The Trouble With Love(56)

Emma had been counting on the blast of cold air to jar her back to her senses. Had counted on the inevitable strange food smells one frequently found in New York taxis to cool her ardor.

But it was impossible to think of anything but the man beside her. The man whose tux jacket smelled like him. Spicy and sexy and Cassidy.

She turned her head just slightly under the guise of looking at Central Park, but mostly she just wanted to inhale his scent.

When she turned her head back to face the front, she saw out of the corner of her eye that he was smiling.

He knew what she was up to. But Emma couldn’t be bothered to be embarrassed. She was too fuzzy from champagne, too giddy after seeing her dearest friends tie the knot.

Tonight wasn’t about the regrets and what hadn’t happened between Emma and Cassidy.

Tonight was about romance….

And maybe something else she wasn’t ready to name.

The cab pulled up outside their building. Cassidy paid the fare then helped Emma out of the cab.

When she placed her hand in his, it was the first time they’d touched since leaving the dance floor, and Emma tried to ignore the flutter his touch caused.

He released her hand almost immediately, and she told herself she was glad.

Save for a thank-you to the doorman who held the door for them, neither of them spoke as they waited for the elevator. Nor as they rode the elevator up to their floor.

Emma’s heart was now pounding so loudly she was sure he could hear it, but what she wasn’t sure about was whether he wanted her the way she wanted him.

Maybe even guys could get swept up in the romance of a wedding. Maybe the moment on the dance floor had been a fluke.

But one thing was certain: Emma was not going to set herself up for rejection. Generally, she wasn’t opposed to making the first move, but not with Alex Cassidy. She’d taken a risk on him once.

And it had broken her.

They came to his door first, and he stopped.

So did Emma’s heart.

He pulled his key fob out of his pocket, jostling it in his hand as he watched her, his expression unreadable.

She faced him, her stomach fluttering with the realization that he was unsure, too, trying to decide whether to make a move.

Make it, she silently begged. Kiss me.

He didn’t.

And then Emma had a humiliating realization.

He wasn’t waiting to make a move.

He was waiting for his jacket.

Oh my God.

Her cheeks burning, she shrugged out of his tux jacket as quickly as possible, all but thrusting it at him, with a fake smile pasted on her face. “Here you go! Thanks for that. I wasn’t counting on it being so cold, although I don’t know why, since it’s November….”

Shut it, Emma. You’ve never been a babbler. Don’t start now.

He hesitated only briefly before reaching out a hand and accepting the jacket.

She managed to shut up, but she couldn’t quite wipe the stupid goofy smile off her face without worrying that she would break into tears. Emma fumbled only slightly with her clutch, hoping he would chalk it up to the champagne and not her embarrassment at so terribly misreading the situation.

All he’d wanted was a harmless dance—a peace offering for the sake of old times.

And she’d been ready for…well, a whole different kind of dance entirely.

“Good night,” she said, once her fingers closed on her keys. One step closer to safety.

“Good night,” he said, watching her.

And that was that.

This is what came of three years of dating, an aborted wedding, seven years of cold war, and one very sexy dance.

Two near strangers staring at each other and exchanging good nights in the hallway.

She’d had more animated partings with her pizza guy.

Emma turned, lifting the electronic fob that worked as a key in this fancy building, to unlock her door.

Cassidy’s fingers closed around her wrist, and her eyes flew to his. He searched her face before wordlessly pulling her in the opposite direction toward his apartment.

She followed, watching as he unlocked his door. He let go of her wrist then, even as he stepped inside, and she knew what he was doing.

He was giving her a choice.

But she’d never really had a choice. Not when he’d offered his hand to her on the dance floor. And not now.

She dropped her key back into her clutch, and then she stepped toward his door.

Stepped toward him.

Emma held his eyes and walked into the apartment, not quite touching him. Cassidy slowly closed the door, perhaps to give her time to change her mind, but Emma didn’t.

She set her clutch on the small console table, and took a deep breath. “I need to take off my shoes. My feet can’t take another second—”

Cassidy kissed her.

No preliminaries, no hesitation—he just stepped closer and dipped his head down to hers, stamping her mouth as though it were his to take.

Seven years.

It had been seven years since she’d kissed this man, but her lips hadn’t forgotten him. The moment she responded, he lifted his hands to her hips, tentatively. And when her hands settled against his chest, his grew bolder, sliding around to her back, pulling her closer until they were touching, chest to chest, hip to hip.

His lips nudged hers open, and Emma responded by reaching for his tongue with hers.