Melting the Ice (A Play-by-Play Novel)

“Then maybe you should have said no when I invited you to dinner.”


She shot him a look, then realized she couldn’t blame him. He was right. She was an adult and capable of making her own decisions. It wasn’t like he’d kidnapped her or in any way forced her to come to dinner with him. It was her own weakness where he was concerned that pissed her off.

“Maybe I should have. Next time I’ll say no when you invite me out.”

“What makes you think I’ll invite you out again?”

Refusing to take the bait this time, she sat silently while the car took them to her apartment. She reached for the door handle, but Drew stopped her.

“I’ll walk you up.”

She let out a short laugh. “I don’t think so.”

Ignoring her, when the driver opened the door, he stepped out after her, his long stride bringing him alongside her.

“I don’t want you coming up with me.”

“I’m going to see you to your door. It’s the way I was brought up.”

She stopped. “Oh . . . so now you’re being a gentleman?”

Apparently, he wasn’t taking the bait, either, because he merely smiled and held the door for her while she went inside and to the elevator. Clearly she wasn’t going to be able to get rid of him, so she stepped into the elevator and rode with him to her floor, then walked to her door. Key in hand, she unlocked her door and turned to him.

“Thank you for dinner.”

“Why don’t you invite me in for an after-dinner drink?”

“I might be dumb, Drew, but I’m not stupid.”

“Not sure I know what that means. Can I use your bathroom?”

She rolled her eyes at the obvious ploy. “No.”

“Come on, Carolina. It’s kind of urgent. I had a lot of wine and it’s a long ride back to my apartment.”

“Fine.” She stepped in and closed the door while he made his way down the hall. She hung up her coat and went into the kitchen to put the kettle on to boil to make tea.

“What are you doing?”

She jumped, her thoughts lost in what she was going to be working on tonight, along with the tea. She turned to face him. “I’m making tea.”

He wrinkled his nose. “No coffee?”

“I do have coffee.”

“Good. I’d love some.” He shed his coat.

Drew was the worst guest ever. She followed him into the living room. “Don’t you have a car waiting?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t you think you should go downstairs and get in it?”

He blew into his hands. “No. He’ll wait. Do you want me to make the coffee?”

She let out a frustrated sigh. Drew was either utterly dense or deliberately trying to piss her off. He wasn’t stupid, so she was going with the latter. Surely he knew she had work to do and that she wanted him to leave.

She should just ask him to go. Damn her upbringing. Her mother would kick her butt if she found out she’d thrown out a guest, even if it was Drew. The Prestons always treated company with a smile. They were always polite.

Ugh. She wanted to boot his annoying ass right out the door. “No. I’ll make the coffee.”

She put water in her brewer and stuck a brew cup in, then pressed the button to start the warming process and grabbed a cup.

“Cream and sugar?” she asked him.

“Black is fine for me.”

She prepared her tea, then his coffee. “Why don’t we go into the living room and sit down?”

“Okay.”

She mentally relaxed her jaw, which had tightened when Drew had invited himself to stay. Thinking of all the sketching and notes she had to make, she forced her shoulders down and tried to relax.

Always be a good hostess. That was the Preston way. After all, he couldn’t stay all night long.

Could he?

She glanced at her watch. It was eleven thirty.

And it was going to be a long night.

? ? ?

DREW SHOULD HAVE BEEN A GOOD SPORT AND LEFT Carolina at the door, but there was something about this woman that got under his skin.

He couldn’t just let it go—let her go.

Besides, she was just so damn polite. She should have stopped him downstairs. Or at the door. She should have been rude to him and told him to take a hike. Instead, she’d been gracious, letting him come in when he’d given her that bogus excuse about needing to take a leak. Then she’d even made him coffee, when any other woman would have kicked his ass out the front door.

Typical Preston manners. He’d seen it plenty in Gray’s parents, especially his mother. God knew Gray didn’t have the same manners. Gray would kick your ass if you needed it, though he still possessed elements of etiquette—more so than any of the other guys, anyway.

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