the artwork conservative. Rugs covered enough of the hardwood floor that sound didn’t echo. On the far side was an opening to a dining room.
He led the way into the kitchen which was filled with cherry cabinets, miles of granite and large south-facing windows. Two bar stools had been pulled up to the counter. There was a bottle of red wine and two glasses, along with a plate of appetizers. Delicious scents of garlic and spices drifted from one of the two stainless steel ovens.
“I’m impressed,” she said.
“Don’t be. I know a great caterer. I call, food arrives, I heat it.”
He waited until she took one of the seats before reaching for the wine.
“The perfect bachelor lifestyle?” she asked.
“Some days.” He opened the bottle with an easy, practiced motion. “You’re not married, either. Want to talk about it?”
She took the glass of wine he offered and shook her head. “Not really.”
“Because of the guy or because we should stick to safer topics?”
“I think safer topics are a better idea,” she answered cautiously.
“You sound wary.”
“I’m prepared to practice my duck-and-cover skills.”
He gave her a smile. “Because I may start using you as target practice again?”
“Absolutely.”
The bar was high enough that with her sitting and him standing, they were practically at eye level. She could see all the shades of brown that made up his irises, the long, thick lashes that took her three coats of mascara to achieve. If she inhaled deeply, she would catch the scent of soap and man. A scent she remembered, even now.
“Tonight we’ve called a truce,” he declared, touching his glass to hers. “Remember?”
“And I can trust you?”
The smile turned into the slow, sexy grin she remembered. The one that made her think about how long it had been since she’d had a man in her bed. No, not a man, she corrected herself. This man.
They might have been young, but he’d still been a whole lot more than her first time. He’d been her best time. He’d made love with a combination of affection and tenderness no one else had matched. He’d made her believe that anything was possible.
And then he’d broken her heart.
“A truce,” she agreed, knowing that having loved Ethan once, she would always be vulnerable to him. She had to stay strong to protect herself and Tyler.
He moved to the other side of the counter and pushed the plate of food toward her.
“How’s it going with Roy’s kids?” he asked.
“So far, so good. I’ve got them fed and feeling safe, so that’s half the battle.” She leaned toward him. “They survived on their own for nearly three months. Roy’s wife left them one hundred dollars and took off. I want to report her to the police, but I need to talk to Roy first. Find out what he wants.”