International Player(29)
“Can you make it?” I asked.
“Sure. It’s Saturday night—not like I have anything better to do.” The rustle of fabric filled the silence. “Can you make it?”
“Yeah, I can make it.” I wasn’t sure there was anything better to do than have dinner with old friends. And Truly. “We can go straight after this.”
Truly appeared in the door to the changing room. “Does this say winter ball to you?”
I swallowed, glancing down from her neckline where her breasts threatened to spill over the top of the navy-blue velvet. The bodice was fitted, and made it look as if I could wrap my hands around her waist. Because I couldn’t form the words to tell her how incredible she looked, or how I wanted to push her back into the changing room, burrow under her skirt, and taste her, I just nodded.
“You hate it?” she asked, disappointment heavy on her face.
I shook my head. “I think it’s perfect.” I wasn’t sure if I was talking about the outfit or her.
A smile crept over her face. “Really?”
“You know it.”
She leaned forward, peering left as if to check if anyone was around. Natalie was at the other end of the store looking at accessories. “It’s not easy to get in and out of.”
I slid my phone onto the table in front of me and stood. “You need a hand?” I asked, my heart pounding.
She paused and our eyes locked. “Just with the zip.”
I nodded and stalked toward her as she backed up into the changing room.
She turned and swept her hair up so I could reach the fastening.
I inched it down as slow as I could stand, tracing my finger above the seam, then down as the fabric revealed the smooth skin of her back. All I could hear was the heavy thud of my heart against my ribcage and the way she tried to keep her breathing even. When she tilted her head to one side and let out a little sigh, I couldn’t resist pressing a kiss against the curve of her neck.
The zip undone, I slid my hands around her waist and held her, wanting to stay as we were for just a few minutes.
“How was that?” Natalie called.
I released Truly and stepped back as she shooed me out of the room. “It’s hard to get in and out of,” she replied. “But I kind of love it.”
I grinned. I kinda loved that dress, too.
As Truly changed into the next outfit, I got to my feet and pulled Natalie aside. “Can you put the jumpsuit on my account and have it delivered to me?” I knew Truly would never spend the money herself if she couldn’t wear it to work. But even if she never wore it, Truly should own that jumpsuit. And she should wear it. For cocktails. Or dates.
With me.
Fifteen
Truly
As I waited at the red lights, I skirted my fingers across my neck where Noah had kissed me, remembering how he’d taken such an excruciatingly long time to unzip my dress. It was as if he’d been savoring every moment we were so close.
I’d expected last night’s tequila-induced kissing to be easy to sweep under the carpet. But as soon as I’d seen Noah this afternoon, all the feelings I’d been trying to push down had risen to the surface. It was becoming more and more difficult to pretend they weren’t there. Lying to myself wasn’t working. Then the way he’d looked at me, the way he’d touched me? He was shooting holes in every defense I had. I was supposed to be being sensible. Keeping my distance.
A car honked and I moved forward, then around the corner. We’d traveled to the stylist separately. It gave me some time to breathe. But I still didn’t have any answers. Just a few seconds later I was pulling in to Rob and Abigail’s drive about to face him again.
Noah’s car was already there. No surprise, as I’d stopped for wine for the three of us and macarons for my sister.
I knocked and let myself in.
“Just turn it slightly,” I heard Rob say, his voice strained.
“It’s only me.” I started up the stairs and came face-to-face with Noah’s broad back and perfect arse.
“You need to shift it to you,” Noah said.
“Why are you guys moving furniture?” I asked.
“We need to make our bedroom more social,” Rob replied. “The sofa from the study will fit and give people somewhere comfortable to sit”—he heaved as they came to another tricky maneuver at the top of the stairs—“when they come visit,” he finished as Noah reached the top step.
“I’ll go and get some glasses,” I said.
“Bring a bottle of that pinot noir that Noah brought. It’s in the wine fridge.”
I padded down the stairs, stuck the considerably cheaper bottle that I’d brought with me in the wine fridge and took out one of the ones I recognized from lunch a couple of weeks ago. I stuck the box of macarons under my arm, forked my fingers through the glasses, and scooped up the wine.
“Do you need a hand?” Rob called from upstairs.
“No, I’m on my way.”
As I reached the doorway to Rob and Abigail’s bedroom, I paused, watching the three of them chat. This was all so familiar. So comfortable and one of the many reasons why Noah and I shouldn’t have kissed last night. In the completely impossible scenario that we started dating, what happened when it was over? I might be able to imagine us growing old and gray together, but that wasn’t the way Noah operated. He’d soon get bored, end things, and then evenings like this wouldn’t ever happen. I’d avoid lunch. He’d make excuses for not coming over for drinks. And I’d lose him as a friend. It wasn’t worth it.