Sinful Love (Sinful Nights #4)(5)

He shrugged. “That was high school. I was just messing around in the garage with friends. I don’t play much anymore.”

“What happened to going to Seattle and becoming the next Eddie Vedder?” she asked, then her stomach dropped. “Merde. I’m sorry,” she said, heat flaming across her cheeks. How could she have been so foolish? She knew the answer. She brought her hand to her face, embarrassed, and lowered her chin.

His hand touched hers. Her breath caught the instant he made contact. “It’s okay. It was just a teenage dream.”

Just a teenage dream. They’d had so many. They’d felt so real at the time.

“We had a lot of those,” she said, softly.

“We did.” He looked away. His jaw was set hard, but when he returned his gaze to her, he simply said, “I barely think about all those crazy dreams. I like my life now. I like running the security business. That’s why I work on a Sunday. Speaking of work, how long are you in town for?”

“A few days,” she said, and her voice rose higher, as it did when she was nervous. Because the first thing she’d thought when she landed this assignment was—Michael. Like a big, blaring sign. Like a flashing light at the end of a road. She had to see him, had to find him, had to connect with him. “I’m glad you’re happy now…Michael Sloan.” She paused, his new last name rolling around strangely on her tongue. “I’m trying to get used to it. Sloan.”

“Took me a while, too.”

“When did you change it?”

His eyes darkened. She’d touched a nerve. “Ten years ago,” he said, his tone gruff.

The journalist in her didn’t want to back down. “After I saw you in Marseilles?” she asked, nerves tightening her throat as she mentioned that day. That wonderful, horrible day.

He stared up at the ceiling, his brow knit together. “I suppose that’d be about right. But that wasn’t the reason,” he added.

“Why, then?” she pressed. “It made it harder to find you. I had to ask Becky.”

He heaved a sigh. “Made it easier for me to live.”

Unsure how to respond, she swallowed, then reached for her cup. Her fingers felt slippery. She gripped the ceramic more tightly as she brought it to her lips and took a sip.

He rubbed a hand across his jawline, silence sneaking between them, but not for long. “Tell me. Why did you look me up?”

“Because I was coming to town,” she said, stating the simplest answer first, avoiding the tougher topic.

He stared at her, his blue eyes hooked into hers, telling her he didn’t buy it.

“Because I was seeing Sanders and Becky,” she said, mentioning her host family from when she was an exchange student.

“Did you see them?”

“I’m going to. Tomorrow.”

“So then this,” he said, pointing from her to him, “This is…?”

She looked at his mouth, blinked her eyes back up to his, and dropped her voice even more. They were surrounded by noise, the clink of silverware, the slip of ice cubes against glass, and the chatter of nearby patrons ordering smoked salmon and vodka samplers. She spoke the truest words. “This is because I wanted to.”

*

There were things he wanted, as well. More time with her. More talking. Mostly, he didn’t want for this to end. She was like sugary sand crystals in his hand, slipping through. He wanted to clutch his fist closed, hold them tight for just a few more moments. A few more days.

He went for it. “What are you doing tonight?”





CHAPTER THREE


The dealer slapped a card on the table.

“Wait. I want to write this down.” Mindy shook her head in amusement as she reached for the card. “I want to record this moment. You, asking me for dating advice.”

Michael narrowed his eyes. “I know how to date,” he grumbled.

She held up a finger. “Correction. You know how to date women you just met. You don’t know how to date the woman you were—”

“Do I see if she wants to meet for a drink?”

He cut her off because he didn’t want the reminder. He knew how he felt.

As Mindy checked out her cards at the poker table at the Luxe, her favorite gambling spot, she said, “Yes, you want to have a drink with her, because you definitely need some lubricant.”

He laughed. Mindy was unfiltered, and that was one of the reasons he enjoyed their friendship. The woman didn’t mince words. “Noted. Use liquor for lube. Any other advice?”

She slid some chips to the center of the green felt, staying in. “Yes. You used to like music? Went to concerts together, right?”

He nodded. “Yeah, we did. Lots of local and indie bands. That was one of our things.”

She shrugged, as if to say duh. “There you go. Brent said there’s some new band at his nightclub tonight. A hot young indie-rock band. Take her to that. It’ll be like old times.”

“Is that what I want? Old times?”

“Yes. That’s what you want,” she said as she set down her cards, winning the hand with a trio of sixes.

“Nice,” he said, with a low whistle of admiration.

She dragged a handful of chips closer. “So what was it like? Seeing her?”