Nick turned to Sewanee as she turned to him, an expectant look in her eye. She didn’t know what to say first. She wanted to apologize for everything she’d said earlier. She wanted to relive every taste of the night. She wanted to cry over how happy her mother was. She wanted to thank him for being a perfect date tonight. She wanted to kiss him, Lord, did she want to kiss him. But before she could broach any of it, Nick deadpanned, “Well, thank God that’s over.”
She burst out laughing. “Insufferable. Have you ever met anyone more boring?”
“I was this close to pushing him over the side of the boat.”
“Ugh, and that food? It just kept coming and coming and coming.”
“And being forced to sit through some lame proposal? It was like we weren’t even there.”
“We should do something to celebrate it being over.”
“Amen.” Nick smiled down at her and her stomach flipped. “What should we do?”
“What do you want to do?”
“We could fight again?”
She chortled. “Pass.”
“Well, what then?”
She lifted a slinky shoulder. “I’m open.”
He cocked his jaw. “And I’m not touching that.”
“Yet.”
Nick chuckled softly, reached out and took her fingers, looked down at them. She felt herself being pulled closer to him, but couldn’t be sure the sensation was entirely physical. “Sewanee,” he sighed, looking up. “I so want to . . .” His eyes went dark. “You know exactly what I want.”
She thrilled at that. “Do I?” She hoped the coquettish tone covered any insecurity that might reside in the question. “You haven’t tried to make a move once.”
He entwined their fingers. “We’ve been a wee busy, haven’t we?” His face puckered. “Besides, what are you talking about–I proposed to you this morning!”
Sewanee raised a teasing brow. “Maybe I’ll take you down to City Hall, maybe, who knows, oh never mind, don’t listen to me, I’m jet-lagged? I’m positively aflutter. Downright twitterpated.”
“Fine, I could have polished it up a bit. But, in my defense, I didn’t know Stu was gonna upstage me!” They laughed and pulled closer together. “Rest assured,” he murmured, “I want a reprise of everything we had in Vegas. I want to push you up against a Venetian wall, a real one this time.”
“Is that a threat or a promise?”
Nick took a deep breath. “But.”
“Not another but,” Sewanee groaned.
He squeezed her hand. “But! Not tonight. Tonight, I’m going to make sure you get back safely to your place. Might even go so far as to get you ready for bed–”
“I’m already ready for bed,” she husked.
“Christ, this was already going to be hard and you’re determined to make it harder.”
“You mean your reaction?”
“Cute.”
She pushed into him, bringing them flush.
Nick bowed his body away from her, like a child trying to wriggle out of a car seat. “Buuut,” he huffed on a laugh. “I will be leaving you alone tonight. I have something to do.”
She leveled him a look. “No you’re not and yes, you do.”
“Yes I am and no, it’s not you.”
They stared at each other, eyes twinkling with challenge and mischief and longing. It occurred to her that, for the first time, she felt truly comfortable with him, even though her body was a live wire of need. How could he have this effect on her? How could he so thoroughly wind her up and simultaneously put her completely at ease? A dangerous combination, she thought.
“Well,” she said haughtily, “we’ll see what happens when we get to my hotel.”
“That we will.”
Sewanee took Nick’s hand and they began walking, the sound of their footsteps on the wooden pier filling the midnight mist.
Chapter Eighteen
“The Resolve”
SEWANEE STOOD IN FRONT OF THE ENTRANCE TO COSMO’S STUDIO gearing herself up to ring the buzzer.
She had a lot on her mind.
The dinner and conversation. Marilyn and Stu’s engagement. Her talk with her mom. The things she needed to change in herself if she wanted anything else to change. But all of that was overshadowed by the way the night had ended with Nick.
How? How had he walked her all the way to her pensione, and up to her room, and watched her undress–especially given how she’d undressed–and tucked her into bed, and then . . . left? Every step of their walk home she’d been thinking it was cute, how far he was taking this whole will-they-or-won’t-they thing. But then he did it. He . . . left! And still, she’d been sure she’d hear a knock on the door any minute later. Any couple of minutes. Any five minutes, ten, twenty minutes later.