Page 40 of Meant to be Mine

Her hand came up to my jaw. I kept one of my hands on her calf and slid the other one up to the back of her head. My lips brushed hers. She kissed me back, and it felt like something that had been waiting a long time to happen.

When we pulled back, neither of us moved very far. I stared into her eyes. She was my best friend and I wanted that relationship and then some.

“Come to my place?” I asked softly.

I didn’t have to say more. We both knew what I was asking.

She smiled. “I’d love to see your new house.”

Yeah. That’s what she wanted to see.

I pushed the button to speak to the driver and told him to go straight to my address.

14

KENSEY

The limo turned north on PCH but I barely registered it. My lips were still tingling from that kiss. Thinking in general was difficult. Fireworks kept popping in my brain. After years of being just friends, Drew and I had crossed a line we’d never even tiptoed around.

Tension thrummed in the air like lightning was about to strike, and we were both feeling it. Now we were heading to Drew’s home, and I was trying not to think about what would happen once we got there. We were treading completely new ground, and excitement warred with nervousness inside me. No matter how the rest of the night played out, this would be an evening to remember.

The driver slowed and turned off onto a private drive. I pressed closer to the window. Even in the dark I could see the scale of Drew’s house, which sat right on the beach. It was modern and angular, all clean lines and glass, and massive.

“This is my house,” Drew said.

“And you live here all alone?” I asked, shaking my head. “That’s a lot of space for just one man.”

“It is, but I’m not alone tonight.”

The driver pulled up to the front and stopped. Drew got out and extended his hand to me. I took it and stepped out barefoot onto the smooth stone of the drive because I was absolutely not putting those heels back on. Drew keyed in the code at the front door and pushed it open. We walked in and I stopped.

The entry opened directly into the main living space, and the first thing that hit me was the windows. Floor to ceiling, wall to wall, the entire back of the house was glass. And beyond the glass was the ocean, dark and enormous. The view was so overwhelming that for a moment I forgot everything else.

“Wow.”

“Right?” He laughed and walked to a screen on the wall, tapping it a few times. The room was flooded with warm light.

I walked forward slowly, drawn toward the view. The living room was open and spare. A low sectional sofa in a warm cream, a coffee table with dark contrasting chairs on the other side. There were built-in shelves along one wall that were mostly empty. A fireplace in pale stone that ran nearly to the ceiling. But all of that could wait.

I pressed my hand flat against the glass and looked out. The deck ran the full width of the back of the house and then dropped away to the bluff’s edge, where a glass railing stood between the wood decking and the open air. Below that, somewhere in the dark, was the water.

“Can we go out there?” I asked.

“Absolutely,” he said, his voice deep and warm. “Let me get some drinks for us.”

He crossed to the kitchen, which was open to the living space, separated only by a long island in pale marble. The kitchen was extraordinary, with professional-grade appliances. The countertops were more white marble that made everything look so much bigger and brighter. There was a wine fridge built into the lower cabinets and a bar cart tucked against the wall that held more bottles than most people owned.

“What do you want?” he asked, opening a cabinet.

“Whatever you’re having.”

He reached for a bottle of something amber. “Red wine okay?”

“Perfect.”

He poured two glasses and handed one to me. I took a sip. It was good wine. Warm going down, not too dry.

“Come on,” he said.