"You stopped talking to me," she countered. "You were super critical. And when I wouldn't do what you wanted, you were done."
"You were throwing yourself away; I couldn't watch it," he said harshly. "I'd seen that show before. I hated that helpless feeling of watching someone I cared about heading straight for pain and suffering."
Seeing the dark depths in his eyes now, she sensed they were talking about more than just her. "You haven't told me anything about your mom. Is she well? Does she live in Chicago?"
He cleared his throat and sat up straighter in his chair. "We weren't going to talk about the past, remember?"
"That was during pizza." She tipped her head toward the empty platter. "We're done."
"Yeah, and we should probably get going," he said, picking up the check.
"We can split that."
"I've got it." He pulled out his wallet and put some cash down on the table. "Ready to go?"
She wasn't ready to go. She'd been having a lovely conversation with him, and he'd just pulled the plug. But he was already on his feet, so she had no choice but to put on her coat and follow him out the door.
"I can walk to my hotel," she said, as they stepped onto the sidewalk in front of the restaurant, which was situated along the river and only a few blocks from where she was staying.
"I'll walk with you."
"I don't need a bodyguard. In fact, I could probably take someone out faster than you."
"Oh, yeah?"
"I'm very well trained."
"I didn't notice a weapon tucked under your jacket."
"Well, I don't usually need one when I've been relegated to desk work."
"Maybe you should think about actually staying at that desk, considering everything that is going on."
"I probably should," she agreed, as they headed along the path that wound itself along the river.
A party boat came down the dark canal with its lights on and music wafting across the water. "I really like this area. I don't know why we never came down here."
"That invisible fence," he reminded her.
"I guess so. And if we did come, it was to pick some cash from some distracted tourist."
His eyebrow shot up. "You never told me you did that."
"It was once or twice, and I wasn't very good at it. I felt bad that I was taking someone's money. You never did it?"
"Nope."
"Well, you always walked a higher moral ground than I did."
"That's not true," he said sharply, anger suddenly filling his voice.
"What did I say?"
"Nothing. Never mind."
"Really? It seems like you had a rather intense reaction just now."
"I have a lot of intense reactions when you're around," he said dryly.
"I do seem to set you off." She paused along the rail, seeing her hotel just up ahead and not wanting to get there quite yet. "This is pretty. In my head, I only remember the ugliness of Chicago, but this is nice."
"They've made a lot of improvements along the river: new restaurants, bars, lots of space for walking and jogging and just hanging out." He leaned against the rail, and then gave her a curious look. "I've been wondering about something. When did you change your name to Adams?"
"In Detroit. The woman who helped me with the adoption also helped me with the name change. She got all my paperwork updated and said I was going to have a new start. I definitely needed that to complete my escape from my life, so I went with it."
"I'm sure the FBI did a background check on you. Surely, your old name came up."
"Of course. But it didn't matter. I hadn't changed it because I had done something illegal. I just wanted a new name."
"How did you pick Adams?" he asked, then a smile spread across his face. "Wait, I know the answer. It was because of that movie—The Addams Family. We must have watched that tape a dozen times at the shelter. You liked that girl—what was her name?"
"Wednesday. She was so weird and magical at the same time. And she always spoke her mind. But I do not spell my last name with two d's. That would have been odd, and I wanted to be even for the first time in my life," she said with a laugh. "I'd been odd far too long."
"You were not odd. You were beautiful; you still are, Bree."
His gaze swept across her face, bringing with it a rush of heat.
"You shouldn't say things like that, Nathan."
"Why not?"
"Because…" She had no idea how to finish her statement. "We—we're friends, well, maybe not friends, but we…" She stumbled to find appropriate words.
"You can't define us. We defy definition."
"Well, that's true." Her mouth went dry as his gaze settled on her lips. "But I don't know what you want."
"Yes, you do."
He straightened suddenly, his hands sliding around her waist, setting off a wave of anticipation. He gave her a long look that made her heart race. And then he lowered his head—so slowly her nerves were screaming.
Finally, his mouth was on hers.
She felt like she'd been waiting for his kiss forever.
Nathan took possession of her mouth as if he owned it, and she couldn't quite believe how much she liked that. His need for her was compelling, drawing forth a deeper need for him than she had expected.
And as he slanted his head to get a better angle, she went with him, putting her arms around his neck, opening her mouth to his, letting go of all the reasons why they shouldn't be doing this and grabbing on to all the reasons that they should.
Nathan, the imaginative boy, and Nathan the somewhat angry teenager, merged into this Nathan, this incredibly sexy, powerful, strong man who kissed her like he was never going to let her go.
But, of course, he did eventually let her go, raising his head, his eyes gleaming in the moonlight.
She stared back at him in amazed confusion. "So, that happened."
His hands dropped from her waist, and he took a step back. "I'm not going to apologize."
"I didn't ask you to."
"You kissed me back," he said, a hint of surprise in his voice.
"Didn't you want me to?"
"I did. I just…" His voice drifted away. Then he said, "I didn't know if you would." He ran a hand through his hair. "I've been wanting to kiss you for a long time."
His words sent her heart racing again. "I—I didn't know that."
"I think you did," he said quietly. "But you wanted someone else."
Their gazes clung together. They had been so close at times but also so distant at others. Was he right? Hadn't she known he liked her as more than a friend? Hadn't she thought at times that his teenage anger was jealousy? But sometimes it had also just felt like dislike.
"You were hard to read in high school, Nathan."
"Maybe." He turned and looked out at the water. "It doesn't matter."
She could feel him pulling away, and she didn't like it. She put her hand on his arm and his gaze swung around to hers. "Putting our past aside, what happened just now…it was good."
His eyes brightened. "It was."
"So maybe we just agree on that, and let it be…"
"I don't know if I can just let it be—that's the problem." His phone buzzed. Taking it out of his pocket, he frowned and then silenced the call.
"Who was that?" she asked.
"It doesn't matter."
"It was Adrienne, wasn't it?" She let out a breath, seeing the answer in his face. She'd completely forgotten he was seeing someone. "You should call her."
"We're not done here."
"We should be. You have a woman in your life, and I'm leaving as soon as this case is over. We can't start anything now."
"We started all this a very long time ago, Bree. One of these days we're going to finish it."
"Maybe we finished it now. We had our kiss. It was good. That's it." She started walking, and he reluctantly fell into step alongside her.
They didn't speak until they got to the front door of her hotel. Then he said, "What if I told you I don't want this to be it? What would you say?"
She let out a breath, wrestling with reckless temptation. "I want to say—then come up to my room."