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His lips twitched. “How to set a place setting properly, the importance of a year on a good bottle of wine, ice skating, and pretty much everything you could possibly imagine.”
“So, you were rich, then?”
“Yeah, you could say that,” he admitted.
She nodded.
“You?” he asked after a short silence.
“Not rich. Never was.”
“This house is perfect, though.” He started moving again, sweeping her into her kitchen. “Mine’s too big. I need to move.”
She laughed. “I think it’s perfect.”
“Five bedrooms for one person, when I have no intention of ever adding on to that one person?” He snorted. “It’s too much. I got too cocky when I started out, and I needed a big place to show my success. It was stupid, and I was young. A place like this, in the city, would be much better suited to my needs.”
She nibbled on her lip, dying to ask him whether, if he fell in love with someone, he would walk away, but it was none of her business, really. After he left, the only time she’d see him would be on her television on Sunday afternoons.
“What’s your biggest dream?”
“To dance with Wyatt Hamilton in my living room,” she said immediately. “Oh…wait…guess I need a new dream.”
He laughed shortly. “Yeah, you do.”
“What’s yours?”
“Uh-uh. That one doesn’t count. I want the real one.”
She hesitated. “I guess the opposite of you. Become financially stable. Pay off my house so I’m mortgage free, once I actually buy it—which I’m thinking of doing. I want to live my life, find someone who fits nicely in it, and start a family. Adopt a dog and a cat. Be…happy.”
He said nothing at first, just tightened his grip on her hand, but then he said, “You rent now?”
“Yeah, but the owners want me to buy.” She paused. “I’m considering it.”
“Nice.” He locked eyes with her. “I hope you get all those things you want.”
“Me, too.” She licked her lips, which were way too dry all of a sudden. “What is your biggest dream?”
“To be remembered for the rest of all time as one of the best quarterbacks ever,” he immediately replied. “It’s been my dream ever since I was old enough to throw a ball, and I doubt that’ll ever change.”
She rubbed his back as he danced, their movements slower with each step they took, until they were basically just holding one another and swaying slightly. “I think you’ll get that, Wyatt. That, and more.”
“I hope so,” he murmured, his eyes still on hers. “Kassidy…”
Something charged the air, shooting off sparks, yanking them together bit by bit until there would be nothing left between them but bare skin and sweat. For a second, just one blissful second, he lowered his head, and she swore he was about to kiss her again…
Right until he let go of her, stepping back and dragging his hands down his face. “More champagne?” he asked, his voice slightly higher.
“Yes, please,” she managed to say.
She was going to need it if she was going to survive the night…
With Wyatt Hamilton convinced he couldn’t touch her.
Chapter Seven
Four hours later, they collapsed on her bed, breathing heavily. After they’d danced, they talked for a while, finishing off the bottle of champagne, and then he’d come up with the bright idea to try yoga. Only, it hadn’t been such a bright idea, because every time she twisted and turned and fell, laughing, it had taken all his control not to crawl on top of her and kiss her until that laughter turned into groans and moans of pleasure. He couldn’t touch her. She deserved more than a night in the arms of a playboy like him, one who could never be hers.
