Good with His Hands (18 page)

So did I.

“Are you two fighting?” Alex asked.

“No.” They'd had one hell of an intense night last night, but it hadn't included any arguing. “I just think something's on her mind.”

“Try asking her about it. According to my sisters, ‘communication is key.'” He punctuated this advice with air-quotes and a falsetto voice. “It sucks, but if you like her, you might actually have to talk about the Relationship.”

Sean would have chuckled at his friend's ominous tone if he weren't so perplexed. “Actually, I tried to talk to her about the relationship last night. But we, um, got distracted.”

“You dog.” Alex looked impressed. When Sean didn't return his smile, he shook his head. “Hold up—you're
unhappy
because your girl would rather do the mattress mambo than discuss her feelings? That's like the holy grail of relationships right there!”

There was a time Sean might have believed that. As he rose to take his next turn, he questioned why he felt so discontent. Dani was a fun, sexy woman who wasn't pressing him to do more with his life or analyze their every interaction. Why wasn't that enough? When did he get greedy for more?

When I started falling in love with her.

* * *

B
Y
THE
TIME
Dani got the text asking if Sean could cook her dinner Wednesday, she was desperate to see him again. Meg had babysat one of her nephews on Monday and gone out with Bryce on Tuesday, leaving Dani plenty of solitary hours to think about Sean, replaying favorite snippets of conversation in her head and reliving the feel of his body moving against hers.

She knocked on his front door, flutters of anticipation quickening in her abdomen. He answered immediately, barefoot in a pair of dark jeans and wearing an untucked button-down shirt with a plaid dishtowel thrown over his shoulder.

A grin spread across his face. “Hello, beautiful.” He plucked at the leather strap of her small purse. “Any chance you're carrying another set of interesting ‘pajamas' in there?” The black lace had been a hit. He'd told her she was stunning in the garment, then promptly ripped it off her.

“No pajamas necessary. I have an early morning, so I won't be staying the night.” His expression was so crestfallen, she hastily added, “But I promise you'll like what I'm wearing under the suit. Unless you aren't in favor of thongs?” she added coyly.

With a growl, he tugged her against him. His tongue delved into her mouth with such possessive sensuality that she trembled. He slid his hands over the fabric of her suit skirt, palming her butt. He didn't break their kiss until an insistent beeping sounded from the kitchen.

“Oven timer,” he said ruefully. “I've worked too hard pretending I can cook to let dinner burn.”

“Well, whatever you're pretending to cook smells wonderful,” she said, catching the aroma of some kind of red-wine sauce. As she followed him toward the kitchen, she spotted candles on the table. Between two pillars sat a flower arrangement that was an exact match of the one he'd sent to her office.

She was caught off guard by the romantic touches. “There's no fairy in this one.” The observation was the first thing she could think of to say.

“No.” He gave her a lopsided smile, full of charm. “She was one of a kind. I checked the chicken, and it still needs time. Can I pour you some wine?”

“Yes, please.”

He pulled a bottle of chardonnay from the refrigerator and filled the two glasses that sat on the counter, handing one to her. “I asked Bryce to suggest a bottle, so it should be excellent.”

First the flowers, now expensive wine? In the years she'd dated Tate, he'd only gone out of his way to cook for her once—the night he'd proposed. Déjà vu thudded to the pit of her stomach like a rock. “What's the occasion?”

“You,” he said, raising his glass as if toasting her.

His simple declaration left her divided. There was the Dani who was utterly beguiled by the sincerity in his voice, who wanted to repay his thoughtfulness by covering him in kisses. Then there was the Dani who recoiled, afraid that her plan of keeping an emotional safety net was failing. To keep from saying anything ungrateful, she took a healthy slug of wine.

“So how's Meg doing?” he asked. “Fully recovered from her breakup?”

“She certainly seemed chipper enough when your brother picked her up last night.” On the one hand, Dani questioned whether her friend had allowed sufficient recovery time before throwing herself into her next romantic involvement. But on the other hand, Nolan didn't deserve Meg's pining, and Bryce seemed to be treating her well.
Don't they all, at first?

Dani cleared her throat. “She, um, found a place to live, but she can't move in until the first of next month.”

“Well, if your apartment ever feels cramped, you're always welcome here,” he said. She must have paled or made a face because his eyes suddenly narrowed. “What? I thought you liked it here?”

“I do.”

“Yet I can barely convince you to stay the night. And sometimes when I suggest we spend time together, you give me that look.”

“What look?”

“The ‘back off, buddy' look that I'm getting right now.”

“We did agree to take this slowly,” she said defensively.

He set his wineglass down on the counter hard enough to make the liquid inside slosh wildly. “Slow isn't the same as stagnant. We spent the night together on our first date. At some point, don't you think there's a natural progression from there?”

“T-to what?” she asked, scared to know the answer. Living together? Marriage? Inevitable heartbreak?

“I don't know.” He shoved a hand through his hair. “To a place where I can suggest you bring a curling iron over and get ready for work here without you freaking out and pushing me away.”

“I...” She instinctively wanted to deny his words, but the truth was, she thought this would work better with some degree of distance. “I'm not thinking in terms of curling irons and your giving me drawer space. I was just looking for fun.”

The words, which had previously seemed harmless, now rang hollow. Almost cruel. Sean sucked in a breath, his eyes hurt.

He laughed, and it was a harsh sound, full of disbelief and contempt. “You're a lot like my last girlfriend, you know that? She thought I was fun, too.
A good time.
Those were her exact words. Not a legitimate prospect for ever sharing her life with, but a talented lay for sharing her bed.”

“That's not fair!” She didn't know what sickened her more—that he might actually see himself like that or that he could somehow believe she did.

“No, what isn't fair is falling for a woman who...” He looked bleakly past her, at the immaculately set table, then met her eyes. “I'm not looking for something as shallow as fun. I want more than that. I deserve more than that,” he said quietly.

Her eyes burned with frustration and unshed tears. She was furious with herself for ruining the nice dinner he'd planned and furious with him for pushing for more than she could give. It had been simpler when they were two strangers shooting pool, interested in a little hot sex with no strings.

“You knew when I met you,” she said softly, “that I wasn't looking for a relationship. I wasn't looking for roses or commitment or fancy wine.”

“You think I was?” He glanced away, his lips twisting in a sad smile. “I was not looking for you, Danica Yates. And finding you has been something of a mixed blessing. I think you should probably go.”

“What?” The unexpected rejection sent her reeling. She waved her hand in a vague gesture, trying to encompass both the table behind them and the food that was still cooking. “But you went to all this work.”

“Yeah,” he agreed sadly. “I worked hard to get you to forgive me, to get you to go out with me. I'm done now. The truth is, you can't give me what I need.”

“Are you...breaking up with me?” she asked, feeling a little lost.

“I'm not sure you can call it that. Breaking up implies we had a real relationship to begin with.” He said it with more regret than anger, and she almost wished he was yelling. Fighting would be easier than this remorse bubbling up inside her like acid. She'd hurt him.

Her vision swam, and she knew she had to get out of here if she didn't want him to see her cry. But she couldn't leave him thinking that he'd been no more to her than a random sexual partner. “Sean, you have to know that...I care about you.” The words came out stiff and flat, not doing her emotions justice.

“The fact that you can barely admit that much is why we shouldn't see each other again.” He took a step forward, moving close just long enough to drop a kiss to her forehead. “Goodbye, Dani.”

* * *

W
HEN
THE
DOOR
to the apartment opened, Meg and Bryce sprang apart in surprise.
Shoot.
Meg had been so sure he was about to kiss her for the first time. Why was Dani back so soon? Meg hadn't expected her home for hours.

She rose from the couch, not meeting Bryce's gaze for fear a blush would flame across her face. She'd
really
wanted him to kiss her. “Forget your cell phone or something?” she called to her roommate.

Dani's face was pale, her eyes stricken. “Or something.”

Meg's heart sank. “You guys had a fight?”

“He told me to go. He said...” Her gaze briefly lit on Bryce, then flitted away as if looking at him was painful. “Never mind, you two carry on. I'm going to bed early and won't be a bother to anyone.”

Meg turned back to her date. “Sorry, but I have to kick you out now.”

He squeezed her shoulder. “I'd expect no less. You're a loyal and compassionate woman.” He leaned forward and brushed the lightest kiss across the corner of her mouth. “You're also incredibly sexy, but we'll discuss that another time.”

Her heart thudded in giddy pleasure and as he turned to go, she grabbed him by the lapels of his suit jacket and planted a kiss soundly on his lips, letting herself melt into it for the briefest of moments, her mouth opening eagerly beneath his as she breathed in the scent of him, the warmth of him.

“Right, then.” She patted him on the chest, happy to see her basic motor functions were still functioning. A kiss like that could shock a girl's system. “Call me soon.”

“Tomorrow,” he promised, his gorgeous eyes looking a bit dazed. “And I wouldn't even wait that long except I think your friend needs you.”

“You should know, I warned your brother that if he hurt her, I would end him. How would you feel about being an only child?”

Bryce chuckled. “There have been days when it was my fondest wish.” But then he sobered. “I have to say, though, it's hard to imagine him hurting her. The way he looks at her? I would have bet money he was a man in love.”

She grimaced, knowing Dani's feelings on that subject. “For his sake, I hope not.”

* * *

W
HEN
D
ANI
CAME
home from a closing the following Monday afternoon, she was surprised to find Meg sitting in her living room. She hadn't seen much of her friend since rather rudely stonewalling Meg last week, claiming she had no intention of discussing her breakup with Sean and wasn't interested in anyone's opinion on the subject.

Dani was even more surprised to see that her unused wedding gown was draped over the living room sofa. “What on earth are you doing with that?”

“I needed a visual aid.” Meg's eyes were gleaming and her arms were crossed. She looked like someone prepared for battle. “Do you remember the day we went shopping for a dress? You had a checklist of practical considerations, like budget and the usual weather conditions for the month you were getting married.”

“Yeah. I planned ahead. I do that.”

“Yes, very practical of you. And you found a dress that fit you well and matched all your criteria.”

Dani nodded, lamenting the wasted time and money. “The perfect dress.”

“No.” Meg shook her finger at her. “Because you didn't
love
the dress. You didn't light up when you looked in the mirror with that ‘yes, this is the one!' bridal glow. And you approached your relationship with Tate in much the same way. He made sense according to some sort of practical boyfriend list you had in your head. But he didn't make you glow.”

Dani ground her teeth in frustration. “Not everyone's as emotionally open as you are, Rafferty. I'm not a very glowy person.” Nor did she want to be. It was a silly basis for long-term decisions. “You think I tell my clients to buy houses based on which ones give them the goofiest smiles when they walk through the door? There are inspections to schedule and lenders to consult.”

“I don't think you give your heart enough credit,” Meg argued. “You think that just because it's an emotional decision, it can't also be intelligent? Your heart was smart enough not to fall in love with Tate Malcom. He didn't deserve you. I think Sean Grayson does. And what's more, you think that, too. Your heart's shouting it at you, and you're being a pansy. You've been miserable all week in a sterile, I-refuse-to-cry, emotionless-robot kind of way. He made you happy!”

Sometimes. He also made her nervous. She realized now that Tate had been safe. On some level, she'd known even when she agreed to marry him that there was no chance he'd ever break her heart the way her mother's death had broken her father's. Sean was exhilarating and consuming and dangerous. He would never be “safe.”

Because she couldn't contest Meg's point, she limited her response to a stiff, “I didn't ask your opinion.”

Meg snorted. “That's never stopped you from giving yours. And most of your advice to me has been spot-on. Well, it's my turn now.
I'm
the one with the good advice. But it's up to you to get your head out of your ass and take it!”