Just a little.
Sometimes Ava felt like she had a little wall of ice around her emotions. Not because of any traumatic breakup, or angsty romantic past, but just like she was sort of born without that softness that most of her girlfriends seemed to have.
But now…now it was occurring to her that maybe she just hadn’t met the right man. Hadn’t met the person who cared enough to look beneath the surface.
And this man had. He’d asked about Ava the person. Not Ava the talking head on TV.
Ava’s emotions felt anything but frozen at the moment.
“The man beneath the uniform is exactly what I want to show people,” she said, keeping her voice soft. It’s that human element that made you pseudo-famous in the first place.”
Luc’s eyes went warm, and he took a half step closer. “Now who’s putting on the moves?”
She hadn’t realized how close they were standing before, and now there were only inches separating them. The world around them seemed to go quiet, and her gaze dropped to his mouth.
It would be so easy to lean into him.
So easy to take this simmering attraction between them to the next level.
And yet…
He was a story. Her story. The story.
And if this thing between them went south…
Ava took a quick step back, then another. Luc gave her a small smile that said he knew exactly what she was up to, but he didn’t fight her on it.
He pulled his hands out of his pockets and gestured toward the door as though the heat of the previous moment had never happened. “Come on, Sims. Let’s get you home.”
“I am home.”
“You’ve met Nonna. What do you think she’ll do to me when she finds out I didn’t walk a lady to her door?”
“All right, Moretti. But let it be known that I will be calling you old-fashioned at some point in my story.”
“Bring it on. The kind of girls I like love old-fashioned.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to ask what kind of girls he liked, but instead, she rolled her eyes and headed toward the front door of her building.
She looked at him expectantly when he reached out to hold the door for her, and he shook his head. “No way, Sims. All the way to your door.”
“Said the stalker,” she muttered.
“Said the cop,” he corrected.
“Fine,” she said, oddly charmed by his old-school ways. It had been a long time since anyone had walked her to a door. “But the elevator only works about half the time, so stairs it is.”
Stepping into the stairwell, Ava had already reached into her purse and was pulling out her flip-flops before she remembered that she wasn’t alone.
She halted in the process of pulling off her stiletto heel and gave a curious Luc a sheepish smile. “Sorry, habit.”
He waved a hand. “Don’t change routine on my account.”
Since it was too late to reverse the process without looking like an idiot, Ava quickly slipped her feet into her flip-flops before scooping up her stilettos and carrying them by their heels in one hand.
She eyed him testily. “What, no lecture on how we women shouldn’t wear uncomfortable shoes if they make us miserable?”
He held up his hands. “I said nothing of the kind. I’m not going to stand here and tell you that I don’t think the four-inch heels are dead sexy.”
Ava huffed and headed up the stairs. “Then you wear them up three flights of stairs!”
“A well-fed Sims is an ornery Sims,” she heard him mutter, as he followed her up the stairs and down the hallway to her third-floor apartment.
Ava dug her keys out of her bag and turned to face him. If this were a date—a real date—this would be the moment of truth.
The kiss-or-no-kiss moment, which if ended in the kiss option would have turned into the nightcap or no nightcap, which would turn into sex or no sex…
Not a date, Ava. He’s just a job.
“Thanks again, for dinner,” she said, giving him a bland smile. “You really didn’t have to pay, but I appreciate it.”