He picked up my hand and kissed the back of it. “I’d like to change that.”
I looked over at him, my mouth falling open. How was it possible he was so hot and so sweet at the same time? Didn’t one usually come at the expense of the other? I’d never met a guy who was so good at both. I’d dated hot guys who couldn’t spell monogamy, much less commit to it, and I’d met sweet guys who lacked the dirty mouth and sexual heat I wanted.
No wonder I was falling for him.
Don’t let me hit the ground, I thought, staring at our hands, which rested in his lap, fingers laced. Catch me. Please.
? ? ?
That night, after half a lemongrass martini gave me a little extra courage, I asked about his romantic history. I didn’t want to pry, but I couldn’t understand how any woman, career-minded or not, could abandon a guy like Levi—let alone her own son. I was devoted to my job too, but that was too steep a price for me to grasp.
“How long did you date Scotty’s mom?” I tried to sound casual, but my stomach was jumping.
“About six months before she got pregnant, so about two years all told.”
“Was that your longest relationship?”
He took a drink of his Manhattan and winked at me. “Is this an audition?”
Embarrassed, I dropped my eyes to my plate. “No, of course not. I’m just curious.”
“Jill, I’m teasing.” His fingertips touched my wrist; the shortening of my name squeezed my heart. “Yes, it was. Prior to meeting Tara, I had one relationship in college that lasted about eight months.”
“What happened to her?”
“She went home for the summer and got back together with her ex-boyfriend.”
“That stinks.”
He shrugged. “Actually, I didn’t much care. She was jealous and drove me crazy with her constant questions and accusations. And she was always begging me to tell her I loved her.”
“Ah.” I picked up my drink. “And did you?”
“Tell her? Yes.” He sighed and took another sip. “But I didn’t actually love her. And I’m such a bad liar, she probably knew it.”
“Why’d you tell her if it wasn’t true?”
“I was nineteen and had the emotional sensitivity of a rock; she was pretty and liked to have sex. I thought I should tell her what she wanted to hear, and didn’t think it mattered that much.” He winced, closing his eyes. “God, I was really an asshole. I’m an even bigger asshole for saying it out loud, aren’t I?”
“No judgies,” I said honestly, setting my glass down. “Who’s emotionally sensitive at nineteen, anyway? I certainly wasn’t.”
“Maybe not, but you were a hell of a lot of fun.” His twinkling eyes caught mine over the edge of his glass, and my panties melted a little.
Over sushi and crab rangoon we shared favorite memories from our childhoods, and I learned that Levi had grown up in a tight-knit family that believed in tough love, easy forgiveness, and speaking your mind.
“Sounds like my family,” I said. “There’s not much we hold back.”
“Sometimes I wish they would hold back a little,” he confessed. “I know they mean well, and I’m sure they’re all better parents than I am, but I’m doing the best I can. And I know Scotty better than they do.”
“You’re doing an amazing job.” I reached out and touched his sleeve. “I know you are.”
He gave me a smile that warmed my insides. “Thanks.”
“Are you nervous about tonight? About him being away from home, I mean?”
“Yes.” He took a deep breath. “But I’m not going to think about it too much. He seemed OK when I left, and I’ve been dreaming about this for a week.” He paused. “For eleven years, actually.”
“Ha!” I stuck a piece of sushi in my mouth. “Liar.”
“You’d know if I was lying. Believe me.” He picked up a crab rangoon. “So tell me about your family. I don’t even have to ask if you’re close to your sisters. What about your parents?”
“Yes. Everyone is disgustingly close, but like your family, we are very outspoken with each other and that can grate nerves. If I never hear ‘You work too much’ ever again, it’ll be too soon.”
He smiled. “I’ll try to remember that.”
Over sea bass and grilled tuna we shared firsts and favorites, and I learned that his first kiss had been at age fourteen (two years before mine), he lost his virginity at sixteen, (also two years ahead of me), and his favorite thing in the world was when his son rubbed his earlobe.
“That’s so cute,” I said. “Like a little sign.”
“It is cute. And I know he’s happy when he does it, which makes me feel so good.” He took a bite of tuna. “What about you? What makes you feel good?”
“Hmmm. I love laughing with my sisters. I love curling up with a good book and a glass of wine.” I leaned toward him and lowered my voice. “And I feel pretty damn good when I’m naked with you.”
He smiled and leaned in too. “Then you’re gonna feel fucking amazing all night long.”
Check, please.