‘So, photography, sailing, dancing … is there anything you’re not good at?’ Juliet asked. The smile in her voice hit him like a sledgehammer.
He kept his eyes firmly on the road. ‘I only show you the stuff I’m good at. Who wants to admit they’re bad at something?’
‘Come on. You don’t strike me as the type to brag. There must be something you’re bad at.’ She was teasing him again.
He gave a humourless laugh. ‘Of course there is, but I’m not going to tell you that, am I?’
‘You’re being very modest.’
He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. Only nine minutes now. ‘Okay, I’m not a great cook.’
‘What a let down. I don’t think I’ve met many men who are great cooks, unless you count those chef guys on TV. Is that your only failing, the only skeleton in your closet?’
They pulled up at a stoplight. He willed it to turn green. Instead it hung around, the red glow illuminating the truck. Against his resolve he turned to look at her, and she was staring straight at him. Everything about her was soft and sweet. He wanted to bury himself in her. ‘There are plenty of skeletons in my closet,’ he finally said, his voice thick. He pulled his gaze from hers and stared back out of the windshield. At last the lights turned green, and he pulled away, almost speeding in his need to get home.
She tilted her head to the side, that devastating smile pulling at her lips. Her skin looked so soft and supple in the lamplight it was all he could do to keep his hands on the wheel.
‘Now I’m intrigued,’ she said.
‘You shouldn’t be.’ Four minutes. What was that, two hundred and forty seconds? He could count them down if he needed to, anything to take his mind off the woman sitting next to him.
‘You know, I’m really good at finding out secrets.’
‘I bet you are.’
If he didn’t know better he’d have thought she was flirting with him. Everything in him wanted to flirt right back. It would be easy, so much easier than this. He’d park up in the driveway, reach across and cup his palm around her smooth neck. He could lean in, feel that perfect moment of hesitation before his lips brushed against hers.
But that wasn’t going to happen, because this was London. She’d made it clear exactly where the boundaries lay. And he was going to keep firmly behind them no matter what it took, because he respected her too much to do anything else.
Two minutes.
One minute.
Then they were home. Thank God.
When was the last time she came home this late? Juliet couldn’t remember. It must have been before she left Thomas, but even then she couldn’t recall the night feeling this magical. Couldn’t recall the last time she felt this alive, either. She hadn’t wanted to stop dancing, hadn’t wanted to leave the club at all.
She didn’t want tonight to end.
Ryan pulled her door open, and offered her his hand. She took it, and climbed out of the truck, lingering next to him as he locked it up. Shoving his keys into his pocket, he glanced over at her, and she couldn’t quite read the expression on his face.
She wanted to make him smile again. ‘I feel like Audrey Hepburn in My Fair Lady. I could have danced all night.’
‘You would have regretted it tomorrow. You still might. We probably used muscles we’ve never used before.’
‘No regrets here.’ Her voice was firm.
Something flashed behind his eyes, but she couldn’t quite name it. ‘I’ll walk you home,’ he said, his voice gruff.
She waited for him to take her hand, or put his palm on her back the way he had in the dance club. But instead he just walked alongside her, keeping a steady distance between their arms. She couldn’t help but miss his touch.
When they reached the bottom step, she turned to look at him. There was still a gap between them – of two feet or more. But when their eyes met she could feel her heart start to drum inside her chest, a steady, fast beat that made her feel breathless.
If this was a date he’d step forward and kiss her now. For a second she wondered if he would anyway.
‘Thank you for a lovely evening,’ she said, keeping her voice low in the quiet of the night. ‘I can’t remember the last time I had so much fun.’ She was still looking at him, still holding his gaze. Still questioning if he might try to kiss her.
‘You’re welcome. I’ll just make sure you get inside before I go.’