Luke laughed.
“Ah, that’s why you said ‘responsible’ like that. I was going to say, ‘responsible’ means it was something bad, and that night certainly wasn’t.”
Margot laughed, and then sighed.
“No, but I felt pretty guilty, and Sydney knew it. I didn’t even tell her about that kiss in my office, you know. But she knew I was . . . having trouble not thinking about you. That’s probably why she reacted the way she did to you when you went to the Barrel. She even—”
Margot stopped, and turned the temperature down under the bacon. It wasn’t until she reached for the tongs that he realized she wasn’t going to finish.
“She even what?” he asked her.
She stirred the pasta with the tongs, not looking at him.
“Nothing.” He didn’t think it was nothing, not by the way she avoided his glance. She finally looked up, and laughed at the look on his face. “Fine. She sort of dared me to hit on someone else. Later that same night.”
He tried not to let her see the wave of jealousy that hit him when she said that.
“Did you do it?” He shouldn’t ask. It wasn’t any of his business. Margot had been his boss then.
But he hated it when she nodded.
“I felt like I needed to do something to . . . get you out of my system.” She shrugged. “It didn’t work.”
“Oh?” He wouldn’t ask any more questions. He was glad Sydney’s stupid plan hadn’t worked, obviously, but he didn’t want to know the details.
“Yeah. He kissed me, outside the Barrel.” Great. She was telling him the details anyway. “But I felt nothing at all. So I turned around and went back inside.”
He couldn’t hide his relieved grin.
“Nothing at all, huh?” He took a sip of his wine. “That poor guy.”
He didn’t mean it, though. He didn’t feel sorry for that guy at all.
A few minutes later, Margot set a big bowl of pasta in front of him.
“You are a goddess, Margot Noble,” he said.
She laughed and sat down next to him and stuck a fork into her own pasta.
“You are easy to impress, Luke Williams.”
He shook his head.
“No. I’m not.”
He looked at her—hair piled on top of her head, her cheeks pink from the heat of the kitchen, that soft smile around her lips—and smiled.
They both dove into their pasta. When he was almost done, he thought of something he really should tell her.
“Avery knows. About that first night, I mean. I had no idea you two knew each other when I told her. But I’m sure she hasn’t told anyone.”
“That’s okay.” She laughed. “That does explain why she made it a point to tell me that the two of you were absolutely just friends.”
He pushed her robe to the side and put a hand on her thigh.
“She told me she thought you were jealous when you saw us together at dinner, but I didn’t believe her.”
She leaned closer to him.
“Oh, she was right.”
He couldn’t help himself from smiling at that.
“I can’t tell her that, I’ll never hear the end of it,” he said. “But I’m glad you told me.”
She smiled as he played with the sash of her robe.
“Oh, are you?”
He nodded, and moved his hand up higher.
“Mmmhmm.” He looked at her. “I don’t—quite—understand why you have clothes on right now.”
She shrugged. The neckline of her robe almost—but not quite—fell off her shoulders.
“Apparently, someone was concerned about me cooking in the nude. I was a little worried that meant he didn’t want to see me naked, but—”
He kissed her, hard, before she could finish that sentence. He pushed her legs apart and slid his fingers inside of her, and she gasped against his mouth.
“Do you need me to tell you how I feel about seeing you naked?” He untied her robe and stared down at her. “Do you need me to tell you how often I fantasized about just that, how clearly I remembered this mole, right here?” He licked that hollow between her breasts and sucked on the mole in the center. “Because I can, if you want. But also, that big bed of yours looked very enticing. I have a feeling we can have a lot of fun there.”
Margot stood up, leaving the robe behind.
“I’m not sure this has to be an either-or,” she said.
He followed her into the bedroom.
“You’re absolutely right. One question: Are you really as flexible as I’ve remembered? And if so . . .”
* * *
MARGOT WOKE UP EARLY the next morning. She could sense Luke’s presence in her bed, even though they weren’t touching. Her back was to him, but she could feel his warmth behind her. The sound of his regular breathing relaxed her. Even though she had no real idea what was next for them.
Was this just another one-night thing? Just to get each other out of their respective systems, so they could stop thinking about how it would be (fantastic) and wondering if the first time had been a fluke (absolutely not) and then go forth and forget about each other since they didn’t have to see each other every day anymore?
She hoped not. She didn’t know what she wanted from Luke, but she knew that she wanted more than one more great night.
She had to tell him that. She’d had enough of all of this uncertainty and pretending.
His slow, even breathing changed. She felt movement behind her. And then a gentle kiss on her shoulder blade. And then another. And then another.
She turned over and smiled at him.
“I thought I dreamed you,” she said.
He burst out laughing, and kissed her cheek.
“Good morning to you, too.” He put his hand on her waist and pulled her closer. He didn’t move his hand up, or down; all he did was hold her like that and kiss her shoulder. She leaned her head against his chest and relaxed into him. When was the last time someone had held her, just like this? Without asking for anything in return, but just because? She couldn’t remember. She hadn’t realized how much she’d wanted this. Needed it.
“I hate to ask this,” he said after a few minutes. “But what time is it?”
She reached for her phone, which she kept on her bedside table overnight. It wasn’t there.
“I think I left my phone in the living room.” She looked up at him. “I must have had my mind on other things last night.”
He grinned at her. His cheek was creased from the pillow, his eyes were still only half-open, and he was the best thing she’d seen in the morning for a very long time.
“You must have.”
He kissed her cheek and then pulled himself out of bed.
“Let me grab mine. I’m sorry, I wouldn’t even bother, but you see”—he shook his head—“I have this new job now, I have to get there a lot earlier than my old one.”
She laughed as he walked out of the room.
He was back in a few seconds, his phone in one hand and his clothes in the other.
“I have time to go home and change and get to the inn on time, but I have to leave”—he looked down at the phone in his hand—“in only a few minutes, which does not give me the time to do what I want to do right now, with you all warm and naked and luscious.”
Had anyone ever described her in such complimentary terms before? Certainly none that made her feel this good.
“That’s unfortunate,” she said as she watched him pull his clothes on.
“It really is,” he said, his eyes on her.
When he was almost dressed, she got out of bed and slid into the robe hanging on the back of her closet door. Not her silk one, that was in the living room still . . . or maybe the kitchen? She needed to remember to hang it up. Maybe get it dry-cleaned. It had done so much for her.
She smiled at the disorder in her house as they walked to the front door. Pasta bowls, forgotten in the kitchen. Her robe, on the kitchen floor. Her laptop and phone, on the corner of the coffee table. The couch cushions everywhere.
He turned to her when they got to the door. She had to do this now, before she lost her nerve. She opened her mouth, to tell him that she wanted to see him again, that she didn’t want this to be like last time, when he touched her bottom lip with his fingertip.
“When can I see you again?” he asked.
A spark of joy flamed in her chest. She must have looked surprised, because he laughed.
“I haven’t lusted after you for the past month to let you get away with this only being one night, you know. Not again.”
Lusted after her. She liked the sound of that.
“Plus,” he said, “don’t you want to find out if this is something?” He looked at her for a long moment. “I do.”
She reached for his hand and smiled at him in the way she’d wanted to, but couldn’t, for the past month.
“Yeah,” she said. “I do, too. Tonight?”
He smiled back at her.
“Tonight’s great.”
She pulled him against her body and kissed him, and it was so easy, so perfect, so good. After too short a time, he took a step back.
“I want to stay here all day, but . . .”
She dropped her hand.
“I know. You have to go.”
He opened the door and took a step outside, before he stopped and turned back around.
“Do you think that maybe now you’ll give me your number?”