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“So it wasn’t a one-night stand?” Arnold asked, clearly confused.
Liza waved her hand. “No. It was. The kiss came at midnight and that was all it was. Just a kiss.” A kiss that had left her nipples so hard and her panties so damp that she’d left the bar immediately, headed home, and gone three rounds with her vibrator.
“And you didn’t talk to him then either?”
She shook her head.
“Do you want this thing with Matt to be more than a one-night stand, Liza?”
That was the million-dollar question, wasn’t it? And the one that might be moot because…
“The thing is, Matt may have a girlfriend-slash-fiancée.”
“May?” Arnold asked.
“The night after the gala, after we were together, he was photographed at a restaurant with Patricia Eddington.”
The way Arnold crinkled his nose pleased her, grateful to know she and her dear friend were on the exact same page regarding the obnoxious socialite.
“This date happened before the New Year’s Eve kiss?”
Liza nodded.
“I can’t see Matt with Patricia,” Arnold said. “He’s not stupid and he’s not shallow, and a man would have to be both of those to deal with her for any amount of time.”
Liza couldn’t argue with that. “The pictures were on one of those online gossip sites and pretty damning. They looked really chummy.”
Arnold snorted. “You should know better than to believe everything you read in the tabloids. How do you know they were taken when they say they were? They could have been old, rehashed material, used to jazz up a slow news day.”
Liza shook her head. “Patricia was wearing a bracelet that Matt had intended to give her the night of the gala. They had a fight, and she left the Ritz without it. She was wearing it in the pictures.”
Arnold nodded slowly, processing that information. “Did you ask Matt about it? Ask him if he’s in a relationship with her?”
Liza had questioned why Matt and Patricia weren’t together on New Year’s Eve. His response had been vague at best. The problem was that between seven days of restless, horny sleep and consuming three strong-as-shit margaritas over dinner, she hadn’t exactly been firing on all cylinders that night.
Then he’d planted that blow-your-brains-out kiss on her, and her cylinders had shut down completely, total meltdown.
“We’re not exactly…I mean…just because we had sex doesn’t mean…”
Jesus Christ.
Wake up, brain. Formulate a complete thought.
“You don’t think you have a right to question him about who he’s seeing because the two of you aren’t dating,” Arnold said, filling in the blanks succinctly.
“It was just one night. We made no future plans for more dates.”
“But you would like to date him?” Arnold pressed.
Liza shook her head, even though her response to that question wasn’t no. “It would be impossible. He’s a Russo. I’m a Moretti. And while the feud may seem ancient to me, I can assure you my dad, uncles, Tony, and Nonno have very long memories.”
Or at least…they did. Liza considered Gage’s presence at Christmas Eve dessert and realized that wasn’t completely true anymore.
Arnold laced his fingers in front of him, his elbows resting on the arms of the chair. “Take the last names out of the equation. Pretend you’re Liza Smith and he’s Matt Jones. Do you want to date him?”
“I…”
Did she?
