She trembled, but not from any residual doubt. She wanted him, too. “If it’s any consolation,” he continued, “I’m not like this either. I don’t usually kiss a woman on the first date.”
She met his eyes. “Well, then you’re way off schedule. We haven’t even had a first date. That’s tomorrow.” She bumped his shoulder teasingly with hers. “Unless you’re seeing Sparkle Jeans instead.”
“Sparkle Jeans?”
“Leggy supermodel from the Italian restaurant today?”
“Ah, her. Like I told you, it wasn’t a date. Old friend. Bad idea. Nothing happened, Claire. Nothing will.”
“How do you know that?”
He took her face in his hands. “Because I don’t want her. I want you.”
Heat flared in her eyes, but she turned away. “Look, I’m not a dating candidate. I’m also not a”—she made a wild gesture to him and the front door and back to herself again—“a whatever that was candidate either.”
Just like him, she was afraid. He was terrified of being burned again, but for some reason was unwilling to let this particular box of matches go. What was it she feared? “So, what makes you a bad dating candidate?”
“I’m gone. I’m leaving the country in two weeks.”
Alarm bells went off. But they were nothing compared to his utter disappointment. Still, he didn’t want a relationship, right? This should be great news. “Leaving for where?”
“First to Egypt, then, I don’t know. Anywhere but here. I’m going to travel for a month and see the world I’ve missed my whole life. After that, I have an internship in Cairo lined up that I hope turns into a permanent gig.”
“Okay, so that puts you out of the long-term dating column for sure, but what makes you think you aren’t a candidate for…” He mimicked her gesture of pointing to himself, the door, and back to her. “Because I’d really like to do a little…” And he made the same triangle gesture again.
She laughed at his silly pantomime, which made him grin. This girl was so open. No way was she double-crossing his company. Nobody was that good an actress.
He laid his hand over hers. “Again, I apologize for the misunderstanding at the restaurant.”
“Already forgotten,” she said. “I’d have gotten over it anyway. I’m not the jealous type.”
“You weren’t jealous of Sparkle Jeans?” He thought her name for Suzanne was hilarious.
Her brow furrowed and she cocked her head. “No. I was disappointed. It seems to me, a person can only be jealous if they have a claim on someone. I don’t date, so I have no claim on anyone—no jealousy.”
Totally surprised by this news, he lifted his hand from hers. “You don’t date?”
She grabbed a pillow from the corner of the sofa and hugged it to her. “Well, I have—I did—but it’s been almost a year. It was great at first, but when my grandma got really sick, we mainly hung out between classes. Eric and I got pretty close, but my obligation as a caretaker got in the way… That along with the fact that he was an asshole.”
The hackles on his neck bristled at the knowledge someone had hurt her. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not. I’m glad he’s gone.” She pitched the pillow back into the corner of the sofa. “When I got my master’s degree last May, I stopped going anywhere at all. I just sat here in Sissy’s house as a full-time caregiver.”
“Sissy?”
“Clarisse, my grandmother.”
Relief flooded through him in a warm wave. That explained not only her unfamiliarity with the bar, but why she lived at this prestigious address.
His eyes roved her body from her shiny blond hair to her chipped pink toenail polish. He wanted this woman. Wanted her so badly it hurt, and he was certain she felt the same way, but tonight wasn’t the night. It was too soon. He stood. “So, I’ll see you tomorrow, Miss Maddox?”
“It’s a date, Mr. Anderson.”
“I’d say I’m sorry I dropped in on you unexpectedly, but I’m not.” He walked to her door and patted it. “Nice door.”
As the elevator closed, he could still hear her laughter, and it made him feel like he was full of helium. Like he did in the old days before his life fell to shit.
Chapter Seven
Claire had changed into casual clothes—a simple skirt and a ruffled floral wraparound blouse—and had stowed her business clothes in a bag at her feet. She was worried that it was almost five o’clock, and she hadn’t seen Will at the office all day. She’d expected him to at least pop into the file room at lunch. Maybe he’d had second thoughts about taking her out tonight.
Nah. She didn’t get that vibe off him. He seemed for real.