“Oh!” I covered my mouth with one hand as tears sprang to my eyes. “Oh, my God, Giff. I’m so happy for you both. You both deserve so much happiness.”
He sniffed, and I spied suspicious moisture in his eyes, too. “Thank you, sweetness. Now he’s coming back, so pull it together. I don’t want the secret spoiled.”
“Never.” I kissed him again, this time a big smack right on his lips. “But I better be the first person you call after he says yes.”
“Of course, you will be. Beetle will be on his honeymoon, so you might be the only one at first. But you’re my girl, you know.” He rubbed my arm. “I love you, cookie. And I want you to be happy, too. That’s why I’m going to walk away from you right now ... even though you might not want me to go.”
I frowned, confused, as Giff winked at me and turned to intercept Jeff, who was walking our way, carrying my drink. But my bewilderment only lasted a few seconds before another arm, thicker and more muscled, wrapped around my shoulders. I pulled back out of instinct, and then I knew it was Vincent. I smelled the faint, enticing aroma of his aftershave, which was just enough to be pleasant without being overbearing.
“You stayed.”
I pivoted slowly to face him, looking up into those dark eyes. “I said I would.” Pausing, I added, “I almost didn’t. I probably shouldn’t have.”
“But you did.” His fingers brushed over my upper arm, where the short sleeve of my dress gave way to bare skin. “I’m glad you did.”
“Why?” I had to ask, just so I could hear him keep talking. On the other hand, if he said what I was afraid he might, I was potentially putting myself into a position where I’d have to make a hard choice.
“Because I wanted to talk to you. Because I like seeing you, talking to you ...”
“Because you’re thinking we might have a repeat performance of our night together back in August?” I supplied. “Because you’re hoping you could talk me into getting naked with you again?”
“Amanda.” He shook his head. “Did I say that? Did I even hint that I wanted to get you into bed again? I don’t think so.” He quirked an eyebrow. “And you accusedmeof being cocky.”
I rolled my eyes. “Please. You’re trying to tell me if I dragged you off into a dark corner of this restaurant right now and unzipped the back of my dress, you’d turn me down?”
Vincent’s lips curled up into a smile. “I don’t know. Want to give it a shot and find out?”
“No.”Of course I did.“I’m not doing that again.We’renot doing that again. We said one night, and we had one night. Besides which, this is your family’s restaurant. What if someone saw us?”
“Aha, so you would do it ... if this place didn’t belong to my family?” He braced his hand on the column behind me, effectively caging me in with his arm and body. I aligned my spine with the corner and stared beyond him.
“No, I didn’t say that. I was just pointing out the pitfalls in your plan.”
Vincent snorted. “It wasn’t my plan, sweetheart. You’re the one who brought up the idea. I was just asking you to elaborate.”
“There is no plan. No elaboration.” I took a deep breath. “I don’t know why I said that. You’re right, I was making an assumption, and I shouldn’t have. Maybe you were just being friendly, right? You were just being nice to me.”
He laughed softly. “Amanda, I’m not a nice person. Ask anyone who knows me or who works with me—I’m a son-of-a-bitch.”
He had my head spinning, trying to keep up with the twists of this conversation. I decided to go back to the start. “Why did you want me to stay? Why did it matter to you?”
“Hell if I know.” His candor, coupled with the tone of his voice—a mix of frustration and amusement, charmed me all over again. “The truth is that I’ve been dreading seeing you again.”
“Thanks.” I tried to duck under his arm.
“No, wait.” He snagged my hand. “Amanda, let me finish. I was dreading seeing you again, because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since ... well, since that night. And that’s not what I wanted. It’s not what I want. I told you that I don’t do girlfriends and relationships, and I don’t. I’m not interested.”
For some stupid reason, tears blurred my eyes again, for the second time in fifteen minutes—only this time, they weren’t happy ones. I was frustrated and hurt and pissed off at myself for caring what Vincent thought or said.
“Then let me go.” I shook my hand away from his. “Stop messing with me. I never said I wanted those things, either. I’m not looking for anything long-term.”
“That’s what you said,” Vincent agreed. “But you didn’t bring a date tonight. And you asked Giff if I was bringing a date. You cared about it. Which tells me that maybe you’re not being honest with yourself or with me.”
“Oh, really? Now you’re a good judge of honesty, huh?” I crossed my arms over my chest. “And you think you know me that well?”
“Not nearly as well as I’d like to,” he responded, his gaze suddenly sober. “Because if we’re talking about honesty, you should know that when Giff told me that you weren’t bringing anyone to the wedding, I was happy. Relieved. But I was mad at myself for feeling that way.”
I swallowed. “So you’re saying we’re both lying to ourselves?”
