Sunset In Central Park (From Manhattan with Love 2)

Did she invite him in for coffee?

Did she say good-night at the door?

She worried all the way back and the worry intensified as they crossed the Brooklyn Bridge, the lights shimmering across the gunmetal surface of the East River.

She paid the cab driver and walked to the door to her apartment, wishing she could calm the feelings in the pit of her stomach.

Hand shaking, she reached into her pocket and pulled out her keys. “Tonight was fun.”

She was as jumpy as a kangaroo on a trampoline.

Matt reached out his hand and her heart danced in an excited rhythm. This time he was definitely going to kiss her. The chemistry was so powerful, even she could feel it and she waited, hardly daring to breathe, wanting it desperately and yet at the same time terrified because she knew that once he kissed her that would be it. He’d know. Anticipation danced across her nerve endings, sending a thousand volts of electricity through her body.

Her eyes started to close. She swayed and then felt his fingers brush against hers as he took the keys from her and opened the door to her apartment.

“Good night, Frankie.” His voice came from close to her ear, rough, male and thickened with intimacy. He was close enough that she could see the rough texture of the stubble that shadowed his jaw.

“Matt—”

“Sleep well.”

She opened her eyes and stared into his.

Sleep well? That was all he was going to say?

He’d been racking up the tension all night, and he wasn’t going to kiss her?

Damn it, if he wasn’t going to kiss her then she’d kiss him. They needed to get it out of the way once and for all. She reached out to haul him toward her, but her hand closed over thin air. And he didn’t notice because he was already walking away from her.

This, she thought dizzily as she stared after his retreating back, was why she avoided relationships.

She would never in a million years understand men.

Chapter Nine

If your glass is half-full, open another bottle of wine.

—Paige

Frustrated and unsettled, Frankie closed the door of her apartment. She was too wound up to sleep. Her mind was full of thoughts that were too uncomfortable to examine closely. Thoughts about getting naked with Matt. Hot, sweaty thoughts. Exciting thoughts.

Crap.

The date had been nothing like she’d expected it to be. She’d thought it would go the way all her dates went—a few awkward hours together where the conversation didn’t quite gel—the verbal equivalent of bumping noses when you kissed. Instead, it had been relaxed and fun. Matt had made it fun.

Central Park. Why had no one thought to take her on a date there before?

The answer was obvious. Because no one knew her as well as Matt did. It was always restaurants or a movie. And all her relationships collapsed long before the moment when her date might have realized that being outdoors was her favorite thing.

As far as she was concerned, there had been only one real thing wrong with the evening.

He hadn’t kissed her.

On the other hand if he had kissed her, it would have ruined the evening. Knowing that she wasn’t going to sleep, she decided that she might as well return Eva’s purse.

It took a while for her friend to answer and when she finally opened the door, Frankie backed away in shock.

“What happened to your face? If you’re auditioning for a horror movie the part is yours.”