“Sure.”
She grabs the bottle. I take the glasses from the minibar and the small package I bought at the airport. She goes straight to the round sofa lounge, climbing on it.
“When I returned, I was half hoping to see you here.”
She gives me a small smile. “I thought about it, but figured you wouldn’t want to see a soul tonight. That you’d need your space to recharge.”
I climb next to her, sitting so close that our arms touch. “I wouldn’t want to see anyone except you.”
She searches my eyes, frowning as if trying to decipher something, then holds up the glasses. I uncork the bottle, pour us each wine.
“Do you want to talk about today?” she asks as we lean back on the couch.
“Not tonight. I like that this place is drama-free. Thank you for making that happen.”
She widens her eyes, then groans. “You saw the magazines.”
“Yeah. I wanted to thank you yesterday but thought bringing the evening up would just make you uncomfortable again. But thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She takes a small sip of wine, sinking lower on the couch.
“What’s wrong?”
“Just residual embarrassment for that night. I’ll get over it. Eventually.”
I turn to her, framing her jaw with my hand, leaning in. “Summer, we’ve been over this.”
A small sound escapes her, somewhere between a chuckle and a choke. “You probably forgot all about it already.”
The gentleman thing would be to tell her I did. But I don’t have the energy to act any longer tonight, and I don’t want to act around her. I want to be honest, and something in her body language tips me off that she needs that honesty.
“I don’t think I’ll ever forget it. The sight of your beautiful body is branded in my brain.”
Her mouth pops open. “But... you said it wasn’t a big deal, that you’d seen plenty of actresses—”
“I was trying to put you at ease.” By the looks of it, I did just the opposite. “You have no idea how hard it was to keep my control, Summer. I wanted you so badly.”
She sucks in a breath. “You did?”
“I still do.”
She parts her lips, her eyes widening with surprise. I bring a hand to her face, caressing her cheek, resting my thumb at the corner of her mouth.
Her skin is so smooth, it spurs a need deep inside me, to touch more of her. To taste her. Would she taste as sweet as I remember? Have I idealized the kiss, the memory growing sweeter, more real the more time we spent together, the more I learned about her?
“I’ve missed you today,” I confess.
“You did?”
“Yeah.”
“So did I. I arrived late at breakfast, and no one saved me muffins.”
“I brought you something.” I pull the small package out of my pocket and take out the necklace with a little key pendant. “I saw it at LAX. It made me think of you.”
“I love it.”
“Let me put it on.”