The Next Move (22 page)

         
Licking her lips, she said, "I was just thinking, you know, as long as we stay open and honest with each other, we can head anything like that off before it starts." She swallowed. "You know, before feelings get to be too much."

         
Too late
.

~ * ~

         
He took a breath, nodding. "Right, I see what you mean."

         
She forced herself to smile.
Be open and honest, yes, but I can’t because I’m too damned scared of losing you
.

         
His gaze shifted. What if he didn’t see through her at all? What if he felt the same way? Her heart skipped.

If you do, Chris, say it. I promise, I won’t turn you away
.

He met her eyes again, and something unreadable in his expression held her breath in her throat. Something unspoken.

~ * ~

His heart pounded.
Say something
.

~ * ~

She struggled to hold his gaze.
Give me a sign
.

~ * ~

Can’t you see it
?

~ * ~

         
Stop deluding yourself, Katrina
.

         
She smiled at him to break the tension. "Well, it’s good that we had this talk. Make sure we’re both on the same page."
God, I wish you knew
.

         
He returned her smile, the warmth in his expression loosening the knots in her shoulders. "Yeah, definitely."

         
The distance between them became unbearable. Even if he didn’t know, if he never knew, how she felt, she could love him in silence. At least, whether he felt the same way or not, he was here.

Her hand slid across the cushion and covered his knee.

~ * ~

Her nervous smile turned into a devilish grin. "And as long as we’re on the same page…"

If you only knew
. He put his hand over hers, the warmth of her skin making his heart flutter. "Are you thinking what I’m thinking?"

 
"If it involves being naked and sweaty, you’d better believe it."

"Then that would be a yes." He pulled her into his arms, kissing her deeply. Together, they sank onto the couch.

As clothes came off and kisses deepened, as the sounds of orgasms echoed through the apartment, as she begged him to fuck her, he wished that
just once
he could tell her he
wasn’t
fucking her.

He was making love to her.

Thirty Two

         
With her lips still tingling from Blake’s good night kiss, Kat watched in her rearview as the silver Jaguar pulled out of the parking lot. The distinctive taillights faded from view as he turned onto a side street and disappeared.

         
As soon as he was out of sight, Kat let out a breath and closed her eyes. Her stomach was knotted with an uncomfortable mix of giddy butterflies, puzzling guilt, and the weight of an inevitable decision that she would have to make sooner than later.

         
Blake was everything she wanted in a man; intelligent, funny, attractive. An accent that melted her as easily as his kiss. Divorced, but not bitter. Interested, but not pushy. A total gentleman who clearly hid a dirty side that she desperately wanted to see.

         
So
why
did she balk at going home with him?

         
She’d gone home with plenty of guys that didn’t interest her nearly as much as he did, and some that had interested her. One night stands and weekend flings didn’t bother her, nor did sleeping with someone on a first date. The chemistry was there with Blake, had been since the moment she met him, but still she held back.

         
And she simply didn’t understand
why
.

She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel and stared out the windshield, focusing on nothing in particular. She wasn’t cheating on Blake or Chris. Neither of them expected to be exclusive with her, and she could sleep with either of them with a clear conscience.

         
Still, she couldn’t bring herself to sleep with Blake. After he was gone, she couldn’t bring herself to call Chris. Something about being with him after an evening with Blake didn’t sit well. Their casual relationship was a backup plan for dates gone sour and evenings with no plans, not dates that were perfect except for a case of cold feet.

Two hot, willing men, and she just couldn’t do it.

         
There was no denying what she felt for Chris, but rationally, she knew there was no point in waiting for him to feel the same way. They’d agreed to the rules, they were friends with benefits, and that was it. He simply wasn’t going to be anything more, and she knew that.

         
Blake, on the other hand, was available. Interested. Exactly what she wanted, and probably just what she needed. So why was she so damned guarded with him?

         
It wasn’t as if she couldn’t have the best of both worlds. As long as she and Blake were just casually dating, there was no reason she couldn’t keep things going with Chris. If things turned serious with Blake, though—

         
Her eyes flew open. Something sank in her stomach as the penny dropped.

         
Deep down, she was almost certain that if she and Blake continued, things
would
get serious. She’d had that gut feeling a few times in the past, and had only been wrong once. There was that level of chemistry, that 'click', that said "he’s going to be around for a while". Getting serious with Blake wasn’t a matter of if, it was a matter of when.

         
If
, that is, she let herself get involved with him.

         
And she realized that she wasn’t letting herself get involved with him because that would ultimately mean getting
un
involved with Chris. Blake was just the kind of guy she’d been looking for all along. The only thing that kept her guarded and out of his reach was the man that was out of
her
reach.

         
"Fuck," she whispered into the silence. She rubbed her eyes and started the car.

         
All along, she knew this intimate relationship with Chris would eventually come to a crossroads, a point in time when a decision would have to be made to continue as lovers or friends.

         
That crossroads was Blake.

         
And she didn’t know which way to go.

Thirty Three

         
It was Chris’s turn to go to the bar, so he shouldered his way through the thick crowd and flagged the bartender down.

         
As he waited for his order, a girl stepped up to the bar next to him. She was gorgeous. Probably Philipino, judging by her dark skin, jet black hair, and exotic eyes. The low cut dress she wore clung to her narrow but shapely hips, the skirt stopping well shy of her knees.

         
When she looked at him, she didn’t accuse him of staring. If anything, her smile told him he was welcome to keep looking.

         
"What’s your name?" he asked over the blaring music.

         
"Tina," she said. "Yours?"

         
"Chris."

         
They exchanged smiles, but the conversation didn’t go any further. She raised one thin eyebrow, as if waiting for him to ask the inevitable question. His eyes flicked towards the dance floor, then to the table where his friends waited.

         
Kat wasn’t looking at him, but he was sure looking at her, and guilt gnawed at him. He wanted to ask Tina to dance, but it just didn’t seem right with Kat so close by.

         
When the bartender brought his drinks, he paid, gave Tina one last smile, and headed back into the crowd.
God, she’s hot. What I wouldn’t do for just one dance. One. Dance
.

On his way back to the table, an epiphany hit him so hard he almost stopped dead in his tracks.

She was obviously waiting for him to ask, so why didn’t he?
I’m single, for God’s sake
.

         
Why was he so worried about Kat seeing him dance with another woman? It wasn’t as if she was any more likely to return his feelings if she knew she was the only woman in his life.

         
What am I doing
?

         
He glanced over his shoulder. Tina was still at the bar. Maybe he hadn’t missed his chance after all.

         
Setting the drinks and change on the table, he said, "You guys sort out the change, I’ll be back." Before he could meet Kat’s eyes and let his conscience talk him out of it, he went back into the crowd and headed back to the bar.

         
She was gone.

         
Damn it
. He looked around, realizing just how futile it was to find someone of Tina’s height in a crowd that thick. His heart sank.
Had your chance, dipshit, and you
—

         
There she was.

         
Across the room, sipping a martini and chatting with three other women, there she was. Blood pounded in his ears, drowning out the deafening music as he worked his way towards her. He didn’t dare take his eyes off of her; in a place like that, it only took a second for someone to slip away and disappear into the crowd.

         
Just before he reached her, she glanced at him and did a double take, then smiled.

         
"Hey," he said. "Sorry, earlier, I—" He gestured at the bar. "I had to get some drinks to my friends."

         
"No problem." She grinned.
I knew you’d come find me
, the twinkle in her eyes said.

         
He nodded towards the dance floor. "Care for a dance?"

         
"Of course," she said, setting her drink on the table. To her friends, she said something he couldn’t understand, and then followed him, wobbling a little on her stiletto heels. He offered her his elbow and she took it. She stumbled a bit on the way, but he kept her upright. It never ceased to amaze him that women didn’t snap their ankles on a daily basis in such precarious footwear. His perfectly comfortable dress shoes almost made him feel guilty with the things women inflicted on their own feet.

         
Safely on the dance floor, he put her arms around her. As they danced, she wobbled again, this time nearly toppling against him. At first he’d thought it was her stiletto heels, which still only brought her up to about his chest, but when he pulled her closer to keep her steady, he caught a scent that
definitely
wasn’t perfume. A combination of disappointment and annoyance sank in his gut.

         
He didn’t mind a woman who drank, but when she drank so much he could smell it on her and she couldn’t stand on her own two feet, that was where he drew the line. He’d dance with her, but he definitely wouldn’t leave with her, and it would be a cold day in hell before he slept with her.

         
Over her shoulder, he cast a glance at the table where his friends still hung out. They were all lost in conversation and drinks.

         
All except for Kat.

         
When their eyes met, her cheeks colored. She inhaled sharply and went for her drink. For a moment, she tried to immerse herself in everything going on around her, but he was still watching when her eyes flicked towards him again.

         
As he and Tina turned on the floor and he no longer faced the table, he couldn’t get Kat’s puzzling expression out of his mind.

         
She couldn’t possibly be jealous. They had both danced with other people since they’d made this arrangement. They’d agreed they could even sleep with other people. Though he hadn’t been with another woman since he started sleeping with Kat, there was nothing to stop her from sleeping with other men.

         
A sudden pang of jealousy tightened his chest and he gritted his teeth. Then he swallowed hard, reminding himself of the rules.

         
But what about that look? Was she jealous?

         
Of course she wasn’t.

         
If she was, that would mean she…

         
No, she doesn’t Wishful thinking, nothing more
.

         
Whatever it was, one thing was for certain. He wasn’t sleeping with Tina tonight. Jealousy, wishful thinking, or just shameless pining for Kat notwithstanding, Tina was way too drunk for his taste.

         
Leaning in to speak to her, moving closer just so she could hear him over the music, he was caught off guard when the hands on the back of his neck pulled him down into a kiss. Just as she did, she lost her balance, and he held her close to him to keep her upright even as she assaulted his mouth with a vodka-marinated tongue. He quickly righted her, made sure she was more or less on her own two feet and broke the kiss, smiling at her but silently sending up a prayer of thanks for the height difference between them. Another kiss like that and he’d be too drunk to drive home.

         
He looked towards the table again, and his eyes were immediately drawn to Kat’s chair.

         
Kat’s
empty
chair.

         
That’s not a good sign
.

         
As the song wound down, he gently separated himself from Tina, then guided her back to her table. Once he was sure she was safely back with her friends – and her martini – he made a polite escape back into the crowd.

         
He didn’t go back to the table. He didn’t need to ask anyone where Kat had gone. Assuming she hadn’t left the club there was only one place she’d go if she needed to avoid the sight of him with another woman.

         
His heart in his throat, he headed for the stairwell and took the steps two at a time, praying she was still there.