Drawn Deep (Afternoon Delight 2)

A willowy brunette with long, swingy hair opened the door and beamed. “Hi there, Michael, is it? I’m Sara, Brad’s—” She broke off and shrugged, her smile widening. “Well then. Come in please.”

“Thank you. It’s nice to meet you, Sara.” He held out a hand and she pulled him into a hug, causing him to laugh. “I can see all of the great things I’ve heard about you are true.”

“Clearly that payoff plan I instituted to get them to lie is working.” She grinned and accepted the wine he held out. “Thank you. You shouldn’t have.”

“It’s no trouble.”

Heels clicked sharply on the hallway floor. “Oh, Sar, stop groping the guy. He’ll get confused about what kind of place this is.” Tossing the hair Kim had left down in glossy dark waves, she sailed past them and stopped outside of a sunken living room. “Evening, Michael. We’re in the dining room.”

“You know Kim too, right?” Sara asked once Kim had gone. “Brad said he thought you were acquainted.”

“Yes, we know each other.” He cleared his throat and tried to shake the image of Kim in a backless white dress from his mind. What the hell kind of bra did she wear in a dress like that?

None, you idiot. She’s half-naked under there.

Had she not remembered he was coming over? Or better, had she dressed that way purposefully to make him want her? If so, she needn’t have bothered. Since the first moment he’d laid eyes on her—first by the side of the road then in Rand’s class—he hadn’t been able to keep her from his thoughts. She blurred out the edges of everything around her until she became all that mattered.

“Michael?” Sara asked, touching his arm.

“Yes, sorry. Did you say something?”

“I asked if you would like a drink. Brad’s making cocktails.”

Michael considered for half a minute then decided what the hell. When in Fairdale… “Sure. I don’t drink enough to know what to ask for but tell him to make me one of whatever he’s having.”

“Oh, he doesn’t drink cocktails either. He’s having a beer. The cocktails are for Kim.”

“I’ll have a beer too.” He leaned toward Sara and murmured close to her ear as they walked into the living room. “Will the cocktails sweeten her up?”

Even as he asked the question, he felt a little guilty, but it was fun to share the private joke with Sara. He didn’t begrudge Kim being annoyed with him. After his lies, he deserved that. But he also thought he deserved for her to listen to him long enough to have a real conversation about what had happened. He’d wanted to apologize further, to ask her if it was possible for them to try to just…be together for a little while before they went their separate ways. Not necessarily as a couple if that freaked her out too much. Just friends who were a bit closer than that. He liked her and he wasn’t ready for her to leave his life yet.

Sara laughed and linked her arm with his. “The way Brad makes them, they’d sweeten up Hannibal Lecter.”

“Huh, maybe I should’ve tried one then.”

Sara squeezed his arm and led him toward the dining room. “We’ll leave the option open for the end of the meal if you feel like you need one.”

“Appreciate that.”

“Took you long enough,” Kim said as she walked around the table, setting cloth napkins and crystal glasses at the four place settings. “I thought you’d gotten lost.”

“I’ll be right back with the drinks,” Sara said before releasing him. She lifted the wine he’d brought. “I’ll open this up too.”

“Fabulous.” Michael lifted a brow as Kim slammed down the glass at his chair with more force than was necessary.

Kim didn’t hide her emotions behind a polite façade. After so many years of pretending he didn’t need more human contact than the little Roch provided, he had to admire Kim’s honesty. If she didn’t like something, she wouldn’t suffer silently. Wouldn’t walk away and lie about not needing more.

A strand of hair tumbled over her red glossed lips and he swallowed hard as he came up behind her. It would be so easy to lean forward and slide that chunk of silk away. To caress her full lower lip with his pinky, maybe get a little of that red paint on his skin. If he brushed against her, he’d carry her tropical scent with him when he took his seat. She’d be all over him like she was already in his head.

“Can I help?” he asked, fighting the instinct to lay his hand on the bare flesh at the base of her spine. Not touching her whenever possible seemed like a crime against nature.

“You’re a guest. Guests don’t help. Sit.” Her clipped tone didn’t match the flush of color blossoming in her cheeks. Was he making her nervous along with pissed?

“I’m not a guest.”

“Says who? Just because we fucked doesn’t mean you have to serve me.”

A throat cleared in the doorway. “Well then, that explains a lot.” Sara shook her head and juggled drinks on her way to the table. “Thanks for telling your best friend absolutely nada. Makes a girl feel real good.”