Infatuation

No matter her size, Milla Page was the least fragile woman he’d ever known. If anything, she was unbreakable. Untouchable. Unyielding. And he shouldn’t be feeling responsible for the change.

He moved closer, choosing to leave only one seat between them and angling his body to the side. He liked the idea of the space between them being more for show than effect. He wanted to see if after all this time he could still make her sweat.

Or if there was more to her emotional state than a simple case of nerves. “I guess this is where we do the small talk thing. Unless you want to skip the catching up and just tell me why you’re here.”

“I happened—”

He cut her off with a shake of his head and a laugh that was harsh. “Nope. I don’t buy that you just happened to be in the neighborhood.”

He watched as she struggled not to snap back. Her eyes, as always, gave her away. “What I was going to say was that I happened across your business card.”

“So you’re here to buy a car?” The more likely scenario was that she was here to see for herself that he really hadn’t come up in the world.

But she shook her head, surprising him by admitting, “I’m here to see you.”

He grunted, slumped back in his chair. Did she know about his show? Had she come thinking to cash in on his celebrity? Was his financial portfolio more to her liking than had been his empty pockets in college?

“It surprised me…seeing your name like that…I hadn’t thought of you in years—” She caught herself, her mouth clamping shut on her words. She shook off whatever it was she’d been thinking, and started again. “No. That’s not true.”

“Which part?” he asked, the words clattering out on a growl. The sound was an echo of the uproar piston-pumping through his midsection. “That seeing my name surprised you when we both know it shouldn’t have caused a blip on your radar?”

She set her purse on the seat between them and got to her feet, moving across the room to the coffee service before turning around. “I think about you every day, Rennie. I have for the last six years.”

He didn’t believe her. Unbreakable, untouchable, and unable to tell the truth when a lie would do. Even worse was knowing all of that and wishing it wasn’t so.

Wishing she had thought about him as often as he’d thought about her.

He clenched his fist, felt the foam of his cup begin to give. “So, you think about me every day, but it takes seeing my business card to get you to stop by?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t know you’d come back to the city.”

That’s right. He’d told her he was off to see the world. That he wouldn’t return until he’d made his first million. Instead he’d come back after what seemed like a million miles on the road and a million sleepless nights to make his fortune right here at home.

“You could’ve driven by and asked,” he finally said, his jaw tight, shooting his near-empty cup into the brown rubber can in the corner. Drops of coffee spattered across the white liner.

“You’re right.” She walked back into the room, sat in the chair across from his. “I could have and I didn’t. I’m not sure why.”

He knew exactly. And he started to remind her of their last night together, the party, the fight that had grown larger than either of them had known what to do with. But the expression of pain on her face stopped him.

He draped his arms over the backs of the seats on either side, stretched out his legs and crossed his ankles. When he rocked his feet, the toe of his boot grazed her lower calf. “I didn’t look you up, either. When I got home. Guess that evens the score.”

“How long have you been back?” she asked softly, looking at his legs rather than meeting his eyes.

Streaks of grease, oil and transmission fluid stained his navy work pants and the once-tan leather of his boots, but none of that was what she seemed to be seeing. “At least five years. I wasn’t gone long.”

Her gaze came up, her curiosity drawing her blond brows together. “I thought you were off to see the world and make your fortune.”

He shrugged, tapped his toe against her calf again. “I did some sightseeing, took on some odd jobs to keep afloat. Didn’t take me long to realize home is where the heart is, I guess you could say.”

He expected her to question his possession of one. A heart. Instead she seemed to close up a bit, her voice taking on a hint of bitterness as she said, “It’s good to know it wasn’t broken.”

He huffed. What? She expected him to admit how hurt he’d been? That he’d spent those months in Australia and New Zealand working her out of his system? They’d never had a real relationship. They’d had lust. And heat. And the sort of sex a man never forgot.

But none of that had anything to do with his heart.

The fluorescent light overhead flickered, reflecting off the lounge’s big windows that looked out over the showroom floor. “I think that’s why we worked so well in bed. We’re both unbreakable.”

The look she gave him was a silent touché, and it set them on a more even footing. Neither had been fair with the other. But they’d both grown up, and the past was in the past—even if he was suddenly having a hard time keeping it there.

He shifted forward in his seat, braced his elbows on his knees and laced his hands between. This close, he could smell her, that subtle scent of a spicy sort of flower, the same as it had always been, reminding him how often he’d turned and expected to find her there since he’d last seen her.

He’d hated himself for that weakness. “I’ve got work to do, Milla. I need to get back. So can we get to the point here?”

She smoothed her palms over the straight black skirt she wore. It made her legs look paler than they were. “I wanted to ask you for a favor.”

A favor? “A favor.”

A hesitant smile crossed her face. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“And what time was that?”

“When I saw your card.”

“But now that you’ve seen me, it doesn’t?”

More smoothing. Some toying and plucking at her hem. “It’s not that.”

“Then what?” God help him, he really wanted to know. He reached for her fingers. They were cool and small and so…fragile in his. It was hard to keep his voice steady. “What is it, Milla?”

She raised her gaze to meet his. “Seeing you again…it’s brought back so many things…I don’t know what I was thinking, coming here.”

The fact that he was more interested in what she was thinking now was as telling as deciding they could get back to what she had been thinking later. Why had he assumed that he’d see her again? “What’s the favor?”

“I need a date for tomorrow night.”

“A date?” He hadn’t seen her for six years and she’d come to ask him for a date?

“Actually, for tomorrow and the next two Friday nights,” she added, rushing on. “It’s work-related. I do club reviews for a relationship Web site.”

“Club reviews,” he said, his echo of her words sounding ridiculously inane. He was stuck processing the reality of Milla Page asking him out on a date.

“I know, I know.” She pulled her fingers free and got to her feet, grabbing her purse and heading for the door before he could stop her. “I don’t know what I’m doing here. I shouldn’t have come.”

Neither did he, but he’d bet the farm it had nothing to do with needing a date for work. “What time do you want me to pick you up?”

She stopped, turned, kept her gaze locked on his as he stood to tower above her. “You don’t have to do this, Rennie. I’ll find someone else.”

“You came to me for a reason, Milla.” When she started to interrupt, he held up one hand. “I’ll be damned if I know what it is, but we’ll figure it out later. Tell me what time and where to find you.”