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“Were we having a moment?” His eyes remained lowered, his fingers tight on his fork.
“Damn it, Thomas—”
He leaned across the table and kissed her. His lips were soft, his breathing harsh; he lingered over the kiss, caressing her mouth until her chest tightened. Each touch of his lips spoke of so many things unsaid. So much emotion, showing her what he couldn’t say.
When he drew back, his eyes were warm. “Time, Bree. And a chance.”
“Two weeks.” She bit her lip. “I can give you that.”
His smile was oddly shy, oddly boyish—and it was enough to almost destroy her. “I’ll try to make it worth it.”
They fell into companionable silence over their food. Brianna couldn’t help stealing little glances at him, only to catch his eye, flush, and look away. When they were finished, the waitress brought the check. Brianna reached for her purse, but Thomas covered her hand.
“No. It’s on me.”
She hesitated. On the few dates she’d gone on since Michael, she had paid her way. She could certainly afford to. “I can pay for mine.”
“You can. But tonight you don’t have to.” His fingers slid over the backs of her knuckles, then fell away. “Drop the independent businesswoman act. I’m not patronizing you.”
She hated that, she thought. Hated that he got to the heart of issues she wouldn’t even acknowledge, with so few words. She closed her mouth and looked away as he left a folded stack of bills on the table, then stood and offered his hand.
She slid her palm into his. His skin against hers was electrifying, and her scalp tingled. “Thank you for everything.”
“You’re welcome.” His grip tightened. “Does our two-week agreement mean I don’t have to hold any more articles of clothing hostage if I want to see you again?”
“Depends. How long do you think it’ll take you to recover from Zach’s full moon serenade?”
He snorted. “Please. I’m tougher than that.”
Outside the restaurant, he pulled her into his arms. She caught her breath and looked up at him. His eyes were intent on her, their heat making her melt. She could lose herself in this man, she thought. Lose herself and never come out again—and that was dangerous. So dangerous she’d kept herself from touching him all night, but now she finally let herself run her fingers over his jaw.
His five o’clock shadow scratched her fingertips. How long had it been since she’d felt a man’s rough stubble? He rubbed his cheek against her palm; the velvet brown of his eyes never left her. Her heart lurched. He made her want things she’d thought long out of reach. Made her hope for something more than a life as a grieving widow.
“Want to come up to my room?” he asked, his voice raspy.
God, she wanted to. But would it be the best choice? If they wanted to see if they had something real between them, maybe they should take things slower. Not jump right into bed again. Thomas had asked for time and a chance. But she needed distance. She couldn’t let herself get too invested when they didn’t even know if they were going to be together two weeks from now.
“I do, but I think I shouldn’t.” She took a step back and squared her shoulders. “We need to see if we have something real before we do that. I owe it to myself and my kids.”
He nodded. “All right.”
She took a deep breath. It was harder to say no than she’d expected. Would it really be so bad to get lost in his arms again? “So what comes next?”
The struggle on his face said every word was precious. “We date each other. Take things slow.”
“I have a question.”
He cocked a brow. “You don’t need my permission to ask one.”
Well, duh. She just needed to get the nerve to ask him, since it might be a deal breaker. “If we decide, after two weeks, to take this further…will you be able to stay in Vegas? Is there a way you could move here?”
He hesitated. “They want me to take a position here permanently. I was not interested in it. But if things work out…” He shrugged, his face closed off. “Who knows? I’m not promising long-term yet. I just want to take it slow and see where it goes. All right?”
She hesitated, but he stole her chance to reply. Stole her senses when he pressed his lips to hers, slanting to meld their mouths together in a perfect lock. She shivered and twined her arms around his neck. His hand pressed to the small of her back, possessively drawing her closer. His tongue slipped into her mouth, stroking her gently, exploring with a slow, careful need. She moaned and curled her fingers in his shirt collar, tugging him closer still.
With each caress of his tongue, he seemed to pull her deeper into him, until she no longer remembered how it felt not to be in his arms. By the time he pulled away, she wasn’t sure if her legs would support her. He looked down at her, his eyes heavy-lidded.
“So tell me,” he whispered. “When can I see you again? We could stay in with the kids. Give me a chance to meet them. We’ll tell them I’m a friend—nothing more.”
