“You have a love life, Ev? Update us.”
“That won’t take long. It was short. And not at all sweet. I never want it mentioned again. It was my lowest dating moment.” Eva slumped in the seat. “Tell me I’m not the only one to have ever had an embarrassing date. Paige? Make me feel better. Tell me your most embarrassing incident with a guy ever.”
They were piling up. And all of them involved Jake.
He was standing in the shadows at the edge of the roof garden
, and although his expression was sheathed by the darkness she knew he was watching her.
She’d spent years wishing he’d kiss her, and now that he had, she wished he hadn’t because every intense, erotic detail was imprinted on her brain.
“Tell us about the date, Ev.” Fortunately Matt took the heat off Paige for a moment.
“He took me to a fight club. I hate all forms of violence.” Eva curled her legs under her, indignant. “What sort of person thinks that is a dream date?”
Paige stole a glance at Jake, and then looked away again.
Part of her was annoyed. Why had he kissed her? If he’d wanted to distract her he could have used other methods. Knowing how she’d once felt about him, he should definitely have used one of those methods instead of doing something so, so—personal.
Where did their relationship go from here? How did you rewind the clock from intimacy to mere acquaintance? Somehow she had to forget the feel of his mouth on hers, the skilled stroke of his hand on her thigh and the brutal explosion of heat.
If that was how all his kisses felt it was a wonder half the women in New York hadn’t gone up in flames.
“Dream date?” Matt sounded amused by the question. “Hey Jake, what’s your idea of a dream date?”
“A night of incredible, amazing sex, preferably with Swedish triplets who are only in town for a night.”
Paige tightened her grip on her glass and Eva quickly changed the subject.
“If you were going on a date with me, Matt, where would you take me? And please don’t say a fight club.”
“I would never take you on a date, Ev.”
Eva bristled. “Why not?”
“Because I’ve known you since you were four years old.”
“Are you saying I’m not cute?”
“You’re cute.” Matt’s hand locked around a bottle of beer. “But it would be like dating my sister.”
“What about Frankie?”
There was a brief hesitation and then Matt lifted the bottle to his lips. “Same.”
Something in his tone made Paige think it wasn’t the same at all, but she didn’t say anything.
Matt’s love life was his business and she had enough problems with her own.
Taken aback, Eva glanced at Jake. “Would you ever date one of us, Jake?”
“Of course he wouldn’t,” Matt said easily. “For a start he knows you almost as well as I do and it would be weird, and then there’s the fact he knows I’d beat him to a pulp if he put a hand on any of you.”
Paige stopped breathing.
Through the darkness her eyes met Jake’s, and she knew he was thinking of that moment in the elevator when he’d put both hands on her. And his mouth.
“If none of us are dating and Jake can drag himself away from his Swedish triplets, we should take a picnic up to Central Park one weekend, all of us.” Matt carried on talking, oblivious to the tension. “Eva could make something delicious, we can walk, maybe take a couple of boats out, listen to the jazz—”