“Oh yes,” Brooke said.
Heather cracked up. “Oh man. You are about two seconds away from purring.”
Brooke felt her cheeks coloring and looked down at her plate. “It was, um . . . it was good.”
“So why are you limiting it to one night?” Heather asked, taking a sip of her drink.
“One night of casual naked time is one thing, but multiple nights of naked time . . . that gets dangerous, you know?”
“Dangerous?”
“You know, with the whole heart and head getting involved with what was supposed to be the body’s domain.”
Heather bit her lip and leaned forward. “Okay, can I confess something?”
“Always.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Brooke blinked. “How do you mean?”
“I’ve never been in love,” Heather said with a touch of irritability about the whole thing that was downright adorable.
“Never?”
“Nope.” Heather took a moody bite of her sandwich. “I’ve had crushes. Even a couple of boyfriends who lasted a few months. But with every single one, I went into it eyes wide open, knowing that it would never turn into anything more than what it was. Sex. Companionship. Whatever.”
“Trust me, love can be overrated,” Brooke grumbled.
Heather tucked a curl behind her ear, but it popped right back out again. “You’re talking about Clay?”
Brooke nodded. “They want my dad to testify at his trial.”
“Oh God.” Heather’s eyes widened sympathetically. “But they don’t want you to, right?”
“Not yet,” Brooke said. “I’d probably be pretty useless. I was such an idiot, I didn’t see any of the warning signs. I knew nothing about all his illegal crap until that day when they arrested him.”
“I hate that that happened to you, Brooke.”
Brooke forced a smile. “Me too. I’ve been trying so hard to put it behind me, to stop myself from feeling like a victim, but it’s so much harder than I thought it would be.”
“Because a person you cared about—the life you wanted—was ripped away. Getting past that is going to take time.”
“I know.” Brooke scratched at her neck, feeling suddenly restless in her skin. “Exactly. Which is why . . .”
“Which is why you’re so confused by how much you like Seth Tyler?” Heather finished for her gently.
“Yes,” Brooke breathed out, pushing her plate away. “I thought sleeping with him would help, you know? But instead . . .”
“Instead you want more.”
“I don’t know.” Brooke put her elbows on the table, resting her fingertips to her temples. “Yes. Maybe. I said these horrible things to him, and I don’t even know why.”
“Sure you do,” Heather said with a shrug. “You tried to build walls around yourself by swiping at him.”
Brooke eyed the other woman suspiciously. “You’re pretty damn wise for someone who’s never been in love.”
“I know, right?” Heather said, taking another bite of her sandwich. “But seriously, it’s okay to make mistakes here. I’m guessing he hasn’t been handling things very well himself.”
“Definitely not,” Brooke grumbled.
She hadn’t heard from him at all since she’d stormed out that morning. Not that she was surprised. And it was no less than she deserved—she’d been a fool to think she could get Seth Tyler out of her system with one night of passion, and clearly he was grappling with the same demon.
But he’d just been so damn inaccessible. And even that would have been fine if he’d just shown her to the door, but he’d ordered her breakfast. And yes, she’d freaked out. Stupidly, admittedly.
But then he’d turned into such an ass that she couldn’t figure out what the hell he wanted. To have breakfast with her or push her away?
Really, she could kill her boss for not explaining this uncomplicated-sex thing in more detail.
And more important, what did Brooke want? Did she want more than just a one-night stand, even if it meant risking things ending badly and ruining her first big professional break? Was any man worth possibly sacrificing a career opportunity for—even one with a touch that set her skin on fire?
“Any advice?” Brooke asked hopefully.
“Well,” Heather said, licking a bit of grease off her thumb. “I’m no expert, obviously, but I’d say that this has less to do with romance nuance and everything to do with basic human interaction.”
“Translate.”
Heather gave her a sympathetic look. “I think you need to apologize. If for nothing else than for the sake of your conscience. And then you can either move on. Or move forward.”
“But which one?” Brooke begged.
“No idea.” Heather dabbed at her chin with the paper napkin. “But either way, might I suggest a sexy dress to help the apology go down easier?”
Chapter Twenty-Two