Guilty Needs(30)

“Just making conversation. I don’t really remember ever seeing you hang out with a particular guy.” And he would have noticed, at least if it happened during their freshman year or even halfway through their sophomore year. Probably even beyond, because even though he stopped thinking about her like that, she had been his girl’s best friend. Most teens did double dates from time to time, but Bree hadn’t. Hell, come to think about it, he really couldn’t think of a single guy throughout high school that she’d really spoken to.

In college, she’d dated some. He could remember those guys. One had been a jackass and she’d dumped him after two dates. One had lasted a few months. During their senior year, the guy she had dated had actually lasted throughout the year. That one had seemed serious but then the guy had died.

“You don’t date much.”

It wasn’t a question and she didn’t treat it as one. A wry smile curled her lips and she lifted one shoulder carelessly. “I’m picky.”

“Picky about what?”

“The guys I date.”

“What are you so picky about?” Bracing his elbows on the table, he leaned forward. What made a woman so picky that she went on less than two or three dates a year? He knew she got asked out a lot—or at least it seemed a regular occurrence, from what he’d seen. No surprise. She was flat-out sexy, she was funny in a quiet, understated way and she was one of the kindest people he’d ever known.

“Maybe I just haven’t found what I’m looking for yet.”

“What are you looking for?”

She rolled her eyes. “Geez, Colby, what is this? Twenty questions? If a guy asks me out and I’m interested, I’ll go out with him. I’m usually just not interested.”

“You’re here with me.”

Her dark-gray eyes narrowed and she said acerbically, “So apparently, I’m not picky enough. I hadn’t realized I was going to get the Spanish Inquisition.”

He slid his hand across the table and took hers. Lacing their fingers together, he whispered, “If we’re doing an inquisition, does that mean I can get you on the rack later?”

Her eyes widened. A startled laugh escaped her and she clapped her free hand over her mouth, muffling the sound. “I don’t do racks on the first date.”

He was flirting with her. Okay, Bree wasn’t an idiot, but it took her a little while to actually realize the truth. Colby was actually flirting with her. Why the hell is that such a shock? He had his hand in your panties and his tongue halfway down your throat a couple of hours ago. He more or less said he wanted to sleep with you. Why shouldn’t he flirt?

Still—it was weird. Seriously weird.

And unsettling as hell. Not just because it felt like some bizarre fantasy come to life either. You and I both know we’ve gone past being just friends. Actually, she hadn’t let herself think along those lines, even after he’d kissed her outside the winery. She just wasn’t ready to let herself think about that, because Bree was a linear type of thinker. If she knew one thing was coming, she started to plan for what happened after.

Here, the “after” that seemed most likely was that Colby wasn’t seriously interested in her and once he got whatever this was out of his system, she’d go back to being a friend—probably not even that.

Definitely not something she was equipped for.

By the time the waiter brought the check, she felt as though she was going to splinter into a thousand pieces from the pressure. Trying to keep it light, trying not to let him see how he affected her, trying not to read too much into his casual, sexy flirtation.

The ride home was a little easier—not having to sit across from him, staring at the perfect face with his sexy mouth and those amber eyes, having to sit still while he looked at her with such heat that she could almost feel it stroking over her skin. He pulled into her driveway and she bent to get her purse from the floor. He was already halfway around the car and when she opened her door, he was there with his hand outstretched.

Tucking her hand into his arm, he guided her around the side of the house, instead of in. Bree lived in the house where she’d grown up, under the care of her aunt. When her aunt moved to Florida a few years after Bree graduated from college, she had bought the house and spent the past eight years working on it.

The backyard looked like something straight out of Extreme Home Makeover—an outdoor kitchen complete with a stone fire pit, a small swimming pool, water gardens, every last inch of ground perfectly landscaped. It was her pride and joy and normally, she loved being out here.

But for some reason, tonight, here in the darkness with Colby, it was unsettling, to say the least.

The neighborhood where she lived was an older one and the lots were huge. Tall privacy fences separated the yards and the vining plants that she had growing along the perimeter inside her yard only added to the sense of seclusion. He unlatched the gate and guided her inside with his hand resting low on her back.

“I think, if you want to tell me to go home, now’s going to be a good time.”

She glanced up at him. It was a full moon and the silvery light shown down on him, highlighting the planes and hollows of his face, revealing the heat in his eyes—a heat he’d made little attempt to disguise during the night. Her head was spinning. She could barely keep up with the changes in him, going from quiet, brooding widower to sexy, flirtatious charmer. None of it made sense and if she was smart, she’d tell him it was best to call it a night.