“Because I learned my lesson about hanging out with my brother’s friends,” she muttered.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. Look, I’ve had a craptastic night. I’m very sorry for being rude. There was no cause for that. I’m pissed off and you were the most readily available target. I thank you for your help with my brother. Now I’m sure you had your own New Year’s plans that he interrupted, so you’re welcome to go on back to them.”
She didn’t look at him during that little speech. It was so uncharacteristic of the girl he remembered, he felt compelled to push.
“Why do I get the feeling that there’s something else going on here apart from the fact that Rick screwed up your date?”
Gemma took a bracing breath and let it out slow. “I didn’t expect…this.”
“Didn’t expect what?”
She waved an impatient hand in his general direction. “You.”
What the hell was that supposed to mean?
He took a step toward Gemma and watched her neatly sidestep him, reaching reflexively for the wine bottle and corkscrew to occupy her hands. She still wouldn’t meet his eyes. His gaze skimmed down to the hollow of her throat, where he noted her pulse fluttering madly. The realization hit him like a Mack truck.
“You’re nervous,” he said in wonder. “I make you nervous.” Temper faded as he fought the smile that tugged as his lips.
She gave an irritated snort that he took as confirmation and neatly ripped off the foil covering the cork.
“You never used to be nervous around me.”
A burst of self-deprecatory laughter escaped her. “Oh God, if you believe that, then I deserved an Oscar back then.”
“What? Really?” He mentally replayed his memories of her, searching for signs of nerves.
She lifted the bottle, one hand on the embedded corkscrew, and held it like some kind of shield as she turned to face him, eyes fixed somewhere in the vicinity of his left shoulder. “You used to terrify me.”
Used to? Aaron wondered. “I knew you had a little crush. It was sweet.”
Gemma turned those winter gray eyes on him then and stared. “Sweet,” she repeated, a world of insult vibrating in that one word.
Okay, there’s a sensitive spot, he thought. “Is that what this is about? What happened that summer?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” She set down the wine, unopened, and turned to stare fixedly out the window.
“I think we should talk about it. Clear the air. I don’t want things to be weird between us, Gemma.”
“What does it matter if things are weird between us?”
“Because we used to be friends.”
She snorted again.
“Well, sort of,” he amended. “Look, there’s no reason to let that amazing outfit of yours go to waste. Let’s go out, see what we can salvage of the night. Let me buy you some dinner, a drink, and let’s deal with…whatever this is. Please.”
She pinched the bridge of her nose and huffed out a frustrated breath. “Fine. I might as well complete my mortification by talking about it and actually exorcising this demon.”
“Look at it this way, if it doesn’t work, you can go back to avoiding me.”
Gemma cocked her head and flashed a glimmer of a smile. “There is that. Let me get my coat.”
~*~
The place was a joint in the best sense of the word. Somewhere in Midtown, it was hidden and small, with no discernible name on the outside of the old, painted brick building. The interior was packed to the gills with patrons enjoying a wide variety of Memphis cuisine along with the live music pumping hot and moody from the tiny stage. The hostess led them to a high top table, where they ended up jammed elbow to elbow so that they could hear each other speak. That didn’t do a damn thing for Gemma’s nerves. She looked on the upcoming conversation like a root canal. Painful and necessary, and hopefully an experience never to be repeated. She was still cursing herself for being so affected by him. In all the daydreams she’d had about seeing h