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Matt looked over at her. She wasn’t at his side.
He looked back. She hadn’t just slowed down; she’d come to a dead stop in the middle of the path.
And she looked pissed. “Tell me what happened.”
“It was nothing.”
“Matt. Tell me. I can see it was no soccer game.”
He walked back to her and pulled her to the side of the path so others could run through. “Look, none of us wanted you to know. That group, Kenny and his crowd, the jocks that used to come by? They said some stuff we didn’t like. I admit I threw the first punch. But that was Logan’s fault.”
Sam’s brows turned downward and she started walking toward the exit. He just had room to be at her side.
“What did Logan do?” she asked.
“He told me to stand back so I wouldn’t get my ‘pretty face’ messed up. Of course I had to take the first shot. I got the shiner when I turned to flip Logan off and Kenny sucker punched me.”
Sam stopped again and stared at him, her expression completely neutral. Until she burst out laughing.
“Why is that funny?”
“I didn’t give a crap what those idiots said. I knew Kenny and his buddy Mark, and between them they couldn’t come up with a grammatically correct sentence. How they got into MIT is anyone’s guess.”
She shook her head. Then her red-tinged eyebrows came together again. “Although I might have been hurt if they’d said really ugly things. I was pretty naive at the time. So thank you for defending my honor. And quite literally taking it on the chin.”
He smiled, warmed by her thanks, her blush. The way the sun’s last rays made her hair shiny like copper and her face golden. He couldn’t help brushing a few strands of hair away from her eyes. “Anytime, Sammy.” He nodded to the exit, just a few feet away. They’d clocked only about four miles, which meant they had some time. “So, what do you say about dinner?”
“Later,” Sam said, not looking pleased. “Maybe.”
“Come on, Sammy. We can get some takeout on the next street. We could eat it in a cab to your place, and then I’ll take the cab back to the apartment.”
“Eat in the back of a cab? No, thank you.”
“Okay, we won’t eat it until we’re at your place.”
She sighed and led him out into the bustle of downtown Boston, where she didn’t stop until she hit the curb and raised her hand for a taxi.
“So,” he said. “You leave me no choice. I’ll have to call Clark to make sure you’re getting the kind of nutrition that’ll put a little meat on those bones.”
She brought her hand down and faced him. “Matthew. When I was a kid, you and the other guys were the best thing I could have asked for. What you three did for my annoying self was beyond wonderful. And you’re right. Back then I needed the nudge now and again. Okay, a lot. But I’m a grown woman now. I don’t need you or Clark or anyone telling me when I should eat. If I’m hungry, I get food. Yes, sometimes I forget or skip a meal—everyone does. But I’m healthy, I assure you. I can take care of myself. No one needs to tell me what to do. Understand?”
She turned and threw her right hand into the air again, and a cab pulled up within seconds.
“Yes. I understand. I’m sorry. I hadn’t meant any disrespect.”
“I know that, you idiot.” She went to the taxi door but didn’t open it. Yet.
“Old habit—you got me there,” he said. “That won’t happen again.”
“Thanks. But I really do have to work. I’ll grab something on the way—”
“Yeah, but—”
“What did I just tell you about me being a grown woman?” She opened the passenger door. “Tomorrow. We’ll have dinner tomorrow.” Then she grabbed his shirt, pulled him down a few inches and kissed him square on the mouth. It wasn’t a long kiss, and there was no tongue involved, but it shocked the shit out of him, and by the look on her face as she pulled back, her, too.
After clearing her throat, she darted into the taxi. But before the door slammed, she said, “Thank you for caring.”
Matt put his hand on the edge of the passenger door. He stared at her for a few seconds. “Now you’ve done it, kiddo. I will find a way to know this new, beautiful grown-up woman. You can count on it.” Then he stepped back to the curb and watched her taxi drive away until it became a blur among other yellow blurs.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” he said, then remembered he needed a ride home, too.
* * *
THE PICTURE ON Sam’s computer showed a 3-D bridge being built by a Swedish company she followed on Facebook. Their printer was several levels above her new baby. The bridge had thrilled her when she’d first set eyes on it yesterday, and she’d immediately thought of seven different things she could build. She’d have to get a different kind of 3-D printer, but that was okay. When it came to work, she had no hesitation in buying the latest and best equipment. It was also the time she was most grateful about her success. Well, buying fancy printers could never compete with the day she’d bought a house in Cape Cod for her parents. That had been sweet, especially because she’d been able to keep it a secret until the paperwork went through. Talk about a great surprise.
Kind of like the surprise on Matt’s face after she’d kissed him.
She’d kissed him.
Kissed Matt.
With her own lips. It wasn’t anything epic. Not a Titanic kiss or a Mr. Darcy kiss, but she’d kissed him!
What the hell had she been thinking?
It wasn’t even the kiss that was going to do her in, although she’d often thought that if she ever got the opportunity, she would literally die and go to heaven. But no. She was still here. Clark wasn’t, which was good. All she needed was to have Clark come back for something or other he’d forgotten. Pity he didn’t live farther away. When he caught her working late, he scolded her until she quit. Speaking of being scolded...
She’d said she was a grown-up. A woman to be reckoned with. That last part was implied. But it was all out there now.
A stand. That was what she’d taken. A STAND.
Which meant she had to start acting like a grown-up. Not just with Matt, either. She needed to dive into the role with her whole heart. Until even Clark understood he had no right to scold her for anything.
Oh, God.
It wasn’t just taking the stand or kissing Matt on the mouth that was going to cause havoc. She’d changed the ground rules. She’d never—
The broken record of her thoughts jumped to another track. The words he’d spoken at the end. Calling her “kiddo”—that was pretty clever. But his challenge? How could he possibly get to know the grown-up version of herself unless she was that person?
Maybe she’d—
The door opened. Clark. Of course. He frowned at her as he went to his desk. “Why are you wearing your running gear?”
She looked down in surprise, but yes, he was right. “I went running. I just got back a little while ago.”
“Okay,” he said, still glowering as if she’d stolen the Arkenstone. “And didn’t you say you were going to get some sleep?”
“Well, yes, Clark, I did. And I will. I mean, why does everyone want to tell me what to do? I’m fine. I’m great. Fit as a fiddle. I’m not a waif begging for a meal. I said I would get to sleep early and—”
“It’s eleven forty.”
Everything in her brain stopped with a screech. Eleven forty? Holy... “P.m.?”
“Yes, p.m.”
Sighing loudly, her head fell to her upraised hands. When the internal lashing ended, she said, “Why are you here so late?”
“I forgot my Deadpool comics for Jay.”
She nodded a little. Boys and their toys. Who was she to talk? She had the entire series of Buffy Dark Horse comics and far too many other collections. Graphic novels. Bobbleheads. Wonder Woman action figure. Lego sets from Star Wars and Star Trek. She moaned again and looked up, hoping Clark was gone, but no luck. He continued to scowl.
“You practicing for the Dour Looks Olympics? You can do better.”
“I’m just reminding you of the things you asked me to.”
“When I was a teenager. Maybe it’s time to stop. It’s been ten years, and you’ve been great at it, but maybe it’s time I take responsibility for my life.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
He thought about it for an achingly long time. But finally said, “Let’s go a week. Then revisit.”
She wanted to lay into him so bad, but she held back like an adult. Clark might have a point. She did miss a lot of meals when he was away. But that was then and this was Matt, so... “Fine. One week.”
How hard could it be?
5 (#ulink_ce890694-e5cf-5383-87db-9a43098ab26a)
SAM BRUSHED A hand down her dress one last time before she walked into Row 34. That Matt had made a reservation for the same day was impressive, but then, the Wilkinson name was a powerful thing in Boston. She had arrived early, as she’d planned, which would give her time to rehearse so she’d be ready when Matt arrived.
The gleaming restaurant was already packed. She scoped out the crowd as she followed the host, her way illuminated by a long row of low-hanging lights. The industrial-chic seafood place hadn’t changed much since the last time she’d been there, although the clientele seemed more upscale.
When she finally reached their table, Matt stood by his chair, smiling at her as if his early arrival hadn’t ruined her chance to prepare. Damn. She clutched her purse, feeling the two stacks of three-by-five-inch cards she’d painstakingly filled with alternative versions of the speech she planned to make. Version A was simple. A nice but firm message that while it was lovely to see him, she had to put work first, so this would be their only dinner, but before he left Boston, they could meet for a drink. Period. Version B, on the other hand, wasn’t simple at all.
She couldn’t resist Matt’s smile, and her heart couldn’t help jumping with a mixture of excitement and want whenever she was in his presence. If she’d thought he was her dream man when she was sixteen, he was proving to be even more tempting to her at twenty-nine. God, he looked mouthwatering in his linen shirt tucked into worn jeans, with a sports jacket that pulled it all together perfectly. Matt had style coming out the wazoo and she was so glad she’d found her wrap dress still in the dry-cleaner bag.
She thanked the host and took her seat. Pointing to the brochure that sat in the middle of the table, she said, “You brought that?”
“I did,” he said as he settled into his chair. “We’ll talk about it later, if that’s okay. First, you look beautiful. That’s a great dress.”
“Thanks,” she said, willing herself to take the compliment and not tell him anything about the dry cleaner. “I got it for a security conference. I had to make a presentation.”
“I bet you wowed them.”
“It was cool because I was talking to techheads. They got it. When I had to talk to the CEOs...that was tricky. They all got glassy-eyed and kept checking their watches. Interestingly, almost all of them committed to buying stuff when they clearly didn’t understand how it worked.”
“Men are such idiots,” Matt said.
Sam not only laughed but had an instant flashback to learning the art of dry humor from the man himself. Matt had been her gold standard, that by which she measured all humor. Except coding humor, which was always funny.
“It’s so good to hear you laugh. Laughter is like fingerprints, I think. No two people do it exactly the same.” He was quiet for a moment, took a sip of water, then met her gaze. “Although yours has matured,” he said, his voice low and thoughtful. “Like a fine wine.”
“Hmm,” she sniffed. “According to Clark, my whining has become my defining trait.”
Matt shook his head, his eyes on her the whole time. “I never remember you whining. The only thing you ever bitched about was gaming. Or comics. Never work. You loved solving problems.”
So why couldn’t she solve her Matt problem? Now that she was looking at him, it was doubly hard to execute plan A, which was also known as the Parachute Plan. The one that would eject her from the temptation and the turmoil, the nights of guilt-ridden masturbation.
At the mere thought, her cheeks felt hotter. She hid behind the menu, although she might have been too late. “Oh. They’ve changed the menu since I was here last. Did you see?”
“I’ve never been here. But— Never mind.”
She uncovered her face. “No. No fair. Finish.”
“Where’s the waiter? I want some of that concierge beer.”
“Tell me. I’ll just annoy you until you do.”
He laughed. “Good to know some things never change. Fine. I looked up the restaurant on Yelp. And TripAdvisor. And Facebook. And Chowhound.”
She didn’t want to laugh, but of course she did. “What did they say?”
“Eat here. Great oysters, great beer, great lobster roll.”
“And with the addition of their incredible onion rings, you’ve just described what I’m going to order.”
He smiled at her and covered her hand with his. She hadn’t realized that she was leaning forward. Not boobs-on-the-table forward, but enough. He had really nice hands. They were big, with long, strong fingers and neat cuticles. His hands looked much better than hers. But keeping manicures took time. Besides, she rarely had reason to give much of a damn about her appearance.
Not that he seemed to care about her nails. The way he was looking at her, his dark eyes somehow darker even though the lighting wasn’t that bright, plan B—where she had just enough sex with him to get him out of her system—was sounding better and better.
Their waiter, Xander, arrived. He called Matt “Mr. Wilkinson” and put bread and butter on the table before he told them the specials. In the end, the only difference between her order and Matt’s was beer. He wanted the pilsner; she wanted the lager. Of far more importance was the fact that he’d moved his hand from hers, and she wanted it back. Now.
Which was not good. Not good at all. She’d have to go with plan A if she was going to survive his visit. At least she’d still have her imagination and her vibrator.
Taking in a nice deep breath, she quoted verbatim from her first three-by-five card. “It’s been really good catching up with—”
“Hey, I forgot— Oh, sorry.” He nodded at her. “Go ahead.”
“That’s okay. You go.”
“We’re building a new hotel in London. A big one, with over a thousand rooms. There’s an existing hotel but we’re stripping it down to the foundation and starting over. It’s across the street from where they hold London Comic Con. I can’t be any help next year, but the year after that, I can hook you up with a suite and food, even a limo pickup from the airport. Anything you want.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. I thought of you when we were putting the deal together. Have you been?”
“To the London con? Yes. Two years ago. I was on a panel for the game I helped design. It’s all about lady dragons. Pretty awesome stuff. But yeah, it was fantastic. My only trip there and I didn’t get to see much of the city at all.”
