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Relief, or something close to it, seeped through his body. If the media or strangers wanted to believe he was a carefree partier traveling around the world, dating different women, he didn’t care. His family and close friends were another story. Technically, Kiera wasn’t either—at least, not anymore. They hadn’t talked in years. For some reason, though, her opinion still mattered to him.
“That’s a relief.”
Kiera rolled her eyes. “I’m sure you would’ve lost sleep it if I had said something else.”
“Perhaps.”
The slow song ended and another started up.
“Wow, your feet survived that whole dance. I guess I remember more from those dance lessons than I thought.” Kiera turned to head to the edge of the dance floor.
“How about another dance, then?” He kept his eyes on her face—the safest place for them. Or, rather, he tried. His eyes had ideas of their own.
He could honestly say he hadn’t thought of Kiera in years. Even still, he knew she’d be the only thing he thought about tonight and perhaps tomorrow.
“You’re feet are the ones in danger, not mine.” She placed her hands back on his shoulders.
Gray pulled her closer, much closer than during their first dance, and a long-suppressed memory floated up—when he’d seen Kiera as a girl rather than a pal who happened to live on his parents’ estate.
“You’re dad must be happy you’re home. Are you staying long?”
Kiera’s question interrupted his pleasant trip down Memory Lane.
“A few days, maybe more. What about you? Are you just visiting?
“I moved back about a year ago. I loved living with my cousins in France, and working in Paris was incredible, but I missed my family here.”
He got the whole missing family thing, though no one would believe that. “There’s no other city quite like Paris.” He’d traveled to cities around the world and Paris remained one of his favorites.
The song ended and a popular Top Forty hit replaced it, bringing their dance to an end—as well as his excuse for having Kiera in his arms.
“Since we’re both around, why don’t we go for dinner one night?” His dinner dates these days involved business. For a change, he’d like an evening out with a friend.
Kiera’s hands dropped to her sides, his cue to let go of her waist.
A cue his brain failed to follow.
“I’d love to, but I can’t. I’m scheduled at work every night this week.”
“Lunch then?” It took some effort, but he peeled one hand off her waist. He left the other on her lower back as he guided her back to her table.
“That I can do.”
“Excellent. I’ll pick you up Monday at noon.”
Kiera gave him her address, which he had just enough time to put into his phone before the damn thing rang.
“It’s work. I’m sorry, but I need to take this. I’ll see you Monday.” He took the call, but didn’t say hello. He didn’t need to; he already knew who it was.
She nodded. “Twelve o’clock.”
Gray walked away, but cast one more glance in Kiera’s direction, wishing he could dance with her again. Unable to do what he wanted he greeted his boss.
***
Fudge. It couldn’t be eleven-thirty.
Kiera checked the wall clock. Double fudge. It said eleven-thirty, too. Gray was due in thirty minutes, and she hadn’t even stepped in the shower yet. One of these days, she’d learn not to experiment with a new recipe when she had plans.
