“Okay.” He nods. “Let me know if you change your mind.”
“Do you want me to move out?” I ask, dreading the answer.
“What? No. Of course not.”
My shoulders slump. “Oh.”
He shakes his head, a half smile curling one corner of his lips. “Anna. Baby. At least I’ll never have to wonder what you’re thinking. It’s all written right there on your face. You’re the least mysterious woman I’ve ever met.”
“I am too mysterious.”
“No,” he says in a definitive voice. “And I can’t tell you what a fucking relief that is. Every woman I’ve ever known has pretty much had me in a constant state of confusion. But not you.”
“I’m not sure this is a compliment.”
“With you, it’s more like a semi-constant state.” He tucks his hands behind his head and relaxes back against them. “A now-and-then sort of thing instead of an endless everyday ‘what the fuck does she mean and why the hell is she mad at me now?’ I actually have a fighting chance at figuring shit out with you. It’s a hell of a thing.”
“You’re rambling. What were we talking about before?”
“I was referring to that time you hit on me.”
I freeze.
“You remember.”
Give me strength. “I could hardly forget.”
“Don’t be embarrassed,” he says, as if it makes everything better. “You were drunk and horny and dealing with a lot. Like, more than most people ever have to deal with in a lifetime. I thought you did quite well keeping your shit together.”
“Thanks,” I say drily.
“We all makes mistakes now and then.”
“Great.”
“And if we’d gotten involved then, it would have been a mistake.” He stares off at nothing, pondering this for a moment. “A big mistake.”
I slide down. I’d disappear if I could. “Right.”
“Huge, even.”
“You’re doing absolutely nothing for my ego.”
“Huh? Oh. Hang in there.” He pats me on the knee and then goes so far as to leave his hand there lingering for a moment. “The point I’m trying to make, Anna, is that that was then and this is now.”
“So?”
“So you should try again,” he announces with a smile.
“What?”
“Try again,” he encourages. “Come on to me.”
I wrinkle my nose in his general direction. He cannot be saying what I think he’s saying. Impossible.
“I told you at the time if you were still interested to proposition me again in a couple of months,” he says, holding his palms out in front of him. “Here we are. Why not give it a go?”
“Because you rejected me?”
“Yeah, but I explained that.”
“Leif,” I say, pausing to take a breath. “You’re offering yourself up here like some game of chance. The only thing is, when I lose at this game it’s not only humiliating, but it hurts.”
“Anna.” His gaze softens. Something about the way he says my name turns me into goo. This man . . . holy hell. “We didn’t talk about it before you tried to kiss me last time so there wasn’t much I could do. But this time, we’ve already got all of our talking out of the way. Do you really think I’d set you up to fail?”
I don’t know what to say. He’s dead serious. And all of a sudden my heart is hammering inside my chest.
“The look on your face this morning killed me,” he says. “But there was no way I was ever going to restart something with Roshuane while there’s something happening between me and you.”
“You’re interested in me?” And I sound so small and fragile. I hate it, but I can’t help it.
“Have I not been chasing your gorgeous ass around for months now?”
I frown. “Have you?”
His brows rise. “Well, I have for me.”
“Huh.”
“Are you coming over here or what?” he asks. “I feel like we need to hug it out. And stuff.”
“And stuff?”
He tips his chin. “C’mon, Anna. Take a chance. I won’t let you fall.”
Never has covering a couple of feet worth of couch been so fraught with danger. So loaded with meaning. Not that I have any real clue what any of this means. Nor am I going to stop to think about it right now. I can overthink things later at my leisure. Right now, I’m a great big freaked-out ball of nerves with a throbbing toe. A hug from Leif sounds wonderful. I no sooner rise up on one knee than he’s grabbed me by the waist and dragged me onto his lap. Only we’re chest to chest this time. I’m sitting straddling his body and what a body it is. His arms wrap around me and I rest my cheek on his shoulder. My breasts press against his firm chest and I’m not going to cry because that would be weird. It just feels like coming home. It’s also just been a big day. A big couple of days. A big year.
“This is better,” he says, letting out a deep breath.