“Seriously?” Troy’s voice dropped an octave.
When Elle first entered the restaurant, she had no idea just how long it’d been. She didn’t realize just how many things were tied to her past with this man, just how stunted she’d allowed the past ten years to be without him. It went beyond her love life, beyond her fear of getting hurt. It was permeating her habits, her tastes, everything. She was thirty-five years old. It was time to figure out, finally, who she was.
Troy cleared his throat. “Rigby?”
Elle looked up with a confused expression, unaware of how long she’d been lost in thought.
“Where’d you go?”
“I was just thinking. I’ve been doing that a lot lately.” She dabbed her mouth with her napkin and quickly gulped down the remainder of her wine.
Troy reached across the table. Elle hesitated briefly, looking at his outstretched arm, before grasping his fingertips with her own. “Maybe we both need to stop thinking so damn much.”
Elle’s teeth dug into her bottom lip as his words set in. “Maybe.” They ate in silence for several minutes before Elle changed the subject. “Tell me about Payton.”
Troy sat up tall in his chair, a gleam developing in his eyes. “She’s awesome, such a great kid. I get to see her every other weekend and every Thursday.”
“That must be hard.”
“We make it work. I miss her a lot, though.” He scratched the skin of his forehead, looking down at the table. “She’s a lot like me.”
Elle eased her elbows onto the table, perching her chin on her linked hands. “Like how? Is she stubborn?”
“Oh yeah, big-time. She’s a pistol. Can’t get much by that kid, she keeps me on my toes for sure.”
“And her mother?”
“I guess you could say we’re friends. If it wasn’t for Payton, we wouldn’t be, but we get along just fine. We’ve made the best out of a difficult situation.”
“That’s really admirable. Obviously, I’m not a parent, but I think it would be hard to raise a child with someone else, especially if you’re not . . . you know, together.”
Troy shifted in his seat, took another drink, then asked, “How about you? Do you think you’ll ever want kids?”
Elle didn’t expect that question; even though he delivered it casually, she knew it was loaded. Troy wanted to know how she felt about motherhood seeing as she was thirty-five, single, and without children. She was also married to her job, and worked at least fifty to sixty hours per week.
“Honestly? I’m not sure.”
“Really? Did something change your mind? You always said—”
“I know, it’s just . . . the show is so consuming. I’m not sure I could focus on a baby until it goes off the air. And I’m hoping that won’t be for a long time.” Elle picked at her food, unsure of how Troy would feel about her lack of drive toward motherhood. He was right, though. In her twenties, Elle always assumed she’d have a family. Hell, at that age, she expected to have at least two children by her midthirties. But she also never expected to be the creator of the biggest television drama on any network. Things change.
“Makes sense. You’d be good at it, though.”
“You really think so?” She let out a sardonic laugh. “I think I’d be a nightmare. So anal-retentive, so structured and demanding.” She laughed into her napkin.
“Nah.” Troy studied her face, before licking his lips and smiling. “I think you’d do just fine.”
For the first time since she entered the restaurant, a shot of adrenaline made its way through her body, making her quite aware of the effect Troy still had on her. His opinion mattered, as it always had. The fact he thought she’d be a good mom was endearing, special. It meant something.
“Thank you.”
This time Elle extended her arm across the table, opening her hand in invitation. Troy’s lips formed a soft smile before he placed his hand in hers. They sat in the middle of the restaurant, hands interlocked, and said nothing. They simply smiled at one another, appreciating the common ground they’d managed to find after so many years, and Elle was so grateful.
“I have to ask you something, and I hope it won’t spoil the night because, so far, it’s been really nice.”
Tension hung over the table. Elle wrinkled her nose, but squeezed Troy’s hand, waiting for his question.
“Are you still seeing that guy? The one you brought to my place?”
There was no way Elle would lie. She had to be honest. Instinctively, she pulled her hand from Troy’s. He stared down at the empty space between them. “Yes. We’re dating, but we’re not a couple or anything just yet.”
Troy’s forehead relaxed and he scratched the back of his neck. His cheeks turned pink as he grinned. “Okay, cool.”
“Cool?” Elle was amused. She’d expected tension, a possible ultimatum or a warning from Troy that he wouldn’t get involved with her if she was seeing someone else. But instead he wore a boyish grin on his handsome face and she wished she could read his mind, if only for a brief moment, to know what was going on in his head.
“Yeah.”
“I wish I could read your mind right now.”
Troy leaned in across the table, his eyes boring into hers. “I don’t think you’re ready for that.”
Elle felt bold, as if she had nothing to lose. Her breath was quickening as her eyes remained fixed on Troy’s. “Try me.”
Troy lowered his voice to a whisper. “Right now, I’m thinking about how good your lips would taste. I’m thinking about how much I want to pay the check, walk out of here, and press you up against the bricks of the building.” He paused for a minute. “Should I go on?”
Elle had a sudden awareness of her own heartbeat; her fingers tingled with the need to touch and be touched by the gorgeous man on the other side of the table. Those eyes, those soulful brown eyes, focused on hers as if she were the most beautiful creature on the planet.
“Yes,” she whispered.
He glanced around briefly before continuing. “I’m thinking about pressing you against that brick wall, and unbuttoning your blouse. I’d take my time, savoring the look and feel of you as I opened each one.”
Elle swallowed hard, her palms began to sweat, and her nerve endings stirred beneath her skin. Their hands were still enmeshed on the table, and she realized Troy was now stroking her palm with his fingertips. That simple touch left her craving him, as much of him as she could possibly obtain. She wanted to make the table vanish, to push it all aside, eliminating all distance between her and the man who was making her heart pound out of control.
“What else?” She parted her legs slightly, feeling completely enveloped in her need for Troy.
“I’ll pay the check and then I’ll tell you. How does that sound?”
“Good.”
Troy released her hand and rose from the table. He walked to the other side of the restaurant, where their waiter happened to be standing. He pulled him aside, opened his wallet, and handed him a bundle of cash. Then, with a cocky grin, he joined Elle, who managed to stand despite her wobbly and weakened knees.
When he took her hand and led her outside, Troy did exactly what he had described inside. The brick felt harsh against her back, but it didn’t matter. All she wanted was to touch and explore every inch of Troy’s body. His lips crashed against hers. One hand cupped her ass as the other toyed with the collar of her blouse.
“God, I’ve missed you,” she murmured between kisses as Troy unbuttoned the first button of her blouse. “I’ve missed this.”
“Shhh,” Troy whispered, popping the next button, exposing the lace of her bra. His fingertips danced over the exposed fabric, tickling her sensitive skin, creating a delectable shiver down her spine. His lips pressed again to hers, and immediately Elle opened her mouth, inviting him in. He deepened the kiss, stroking her tongue with his own in determined yet gentle strokes. Arousal built within her as her hands roamed his back, his neck, his hair.
“Should we go somewhere . . . somewhere more private?” Elle asked, suddenly aware they were in public when she heard the voices of people walking past the restaurant. “Your place, maybe?”