“Sounds…exciting. What about your future career plans?”
“From a financial standpoint I don’t need to decide right away, so I’m still mulling them over.” He took another icy pull of his shake then said, “And now that I’ve spilled all about me, what have you been doing for the past five years?”
“Same as you. Working. Building my client base.”
“You enjoy working in real estate?”
“I do. I like every aspect of it-buyers, sellers, the challenge of matching up the right client with the right house. The housing market on Long Island has almost always been on the upswing, but it’s really hopping right now. I’ve started dealing with some commercial properties, which is a great opportunity for me, and I’m preparing to earn my broker’s license.” After swallowing another bite of onion ring, she added, “Six months ago I bought my first house.”
He could see how pleased she was and he raised his shake in a toast. “Congratulations. I know how much you always wanted your own house. That stability.”
“Still do. I’m settled in, with a mortgage, a backyard, neighbors, block parties, the whole enchilada. It would take a nuclear blast to uproot me.”
“Is your mother still moving around the country?”
“After stints in Miami and Dallas, she moved back here and is playing for the Long Island Philharmonic. She has an apartment in Suffolk County. Who knows how long she’ll stay, but for now she’s content.”
“Glad to know your professional life is going so well.” His glance involuntarily flicked to the manila envelope she’d propped against her seat, and a bolt of pure lust sizzled through him at the thought of those sexy pictures. “Seems like your personal life is, too.”
Something flashed in her eyes. “Yup. Going great. How about you?”
His masculine pride wished he could say, Yeah, women are lined up ten deep outside my apartment, but he wasn’t about to lie to her. Still, now that he had time, that situation was about to change. Especially with his trip to Europe. He was a mere plane ride away from gorgeous women lounging on exotic beaches. Ibiza, the French Riviera. Oooh, yeah.
“Everything’s great. You know, doing the bachelor thing.”
“Anyone special?”
“Nope.”
“Hot date tonight?” she asked in a teasing voice.
“Nope.”
“C’mon. I bet there’re probably women lined up ten deep outside your door.”
He swallowed his laugh at how precisely her words had echoed his thoughts. Right from day one of their friendship it had been almost eerie how they’d so often been on the same wavelength. “Not quite ten deep,” he said with a smile. “My only date tonight is working at the studio to help Nick get caught up on paperwork.”
“Bachelor-man doing paperwork on a Saturday night?” She made an exaggerated show of looking him over. “Unless your character has taken a total dive south, you’re a fairly decent guy. Reasonably attractive. Heterosexual. Financially secure. Just the sort to attract a woman or two. So what’s the problem?”
“No problem. Just taking a night off from the usual bachelor frivolity to help out a friend.” Right. No problem. Except I haven’t been able to think of anyone except you for the past week.
And it suddenly occurred to him that she’d been in his thoughts for a lot longer than the past week. She’d always been there, lingering in the back of his mind, and he’d compared every woman who’d come after her with the standard she’d set. As of yet, no one had surpassed it. If he was brutally honest, no one had even come close.
Shaking off that disturbing realization, he said, “So tell me, how did you and…what’s his name?”
“Greg.”
“How’d you two meet?”
“He’s an attorney. We met at a house closing.”
“How long ago?”
“Eight months.”
“Is it serious?” He congratulated himself on his light tone, which was in such total contrast to the inexplicable tensing of his every muscle while he waited for her reply.
She tapped the corner of her mouth with her napkin, pushed her empty plate to the side, then reached for the manila envelope. “I’ll let you know after he sees these,” she said with a teasing wink.
What the hell kind of answer was that? Surely if they were serious, she’d have just said yes. Yet, he couldn’t see her posing for such sensual photos for a man she didn’t have deep feelings for. Still…she hadn’t said yes, they were serious.
A flicker of something that felt suspiciously like hope flared to life in his chest, a tiny flame that he could neither blow out nor ignore. What was he-insane? He didn’t want her to be available. If she was available, that would totally screw up his travel plans. Again.
Wouldn’t it?
Hell, yeah.
Hell, no.
Why would it? If she was available, they could have a fling. She is not a fling sort of woman, his inner voice said. Totally true. Mallory was a forever sort of woman.
Which would be crappy timing because he was not currently a forever sort of guy. No, sir. Not him. He was footloose, worry free, Bachelor Number One, on his way to Europe for his dream vacation. She craved stability and for the next three months he’d be living out of a suitcase. Hell, in six months he wouldn’t have a place to live. For all he knew, he might very well be running a tiki bar in Hawaii. So yeah, it was good she had a boyfriend. Yup, sure was. So he just needed to put all these crazy thoughts out of his head. Now.
Forcing himself to remain silent so as not to bombard her with more questions about her relationship, Adam ate his last onion ring and watched her look over the proofs, noting the flush that crept up her face. He tried to recall the last time he’d seen a woman blush and realized it was exactly one week ago. While he’d taken Mallory’s pictures.
The urge to reach out and brush his fingers over that enticing wash of color gripped him, and he wrapped his hands around his frosty shake glass to keep from doing so. Unfortunately the chill did nothing to cool the heat nipping at him.
After taking a long, cold, chocolaty sip, he said, “You’re blushing.”
A self-conscious-sounding laugh escaped her. “It’s just kind of embarrassing that you’ve seen me in my lingerie.”
Mallory in her lingerie… Good God, he wasn’t going to survive this. He unobtrusively shifted to lessen the growing discomfort in his Levi’s. “At the risk of sounding crass, which is certainly not my intention, I’ve, um, seen you in less.” And damn it, the image those words brought to mind did nothing to lessen his discomfort.
Her blush deepened. “Right-almost a decade ago. While we were…”
“Sleeping together?” some devil inside him made him say when she seemed at a loss for words.
“As I recall, sleep had little to do with it.”
Touché. Damn, he felt as if he’d backed into a blowtorch. “Very little,” he agreed, his voice tight.
“Well, that was a long time ago. This is different. And in these pictures, I look so…”
“Sexy?”
Her gaze shot up to his. “You think so?”
He mentally shook his head at the genuine questioning confusion in her eyes. “Hell, yes. Don’t you?”
“Well…yeah, I suppose. I’m just not used to seeing myself this way.”
“Believe me, Mallory, you have nothing to be embarrassed about.”
She studied the photos for several more seconds, then said, “You did a really good job.”
“Thanks. But it had nothing to do with me and everything to do with the subject matter. I blew up the three I thought were the best into eight-by-tens. My favorite’s the last one.”
She looked at the prints, staring the longest at the last one, then raised her gaze to his. “Why do you like this one the best?”