by Sarah Morgan
“I’m not—” She felt his thumb brush her lower lip and stopped breathing altogether. “Okay, now you’re definitely too close. You have to let me breathe. What the hell are you doing?” And then it came to her. The answer. “You’re doing this because I’m a challenge.”
His thumb stilled. “What?”
“I’m a challenge. That’s why you’re interested.”
“Frankie—”
“Men love a challenge, don’t they? Particularly when it comes to dating. You’re thinking, hey, I know she’s not great at this but I can be the one to transform her.”
“That is so messed up I don’t know where to start.”
“You don’t start. You give up and we pretend this never happened. I forget it, you forget it, we all forget it. I am messed up, like Claws. You need to stay away from me.” Why couldn’t she stop talking? It was as if every thought she’d ever had was determined to find its way out of her mouth.
“You’re nothing like Claws. I don’t want to transform you, Frankie. I’m interested in you, not some fake version of you.” His mouth was still dangerously close to hers. “I like who you are. I’ve always liked who you are.”
“You don’t know who I am. Not really.”
“I know you’re a smart, creative, incredibly sexy woman. And I also know you have a few relationship issues.”
A few?
“I have more than a few relationship issues. If you piled them up, North America would have a new mountain range. I would dwarf the Rockies. You have no idea.”
“I do.” He paused. “You’re not your mother, Frankie.”
Even the mention of her mother made her want to crawl under a stone. “I know. I’ve worked hard to make sure I’m not.”
“Maybe you’ve worked a little too hard.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“That you’ve focused so hard on not being her, you don’t know how to be yourself.”
“That’s crap. Matt, I don’t want to dent your ego but I just don’t find you attractive.”
“I know you find me attractive.”
“That’s arrogant.” She met the amused shimmer of his gaze.
“You’ve been looking at me.” He slid his hand into the heavy mass of her hair, drawing it away from her neck. “And the reason I know that is because I’ve been looking at you, too. And I think it’s time we did more than look.”
Excitement and nerves mingled together in a suffocating cloud.
Oh crappity crap, crap, crap.
She had no idea what to do. No idea how she was supposed to respond.
She was an expert at keeping men at a distance.
She had no experience in letting men close.
She didn’t know how to do that.
Matt was an important part of her life. Letting him close would ruin everything they’d built over the years. Part of her badly wanted to do it, anyway. Part of her wanted to find out where this dizzying excitement ended. One kiss should do it. One kiss would be enough to kill it all.
Beads of sweat clung to her forehead. She felt as if she was caught in a riptide, pulling her far out to sea, away from the safety of the shore.
What had she learned in the swimming lessons she’d had when she’d been growing up on Puffin Island? She’d learned that the best way to deal with a riptide was not to try and swim against it. You swam with the tide then gradually peeled off and swam back to the safety of the shore.
“You’re a really sexy guy, Matt. A million women would be interested in you. You don’t need me.”
“Have dinner with me tonight.”
Was he even listening to her? “Thanks, but no. Having dinner would complicate everything.”
“We have dinner together almost every Friday.”
“Today is Monday.” If she grabbed him now and kissed him, it would all be over.
She lifted her hand and then let it drop again. She couldn’t do it.
His brows rose. “The night of the week makes a difference?”
“No. The fact that we’d be on our own makes a difference. It would make it more like a date.”
“It wouldn’t be like a date,” he said slowly, “it would be a date. That’s what this is. A date. I’m asking you to have dinner with me. Just the two of us.”
“And I’m saying no.”
“So let me get this straight. You don’t mind having dinner with me when it’s not a date, but when it’s a date, you’re not interested.”
“That’s right.”
“Do you know how crazy that sounds?”
“About as crazy as thinking we could have an intimate relationship and stay friends.”
“Frankie, we’ve known each other for more than twenty years.” He was patient. “Nothing is going to stop us being friends.”
“I will not go on a date with you, Matt.”
“Why not?”
“We could start with the fact that when it ends I could lose my home.”
“When the date ends?”
“When the relationship ends. Because we both know that’s what we’re talking about here. When men talk about dinner, what they really mean is sex. We’ll have dinner and then you’ll want to end up in bed and that’s where it will all fall apart.”
He looked dazed, as if he’d been hit around the head with a heavy object. “Frankie—”
“Let’s just forget we ever had this conversation.”
“So you won’t have dinner with me because you think dinner might lead to sex, which would lead to a relationship, which would end.” He said it slowly, as if he was trying to make sense of it.
“That’s right.” Her stress levels were in the red so she was relieved that finally he seemed to understand. “Now can we—”
“Not every relationship ends, Frankie, and even if it did I can one hundred percent guarantee that your home and your security would never be affected by anything that happened between the two of us.” He jammed his fingers into his hair. “I sound like a mortgage broker.”
“You’d have sex with me, you’d give me a D minus with nothing for effort, then it would be awkward and I’d have to move.” The words fell out of her mouth without her permission and she froze in mortified horror.
Had she really just said that? Normally her problem was opening up to guys, not closing herself down. The last person she’d dated had said that getting personal information from her was like trying to break into a vault, and yet here she was gushing like a waterfall after heavy rain, spilling secrets she’d never shared with anyone.
Maybe he hadn’t heard her.
Please don’t let him have heard me.
His stunned silence told her that her prayers were going unanswered.
She stared at the floor, appalled. Her face was hot, and the heat had nothing to do with the weather.
How did she dig her way out of this one?
She’d ignore it and hope he would ignore it, too.
“I love my home and I don’t want to move,” she said quickly. “So there’s no way I would have sex with you, which means dinner is also out of the question.”
“Who told you that you were a D minus?”
Oh God.
She wanted to die. Really fast. Right now.
“Forget it. It’s not—”
“Tell me.”
“I don’t want to talk about it! Let’s just say I wasn’t top of the class. I bet you’d score straight As, so let’s just forget it and move on.” Could it get any worse? Her relationship with Matt was turning into the dance of the seven veils. Piece by piece, he was exposing her. First the glasses and now this. Soon she’d have nothing left to hide. She felt emotionally naked. “I don’t want to talk about it, but believe me when I say you don’t want to have sex with me. I’m flattered that you find me attractive, but the truth is that sex really isn’t my thing.”
“What do you mean, it’s not your thing?”
Did the guy never stop asking questions? “People are good a
t different things, aren’t they?” Her voice rose. “I’m brilliant with plants. Recognizing them, growing them, arranging them—all of it. I can cook well enough not to poison myself, I know enough about technology to fix my own laptop when it crashes and I’m a pretty good friend. Sex, I’m not good at.”
“Is that what he told you? The D minus guy?” His tone was grim. “If you feel as if you’re being graded then it’s no wonder you’re stressed about sex. It’s supposed to be about pleasure, not pressure.”
“Yeah, well, there you go.” She puffed her hair out of her eyes. “For me, it’s all pressure and no pleasure. And if the whole performance scoring isn’t enough, there’s the issue of the apartment.”
“Will you forget the damn apartment for five minutes?”
“No, I won’t! It’s my home. Do you have any idea how much I love living there?”
“I know how much you love it, Frankie.” He pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose and breathed deeply. “No one is ever going to make you leave the apartment. It’s yours for as long as you want it, so can we separate that from this conversation?”
It seemed as if the only way to make him understand was to be blunt, which also required humiliating herself. “I won’t have sex with you, Matt. I’m not that into it. I’m not surprised he gave me that grade. And I’m not good with all the feeling, emotional stuff that goes with relationships. Unlike Eva, I’m not a feeling person. Now, can we move on? I really don’t want to talk about this any longer, and if you’re any sort of friend you’ll move to one side and pretend this conversation never happened.”
“The conversation where I asked you to have dinner with me and you somehow turned that into having really bad sex and losing your apartment?” There was a gleam in his eyes. “That sounds like a hell of an evening. I’m not surprised you said no.”
“Good. So in that case—”
“I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“What? I thought you agreed—”
“I agreed that the date you described sounds less than appealing, but that’s not the evening we’ll be having. Do I find you attractive? Yes. Would I like to have sex with you? Yes to that, too. Am I inviting you to dinner but secretly intending that dinner turns into sex? No, because I’m not fifteen, Frankie. Believe it or not, I’m capable of thought and actions that aren’t driven by my hormones and I can go on a date with a woman without having to sleep with her.”
“I don’t want to go on a date. Don’t use that word.”
“Fine. It’s not a date, it’s dinner with a friend.” He stepped back from her. “I’ll see you at seven.”
Dinner with a friend? She gaped at him. “Well, I—”
But she was talking to herself because he’d gone.
Chapter Seven
One person’s danger is another person’s good time.
—Eva
“So you’re having dinner,” Eva said carefully, “but it’s not a date.”
“That’s right. I tried to put him off but it didn’t work and now I’m stuck. I should have just kissed him! That would have sent him running.” Frankie threw all her clothes on the bed. She was shivery with nerves. She hadn’t eaten a thing since breakfast. Which was ridiculous, because this was Matt. Matt, whom she’d known forever. Except the version of Matt she’d known forever wasn’t the one who had been looking down at her with those lazy blue eyes and that sexy smile. “What do I wear? You know about this stuff. It’s your superpower.”
“I need more information. If it’s not a date, what is it?”
“I don’t know! We both need to eat, that’s all.” Except that she wasn’t sure she’d be able to eat anything at all. Her stomach was so full of butterflies there was no room for anything else. “Can’t two people have dinner without dissecting meaning and motivation?”
“Of course they can,” Eva soothed. “We’ll call it a—nondate.”
A nondate.
Frankie stared at the clothes on her bed in despair. “I want to look good. I don’t want to embarrass him. But it’s important that I send out the right message.”
“What message is that? I’m confused.”
She was confused, too. “That we’re just friends. This isn’t a relationship or anything.”
“You and Matt already have a relationship. A lovely relationship.”
“We do.” Frankie’s knees were shaking and she gave up and sat down on the bed. She was terrified, but underneath the panic was a ripple of something else. Something more dangerous. Excitement. Anticipation. Matt. “We do have a good relationship, so why are we messing with that? What are we doing?” She gave a moan and sank back into the pile of clothes. “You have to tell him I’m sick.”
“I’m not telling him that. Get up. I can’t see your clothes if you’re lying on them.” Eva dragged her up again.
“I don’t own anything suitable. I spend my days wrestling with rosebushes. When I see clients I wear my white shirt and my black pants. I spend my evenings in sweats and a T-shirt.”
“We already know he likes you in those. He likes you whatever you’re wearing.”
She knew that was true. She’d seen the way he looked at her. And the way he looked at her made her feel … feel …
“I can’t wear sweats and a T-shirt to dinner.”
“Where is he taking you?”
“I don’t know. He didn’t tell me.” Or maybe he had and she’d blocked it out. She’d heard nothing after the words I’ll see you at seven. She’d tried to tell him that no, that wasn’t going to happen, but by the time she’d found her voice he’d already walked away, and then James had arrived to pick up another load of materials and after that there was no opportunity.
“It’s not helpful that he didn’t tell you,” Eva said. “If you’ve been asked on a date then it’s only fair to know what to expect.” She caught Frankie’s eye and gave a weak smile. “Except that this isn’t a date, so those rules don’t apply. Wear anything.”
“What does anything look like? This is why I hate dating. If it was just a couple of hours I could stand it, but the stress starts hours before the actual date.”
“Calm down. This is Matt. You don’t need to be scared—”
“I am scared! Everyone is scared of something, right? Heights? No problem. Dangle me off the edge of the Empire State Building and I wouldn’t break off the conversation. Rats? Cute, especially their tails. Spiders? Hand me a large hairy one and I’d be totally cool.”
Eva paled. “Do you honestly think I’d hand you a spider of any sort?”
“Figure of speech. I was talking about me. My phobias. It’s dating, by the way. That’s my phobia.”
“That’s because you’ve only dated losers, but Matt is different. You need to calm down or you’ll be in a state by the time you leave.”
It was because Matt was different that she was in a state. “I don’t know what to wear.”
“Wear a dress.”
“I don’t own a dress of any sort. I haven’t worn one since that arrogant ball-brain put his hand up my skirt at prom. He said, ‘It’s time you lost your virginity,’ and I said, ‘I feel the same way about your hand.’ They had to ice his wrist.”
“I know. I was there. And that whole incident was hideous, but it was a long time ago, Frankie.”
“He was the beginning of a long line of dating disasters.” She stood up, knowing she was being unfair. She was expecting her friend to understand, but she hadn’t given her all the information, had she? She’d never told her about the D minus. She’d never told anyone. Except Matt.
Matt knew.
She gave a moan and covered her face with her hands. “Why don’t you go instead of me?”
“Because Matt didn’t ask me, and also I’m busy tonight.”
“What are you doing?”
“I’m having a cozy night in on my own.” Eva’s tone was bright and Frankie looked at her, her own problems receding.
“Paige is out with Jake?”
“Liar.”
“Okay, maybe I’m not exactly looking forward to it but it’s good for me to get used to being on my own.”
Frankie felt something squeeze inside her. “Are you feeling sad?”
Eva gave a wobbly smile. “Every now and then, but I’m doing fine so you don’t need to worry.”
“You should go out with Matt. That way I don’t get the stress and you don’t have to sit on your own brooding. It’s the perfect solution.”
“It’s not the perfect solution. He asked you, not me.”
“You two would be perfect together. Him with all his strong family values and you with the whole Cinderella thing.”
“What Cinderella thing? You want me to wear rags and clean his apartment?”
“No, but you both believe in love. You’d be a perfect couple.”
“Except for one major drawback—I’m not interested in Matt that way, and Matt isn’t interested in me. He’s interested in you.” Eva turned back to the clothes, rejecting two pairs of black yoga pants. “I agree these are slim pickings. Are you sure I can’t persuade you to borrow one of my dresses?”
“No, thanks. No offense, but your dresses all have ‘take me’ written all over them.”
“In that case I wish someone would pay attention. Okay. No dress. Move over so I can take a better look at what we’re working with.” She rifled through the clothes on Frankie’s bed and fished out a pair of emerald-green leggings. “These might work. They’re pretty. When did you buy them?”
“I didn’t. You and Paige bought them for me when you had that day in Bloomingdale’s.”
“I remember. That was a great day. I never see you in them. Don’t you like them?”
“I like them,” Frankie conceded, “but I don’t want to ruin them by wearing them.”
“They’re supposed to be worn.”
“I never know what to wear them with.”
“I have a beautiful silk tunic that would look perfect. And a matching purse. I’ll fetch them in a moment, but first show me your shoes. I don’t want to make two journeys.”