One Blazing Night (5 page)

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

S
AM
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.”

“I think we should try to fix that. And also, you worked on a video game about lady dragons? That must have been—”

“A dream come true. It really was. It doesn't do all that well as a story, though, because it's pretty technical.”

“And I'm one of those men in suits whose eyes glaze over?”

“I've always liked you better in jeans anyway,” she said, grinning. “But seeing London sounds great.” She sounded as cool as the water in her glass. But on the inside, there was absolute panic. What had he meant exactly? Had he just asked her to go visit London with him? But that wouldn't be for two years, when they could have sex right here in Boston, like, really soon...

She stopped. Just stopped the thought in its tracks. Having sex with Matt was not a good idea. She wanted him like crazy. He was a tall, gorgeous mix of the young man she'd had a crush on forever and a sophisticated dream she'd never forget. He was
too much
. It wasn't fair. No one could measure up to him, and then where would that leave her?

So. No more debate. She took a sobering sip of water, then repeated, “It's been really good catching up with—”

The beer arrived with much fanfare, because there was a real live Wilkinson in the restaurant. The concierge who delivered the brews went a little overboard in his descriptions of each one. Although, to be fair, her lager was so good it made her toes curl.

Finally, after a lot of smiling, the nice gentleman left but was quickly replaced by Xander, carrying a huge tray. He brought the fresh-caught oysters, lobster roll and onion rings they'd ordered but also a bunch of other sample plates. The tuna tartare was amazing, as was the crispy fish taco.

“I don't know how I'm going to be able to eat all this,” she said, turning her attention back to her favorite dish, the oysters topped with a spicy cocktail sauce and lemon.

“No one is going to get upset if you don't taste everything.”

“I want to. Are you kidding? And I'll be damned if I don't eat every last fresh oyster on this table. So beware.”

“You honestly think you could take even one of my oysters?”

The dare was in place, just like in the old days. When she would have done exactly that. But she was an adult now. “It's been really good,” she began, having to fight to keep it upbeat when it was now officially breaking her heart, “catching up with you—”

His cell phone rang. He sent her an apologetic look but took the call. Instead of scarfing down all the oysters while he was busy and not paying attention, Sam sneaked her cue cards out onto her lap.

She made herself read the first version of the speech. The one where she was firm but nice. And wouldn't back down.

Then she pulled out the first card of the second version, but the tone of Matt's voice distracted her completely. He sounded so strong. So authoritative. She'd never actually heard him in business mode, and, whoa, he was clearly taking no bullshit from whomever it was he was speaking with. Someone who wanted to change a deal after they'd already signed papers, evidently.

He was quiet a moment, listening, then told someone named Andrew, in a very different and more Matt-like manner, that he'd be in the office in the morning to set up the conference call for 5:00 a.m.

He ended the call and frowned.

“If you have to go, we can get doggie bags or something.”

“No need. I'm used to doing business at weird hours. Tokyo this time. We just finished up there, and now Takagi wants to mess with the non-compete clause.”

“Sounds important.”

“It's a pain in my ass. I haven't had a real vacation in years. Not since I was married. And that last vacation was what pushed us both over the edge. As soon as we arrived back in New York, Vanessa got the ball rolling on the divorce.”

“That's... I'm really sorry it didn't work out.”

“We married for the wrong reasons. No one's fault. The split was amicable. We see each other from time to time. Mostly in New York, but in Boston, too.”

“Isn't that awkward?”

“Hasn't been. Anyway, this feels like a vacation, although I wish we had more time together.” He held up a hand. “Not that I'm going to try and pressure you into taking more time off for me. Unless my sad story compels you in some way to—”

She laughed. It was so, so hard not to say yes. So she struggled for something else to say, something to do with his work, and came up with “I can't believe you have to make a conference call so early in the morning. You're the CEO's son. Don't they cut you any slack?”

Matt's smile changed, and she wanted to pull back the words.

“Hey. I was only teasing. You're not where you are because of nepotism. I know how hard you worked in school. I can only imagine what it took to get the
Harvard Law Review
your second year.”

He seemed to relax, but she wished she knew him well enough to read what was behind the way he was looking at her. “You know about that, huh?”

“You're not the only one who reads the alumni newsletter.”

The concierge arrived with a second round of beer, and she wished he hadn't. But maybe another drink would help her get up her courage. She had to tell him. Matt would understand. It was in both their best interests to cool things down. And it wasn't as if she wouldn't see him again. They'd meet for a drink one more time before he left. Simple.

* * *

M
ATT
TOOK
A
big swig of his fresh beer and regretted it instantly. He had to get up at three thirty to prepare for tomorrow's call. He should have known Takagi was going to be a hell-raiser. He was the CEO's son, trying to make a name for himself. Matt understood where he was coming from.

Takagi would be tricky, but then, Matt liked tricky. Nowadays, he used skillful legal maneuvering to outwit his opponents. In some ways it was similar to stepping into the ring. Or facing a rival in an illegal street fight. Only without the blood and bruises. He didn't need those badges of courage anymore.

“You're still upset, aren't you?” Sam said, watching him over the rim of her beer. “I swear I didn't mean anything.”

“No. I know you didn't. Although, it's funny. My ex was stunned that I actually worked for a living. She thought, with my trust fund kicking in at thirty-five, I could take her on year-round yachting cruises or something. If anything, I've had to prove myself more than any other employee.”

“What about your sister? Is she working for the firm?”

“Nope. She shops for a living, mostly with our mom. Which is where Vanessa got the idea that it was a family trait.”

“I'm sure once she realized—”

“She didn't. I should have known after the first year that we were a mistake. She married the image of a Wilkinson and I married who I thought was everything I wanted. But I didn't know her, either.”

Sam looked upset, which wasn't what he'd expected. His marriage was long over. He wouldn't make the same mistake again.

“Not to hijack the conversation,” she said, “but wasn't Takagi the name of the boss at the Christmas party in
Die Hard
?”

His laugh got caught on a sip of water, and he coughed, nearly spraying the table. He shook his head. “You are such a weirdo.”

She was already grinning, but that set her laughing. Talk about memories. They'd both called each other that so many times he couldn't count them all. Watching her eyes sparkle and her face glow pink from laughing, he wanted to end the dinner right then. Bribe or threaten her into going to the apartment with him, whatever it took.