Page 54 of Colliding with Ten

“Give it,” I warned.

I reached further, stretching across the space, and landed my hand on his. His hand was warm and solid beneath mine. Neither of us expected the contact.

Our eyes met. The restaurant faded as his thumb drew circles against my skin. My mouth went dry, my skin hot under his touch. Then, remembering himself, Lennox relaxed his hand and slid the book back to me. I pulled it, not breaking his gaze.

He smiled, eyes warm. “At least now I know what kind of books you read. I figured you for a classic literature type. But this is a choice. Not a choice I’m judging by the way, in case you were wondering.”

That was surprising. Most men would have been grossed out. “This never happened.”

He leaned back, grinning. “Oh, it happened.”

We laughed at how the day had turned. We’d gone from strangers to sharing intimate details in hours. As we caught our breath, his eyes lingered, and my stomach flipped. I wanted to throw out a clever quip, anything to distract myself from what was happening.

But what exactly was happening? My heartbeat tripped over itself, words stuck between my chest and throat. This was the best time I’d had in ages, and I tried not to dwell on it.

We finished the last of the soup and sushi. I suggested heading back to my gate before the next announcement. He waved down the server as I reached for my wallet.

“Don’t even think about it,” he said, handing over his card. “You can pay for my therapy bill later. You owe me for the emotional damage from that book.”

I groaned, then laughed. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“Not a chance. But it’ll remain between us.”

“Like a secret?”

“Exactly.”

“We have secrets?”

“We do now.” He gave me a meaningful look.

When we stepped out, the crowds were thinner. He slung my duffel over his shoulder and wheeled my carry-on, slowing his pace so I could keep up. Every few steps, our shoulders touched, making it harder to focus on anything else.

“You ever dance alone anymore?” he asked.

I glanced up at him. “What do you mean?”

“Dancing by yourself. Just for you.”

His voice was low, almost lost under the sound of rolling luggage. I thought before answering. “Not lately.”

He nodded, thoughtful.

I hit an uneven spot in the floor.

His hand caught my lower back, steadying me. “Easy.”

Butterflies fluttered within me. By the time we reached the gate, my heart was racing too fast for the short walk. I tried to settle back into the same corner, leg elevated on my bag, but nothing felt right. I kept moving.

“Still uncomfortable?” he asked.

“I’ll live.”

He frowned. “Put your leg on mine.”

“What? No. That’s weird.”

“No, it’s not.”