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He followed her instruction as she gave him her key card to get into the complex, and then her door opener to access her private garage.
He didn’t immediately pull in.
With the car running but not moving, he turned to her. “You don’t feel awkward about this?”
“No, but since you apparently do, maybe we should talk about it?” She just wanted him inside. With her. Putting his mark on her home, just as he’d done so thoroughly all over her.
“I’m a man, Kace. You’re a beautiful woman...”
He wasn’t used to her lifestyle. She got that. But he wasn’t a prude, either. He was telling her something important.
She wasn’t ready to pay attention.
“At the moment I appear to be a frigid beautiful woman, remember?”
He turned off the car.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
IT WAS A good idea, sitting out on the balcony, which was more like a lovely little room off the kitchen that just happened to have an open wall that looked over the city below. There was even a carpet beneath his shoes. He’d never seen indoor-outdoor carpeting in lavender before.
And he’d never seen anything as strikingly beautiful as Kacey Hamilton looked to him that night. She’d changed out of her dress into a pair of leggings and a long-sleeved fleece shirt—a short one, and figure hugging, but it covered the sliver of skin that so often showed at her midriff.
She might think that there was no danger in them spending the night together. Even in separate bedrooms. But he knew better.
He’d definitely fallen in lust with her, but there was no way that he’d act on the feelings. He’d die before he’d betray Kacey.
He also couldn’t quit pretending to himself. She’d changed out of Doria’s clothes, taken off Doria’s makeup, and he wanted her even more. Probably always had. But until Doria had opened the door, he’d never allowed temptation inside.
And there was always the chance that his desire was only on overdrive because he was in LA. Because he’d been posing as her date. He’d had a hard night and she’d helped. He’d seen her, in person, in that dress. Smelled her flowery scent. Been so close to her warmth.
Had her clinging to his arm.
Whispering in his ear...
“Sara tells me that Willie has befriended a couple of younger kids at the Stand,” he said into the quiet that had fallen between them as they sat and contemplated the night. She’d poured herself a second glass of wine and said something about being safe to do so since her mentor was there—a guarantee that she wouldn’t overindulge.
He was indulging in a shot of bourbon. Only one. He had to be able to trust himself completely.
And drive if he had to get the hell out of there.
“He has? Oh, Michael, that’s so great. Just what we were hoping for!”
We. Damn, that sounded good. We as in him and her?
“Do you know who?” she asked before he could formulate his next great conversation starter.
He’d taken off his jacket and tie but was still wearing his tux pants and white shirt. He had only brought sleep pants plus a suit for the morning.
“Joel and Miguel,” The ten-and twelve-year-old boys had both been at the Stand for more than a month. “Neither of them were joining in activities. Just hanging close to their moms, watching over them. Miguel has a couple of little sisters, too.”
Kacey nodded. “His mom is Juanita, right? She’s in my class.”
“Right.” He nodded. “I think you have Joel’s mom, too. Molly Rayne.”
She nodded. Smiled. Laid her head back. Her wineglass, held in both hands, rested on her stomach.
He didn’t let his gaze dwell there.
