Virtuous(37)

“I’m going to be really bummed if I offered you hot chocolate and I don’t have any,” he says as he roots through cabinets.

I spot the box of instant hot chocolate mix and reach over his head for it. When I start to lose my balance, he steadies me with his hands on my hips. That’s all it takes for my entire body to feel like it’s encountered a live wire. The current travels through me, waking up all the parts that make me a woman. “Here,” I say as I hand him the box.

“Thanks.” He seems reluctant to let me go, but he does so he can get mugs.

We sit at the bar, and he produces whipped cream that he applies to both mugs of steaming hot chocolate.

“You know what this needs?” He stands and goes back into the kitchen, returning with a bottle. “Bailey’s.” Holding up the bottle, he says, “Yes?”

“Sure. I’ll try a little.” After he pours the liquor into my mug, I take a sip and feel the warming burn of the Bailey’s deep inside. “That’s good.”

He tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear and traces my cheekbone with his finger. His touch starts an all-new burn inside me that has nothing to do with liquor or hot chocolate.

I glance at him. “You wanted to talk?”

Seeming reluctant, he drops his hand from my face and looks down at the floor.

I hold my breath, waiting to hear what he will say.

“I was convinced, by a friend, that there’s no place in my life for someone as sweet and lovely as you.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means,” he says with a deep sigh, “I’m an idiot because I let someone tell me this is a bad idea when every cell in my body is telling me you’re the best idea I’ve had in years. Perhaps the best idea ever.”

“Oh.” I don’t know what to say to that.

He takes my hand again, bringing it to his mouth and running his lips over my knuckles. “My life isn’t for everyone. You just got a small demonstration of how the paps camp outside my building hoping for a glimpse of me so they can sell a picture to a tabloid. They pursue me relentlessly.”

“And that’s why your friend doesn’t think it’s a good idea for you to see me?”

“That’s part of it.” He twirls his finger through the dollop of whipped cream in his mug. “The thing is, though, since Saturday, you’re all I think about. I’ve relived every second we spent together probably a hundred times since then.”

“So have I.”

“Yeah?” He looks so hopeful that I can’t help but smile.

“Yeah.”

“You’ve cast some sort of spell on me, haven’t you?”

“That’s it exactly. You’ve figured me out.”

“It’s the only possible explanation for the way my heart nearly jumped out of my chest when you texted me yesterday.”

“It did not.”

“Yes, it did.”

I focus on my drink because I don’t know where else to look. His confession has me reeling.

“Natalie… Look at me.”

I summon the courage to let my gaze meet his, and I’m astounded by what I see—affection, amusement, desire.

“You’re very satisfied in your life. You love your job, your kids, your roommate and your new life in the city. If you get involved with me, your life will change in ways you can’t imagine.”

“What sort of ways?” I ask, genuinely curious.

“For one thing, the paparazzi will stalk you, and when I say stalk you, I mean they will be relentless. They’ll take photos and print lies about you. They’ll tear apart your clothes, your hair, your past.”

I take a sip of my drink, and we both notice the tremble of my hand. My past is buried so deep, it’ll never be uncovered, but that doesn’t mean the thought of being pursued doesn’t terrify me, because it does. I didn’t do anything wrong in that situation, so it’s not like I have something to be ashamed of. But I’m ashamed nonetheless, and I’d hate for him or any of my other new friends to know about my past.

“What else?” I ask.

“That’s not enough to scare you away?”

“I’d like to have all the information before I decide.”

He tips his head again, something I’m coming to recognize as one of his charming characteristics. It conveys interest and a sense that I’m the only person in his universe, even when I know that’s so far from true. “There’re women who will say things, do things, infer things… You’ll always be wondering. Is what he says true? Is he leading me on? Is he lying? She has pictures… She must know something I don’t know.”