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“It doesn’t matter what color you wear,” he said in a low voice, his eyes suddenly burning a brighter blue than my dress could ever be. “You’d stop a man in his tracks anywhere.”
“Please,” I scoffed, but he stopped me with a shake of his head and a sly half grin.
“Well, you stopped me, didn’t you?”
Before I could reply to that, Brandon grabbed my hand and led me into the restaurant, where he gave his name to the hostess. She batted her eyes coquettishly at him and gave me a look that was pure jealousy before guiding us to a table in the back patio.
The restaurant was busy, full of parents here before graduation and older students and faculty celebrating the end of the term. Brandon pulled out my chair before taking a seat across from me. I took in the charming space, which was lined with potted plants and scattered with wrought iron tables.
“Scotch?” Brandon asked.
I gulped. I was still feeling the after-effects of drinking way too much the night before, but there was no way I could get through this lunch sober. “I’ll just have a glass of the rosé, please,” I said to the hostess.
“And whatever local IPA you have on tap,” Brandon added. “Thanks.”
The hostess batted her eyelashes again while she handed us our menus, then sashayed off with a distinct sway of her backside. I looked up to find Brandon’s deep-blue eyes pinned squarely on me, not having even noticed the obvious show for his benefit. He raised an eyebrow, then lowered his gaze to the menu.
We both studiously ignored each other while placing our orders with the waiter—a Cobb salad for me, and a pastrami sandwich for Brandon. Once we’d been served our drinks, Brandon watched with amusement as I quickly gulped down nearly half the sweet, chilled wine in one go.
“Something on your mind, Red?” he asked with a chuckle.
I pursed my lips. “Why do you ask?”
“Well,” he said, leaning forward as if to whisper a secret to me. “You did ask me here.”
God, he smelled good. I had almost forgotten that amazing scent of his—a mix of expensive soap, almonds, and a tinge of metal, the remnant of his secret hobby that was a dead giveaway to his gentlemanly façade. For a second, I wanted to leap over the table and bury my face in his neck right there in front of the entire restaurant. I’d rip open his shirt so I could get my hands on the washboard abs I knew were hiding under those buttons and have my way with him until he was completely out of my system.
Whoa. That escalated fast. Momentarily dizzy, I focused on getting that image out of my brain and took another large gulp of wine to ground myself.
“I just…I felt bad,” I said lamely. “About the way things ended. And I wanted to thank you for this.” I pulled the white jewelry box out of my purse and pushed it across the table. “It’s beautiful. It really is. But you know I can’t accept it, Brandon.”
“And…there it is,” Brandon replied dryly. He looked at the box, but made no move to take it. “Come on, Red, let’s not start that bullshit again, all right?”
“I don’t want to give you the wrong idea.” Did he not understand how hard it was for me to do this?
All signs of a smirk disappeared from his handsome features, and Brandon set his beer down and leaned across the table. Both hands took mine gently, and he brushed his thumbs lightly across my knuckles.
“This isn’t like the Tiffany garbage or that stupid trip to Paris, Red,” he said. “It’s not even like the piano, which I meant well, but didn’t really know anything about. This is personal. I had this made especially for you because the artist’s work reminded me of you. It’s strong and solid like you are. But it’s beautiful, and that’s because its imperfections make it so unique. Whether or not I ever convince you what I know—what Iknowin my heart, Skylar, to be true, that we’re fucking meant for each other—I want you to have it. Call it your graduation gift from your old boss if it makes you feel better, but I’m not taking it back.”
He released one of my hands and used his free hand to open the box and take out the bracelet, which he immediately pressed onto my other wrist. I watched, transfixed, as his fingers lingered over the delicate skin of my inner palm. Eventually, he released that hand as well.
“Better,” Brandon said, sitting back again and taking a drink of beer.
Before I could reply, the waiter arriving with our food. Having skipped breakfast in the wake of my hangover, I realized I was famished, and dug in immediately. It was several minutes before either of us slowed down enough to talk again.
Brandon seemed content enough to make small talk through the rest of the meal, allowing me to avert my gaze when his burning one was too much to bear. He asked politely about school, about my family, and about where I was planning to work when I was finished.
“I, ah…” I wasn’t actually sure I should tell him.
“Will it be Kieran’s firm or the D.A.’s office?” he asked after polishing off the rest of his sandwich.
My mouth dropped open, making him grin.
“Friends in high places, Red,” he said. “So, which is it going to be? They’d both be damn lucky to have you, although if I had my way, you’d still be the newest litigator at Sterling.”
I finished my last bite of salad and pushed the plate to the side. “Well, if you must know, I’ll be leaving Boston right after graduation.” The decision came out of my mouth before I even knew I’d made it. “I’m taking the job with the district attorney.”
Brandon looked at me with a strange expression: pride mixed with sadness. His blue gaze shot like a laser to the center of my heart, where I thought I had done a good job of patching up the breaks. Brandon Sterling definitely still had the ability to cut to the quick of me with just one look.
