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Hannah had never eaten pizza out of a box before she’d met Adam.
Hannah had never kicked off her shoes or sprawled on the office floor.
She wasn’t sure she’d even known how to relax before he’d arrived in the company, but those late-night work sessions had fast become the favorite part of her day. She looked forward to being overloaded just so that she could have an excuse to stay after everyone else had left.
They’d worked, they’d shared food and they’d talked. There was something about being in the nighttime stillness of the office cocooned by the glitter of the city outside that made it easy to say things she never would have said in other circumstances.
One night he’d confessed that his aunt had insisted he learn ballroom dancing because she thought it was an essential life skill.
He’d insisted on teaching Hannah.
Everyone should be able to dance the tango, McBride.
I don’t dance, Kirkman.
But somehow, with him, she’d danced barefoot around the empty pizza boxes.
It was ridiculous, but she’d ended up laughing so hard she couldn’t breathe.
And that was how intimacy happened, she thought, watching as he took a mouthful of his drink. Not in a giant leap, but step by gentle step, each movement forward as stealthy as the incoming tide. One minute you were standing alone on dry land and the next minute you were in over your head and drowning.
Light wings of panic fluttered across her skin. If she could have fastened those wings to her back, she would have flown away. For some people, fear was a dark alley at night or a growling dog with sharp teeth. For her, it was intimacy.
Maybe he thought he loved her, but she knew that whatever she had to offer, it wouldn’t be enough.
A crash and a curse dragged her out of her thoughts and she saw a woman trying to wrestle her case into the overhead bin.
Adam stood up to help, using his superior height to wedge it into place.
Hannah saw the woman’s eyes linger on his profile and then slide to his shoulders. A faint smile acknowledged this prime specimen of manhood, and then she turned and registered Hannah’s presence. Her smile went from interested to resigned. Hannah could almost see her thinking all the good ones are taken.
“When are you going to tell Beth about us?” Adam sat down again. “Not that I mind being your dirty little secret, but it would be a lot easier if you told them. I could come to dinner with you. I’m great with kids.”
Hannah hoped he would still feel that way if it turned out she was pregnant.
He stretched out his legs again. “We’ve been virtually living together for the past six months. You can’t hide me forever.”
Six months? “I’m not hiding you.”
Prior to Adam, her longest relationship had been two months. Eight weeks. It was a time frame that suited her. Hannah preferred to focus her efforts on things she excelled at. Relationships fell outside that category.
With Adam, it had been different.
The connection had been so powerful she hadn’t known how to handle it. At first their only interaction had been at work. She couldn’t recall who had made the first move.
The first time they’d had sex had been in his apartment. They hadn’t made it as far as the bedroom. The second time had been at hers, and that time they’d made it as far as the floor of her living room. She’d assumed that urgency would fade, but some days they didn’t even pause for conversation. It was as if everything they held back in public during their working day demanded to be released the moment they were in private. Twice in the past week they’d made love standing up in the entryway with the lights still on. Part of her had wondered why sex with Adam always felt desperate. Maybe because in her head she believed it was going to end soon.
Everything ended, Hannah knew that, and yet here they were, six months later.
She shifted in her seat.
If she was pregnant, she’d know, surely? Weren’t women usually sick?
She didn’t feel sick.
As the plane’s engines screamed ready for takeoff, Adam finished his drink. “If you’re going home to your family this Christmas, I should be there.”
“To cause trouble?”
