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He swallowed. There was an intensity to him that made her feel off-kilter. For a moment, she thought he was going to stand up and walk toward her. Cage her against the cupboard.
Did she want that? Truthfully, she wasn’t sure.
But he didn’t move. Just looked at her with those stupidly attractive eyes. “I got divorced almost two years ago. Long before I came to New York.”
Oh.
“And I never cheated on my wife. Never would. My dad did that to my mom, and I know the devastation it could cause.”
“I’m sorry.” She felt terrible but couldn’t find the words to tell him that. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”
He shook his head. “Whatever.”
“I just… I don’t know. I’m finding this really hard,” she admitted. It was all too much. First Ethan and now Michael. Her feelings were confusing her.
He looked at her again. She couldn’t read his expression at all. “Yeah. I get that.”
She wanted to ask him if he felt the same. If he thought about that night every time he looked at her. If his heart hammered against his chest every time their gazes connected.
But of course he didn’t. What did he call Ethan? A boy? That made her a girl. Of no interest. Inconsequential.
She hated that.
“I’m not a good liar,” she told him, busying herself with the coffee machine.
“Yeah. I can see that.” He lifted a brow.
He was still sitting at the breakfast bar, but he’d turned to look at her. Behind him, the wall of glass doors that led to the yard was dark, the light inside the kitchen turning them into mirrors, making two Michaels – one real, one fake.
“I have a good poker face when I’m not in Hartson’s Creek,” she continued. “In Paris, I could lock things out like the best of them.”
Was he smiling?
“But here it’s like I’ve gone back to being a kid. My parents reading me like a book.” She hated that. She was a grown woman with a career and her own place. She could look after herself.
“Try living with them,” he said, sounding amused.
“No, thank you.” She pressed a button, and the coffee hissed out. Just an espresso. “I tried that for about a week before I went to Uncle Tanner and begged him to rent me a house.” She pulled the little cup from the machine and lifted it to her lips.
“Won’t all that caffeine keep you awake all night?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No. I could probably have three and sleep like a log.”
“Sleep is wasted on the young,” he said dryly.
She grinned. “Do you have trouble sleeping?”
He shrugged. “Sometimes. Mostly because of jetlag right now.”
“It’ll be worse the other way.”
“I know.” He looked at her carefully. “But I have a while before I need to worry about that.”
Grace let out a long breath. This was nice. Just talking. Maybe if they hadn’t messed things up by sleeping with each other, they could have done more of this. She had more in common with him than she did with any of her blood cousins, after all. They both loved Europe, good food… Wine.
And he made her laugh. It wasn’t often that somebody had done that in the last year.
“I should go back outside,” she told him. “Everybody thinks I have a thing going with Ethan and the longer I’m away, the more they’ll think that.” She wrinkled her nose. There’s no way she wanted the wrong kind of gossip going around about her.
