CHAPTER 3

SERENA was sure someone, somewhere, had put a lot of time and thought into creating the right ambience for the restaurant, but the surroundings were wasted on her. She couldn’t focus on anything outside of the intimate booth she and David shared.

The table for two was small enough that they could easily hold hands without having to reach for each other, not that they would be holding hands. Or touching each other at all, except for occasional accidents, such as his legs brushing hers under the table as they had just now. She almost jumped, her nerves taut with awareness.

His knee bumping mine is not sexy.

No, but the memories she had of their limbs intertwined beneath tangled sheets certainly were.

David leaned back against the richly upholstered bench opposite hers. “I know what I want. What about you, Serena?”

As with three-quarters of the comments he’d made on the drive to the restaurant, she couldn’t tell if he intended his words to have a double meaning, or if she simply had a one-track mind. His tone was innocent enough, which in and of itself was immediate cause for suspicion.

“I haven’t decided.” The menu in its embossed burgundy cover gave her something to hide behind when she worried her one-track thoughts would be revealed on her face.

After the time she’d taken in her office to adjust to his presence, the ride to the restaurant had been more relaxed than their initial encounter. His cologne was still driving her crazy—to say nothing of her preoccupation with his hands as he’d fiddled with the air vents and shifted gears—but she’d enjoyed being in his company. By the time he’d moved to Boston, they’d been friends long enough to have developed their own conversational rhythm, following each other’s thoughts, knowing when it was safe to heckle the other about something and what subjects were more sensitive. So talking to him in the car hadn’t been difficult. They’d discussed Inventive Events at length, and David’s enthusiasm for her small but spunky business endeared him to her even further.

Now that she thought about it, her job had monopolized conversation, and she still wasn’t clear on what work-related project had brought David to town. But, after dating an artist who was a minor celebrity in public opinion and a major celeb in his own, it had been gratifying for someone to show so much interest in what she did for a living. Her father, James, firmly believed there were more dignified ways to earn an income—ones that would probably reflect better on him—and certainly steadier incomes to be earned, given her education. Whenever Serena mentioned her company to him, he got a pained look on his face that she recognized from childhood.

It was the same one he’d always given her mom.

“Serena?”

She jerked her head up from a list of pasta entrées she hadn’t been reading. “Still looking.”

“No, I just wondered if everything was all right.” David frowned. “You seemed…troubled.”

“My mind wandered for a second. As seldom as I see James and Meredith, you had the bad luck to catch me on a week when I have.” She knew her father was genuinely making an effort these days, but she’d honestly be glad when his early-June wedding to Meredith McPherson was behind them. With luck, he’d just go back to ignoring Serena. “Sorry. Guess not enough time’s passed for me to have sufficiently detoxed from the visit.”

“Oh.” The lines of worry in David’s expression eased. “That’s a relief.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Not that I’m relieved by any trouble you’re having with your family, just that I was concerned I might have upset you. I suddenly felt like maybe I’d strong-armed you into dinner.”

Serena laughed. “You mean because you traveled across all those states, told me you wouldn’t accept no for an answer and wouldn’t even let me take my own car?”

“Is that all?” He flashed a grin. “It seemed worse in my head.”

A moment later, he asked, “You want to talk about it? James and Meredith, I mean.”

“No.” She’d vented to David before, but not usually face to face. Besides, the last time she’d discussed her father with someone—her yoga-instructor friend Alyson—she’d ended up feeling whiny and disgusted with herself. “Big no.”

David glided to the next logical topic. “Heard from Tricia lately?”

The mention of her adventurous, live-life-to-the-fullest mother made Serena feel surprisingly wistful, and she shook her head. “She and her latest lover, Miguel, are communing with South American nature far from the nearest modem or cell phone roaming area.” Her mom, who hadn’t had time to visit Serena in over a year, would have liked Patrick—they had the same respect for following “spiritual journeys.” And the same inability to be there for someone else.

When the waiter arrived, Serena ordered a fettuccine plate. David, the carnivore, selected a New York strip.

“Very good.” The waiter jotted down notes about side dishes and how to prepare the meat. “And you’re sure you wouldn’t like to see a wine list? We have a fabulous house chardonnay.”

“Yes!…No.” Serena was a bit too emphatic in her assurance, and she pretended not to see David’s grin at her speedy response. “Yes, I’m sure that no, I don’t need anything to drink.”

They hadn’t had nearly enough alcohol last summer to blame their indiscretions on impaired judgment, but the last thing she needed right now was something that lowered her already half-mast inhibitions. David’s eyes alone triggered stabs of yearning in her. Would it really be so bad to ditch her inhibitions for the night? she asked herself as the waiter ambled to the next table.

Ending her dry spell with David, then sending him safely back to Boston with a quick kiss goodbye and a promise to stay in touch was tempting.

But dangerous, too. How willing was she to risk their friendship? Though she had friends, few had known her as long or as well as David. He was…special. Obviously her family wasn’t ever going to be her main source of comfort and stability.

Newsflash, her libido informed her. There’s more to life than stability.

Ignoring the way her inner muscles clenched whenever David happened to touch her, she reminded herself that one night together had already changed their relationship. Her powerful and conflicting emotions now were a perfect example. She didn’t want things to unravel further. Among the many topics they discussed, she and David often mentioned their love lives, and before last summer, she’d never felt jealous. Well, hardly ever. But in the past few months, mention of that Tiffany person had given Serena far more of a twinge than had Patrick staying with an old girlfriend when he’d passed through New Mexico.

A self-sufficient woman, Serena did best in relationships where she and her partner could be alone together, as contradictory as that sounded. Yet, when David had gone back to Boston after his last visit, she’d missed him. A lot. In an uncomfortably needy, vulnerable way.

So the answer to your question, she told her libido, is yes. It would be that bad to ditch the inhibitions.

She might not have many, but for tonight she was clinging to them. Even she—a woman who hadn’t been with a man in months, a woman who had listened enviously to the erotic details of Alyson’s tantric sex life—could keep her willpower intact for one night. With any luck, the next time Serena saw David she’d be safely involved with someone who had put an end to her sexual drought.

She set down the water she’d been sipping; her thirst wasn’t what needed to be quenched. “So, what exactly brings you to Atlanta this weekend? I missed the specifics while we were trying to figure out where to turn.”

“I saved the best news for last.” He surprised her by lightly brushing his hand over hers. Little pinpricks of heat shimmered up her arm. “You’re looking at Atlanta’s newest resident. AGI’s moving its corporate headquarters here, and I’m heading up the advance team.”

Moving? To her city? Within driving distance of her bedroom?

“Y-you aren’t going back to Boston?”

“Well, yeah, temporarily. This is an exploratory visit. I’ll be here through Tuesday, then go back to tie up all the loose ends. But after that, you may be seeing a lot of me.”

Did she get to pick which parts?

Her willpower, which had been prepared for the demanding but blessedly short-lived sprint through a single intimate evening, now cramped at the thought of the endurance required for the long haul. She searched her mind for something that would help. “So…where does Tiffany fall on the ‘loose ends’ spectrum?”

His eyes widened. “Tiffany? Why would you ask about her?”

“Friendly curiosity. Isn’t she your girlfriend?”

“That’s a much more popular misconception than I realized,” he mumbled. “No, she isn’t. She apparently thought she was. Until she left me earlier this week.”

“You were ditched by someone you weren’t even dating?” Serena chuckled. “And I thought my getting dumped was pathetic.”

“Dumped? You’re kidding. I assumed you finally called things off because you were tired of carrying on an exciting affair with postcards.”

He made a good point. Why hadn’t she ended the going-nowhere relationship?

Patrick possessed a fair amount of charisma, but that had been wearing thin even before he’d left town. She’d been philosophical about her lack of enthusiasm, though. None of the men she’d spent time with in the last nine months had caused much zing inside her. Without meaning to, without even realizing it until after the fact, she’d fallen into the dating equivalent of, “Why change the channel? Nothing else good is on.”

David leaned back as the waiter set down their plates, then asked as soon as the man walked away, “What did happen, exactly? With you and the Wanderer?”

“He was searching for inspiration. Apparently, it’s in Yuma.” She twirled pasta around her fork. “He’s staying.”

“I thought this whole roving-the-country thing was a chance to—help me out here?”

“‘Soak up myriad experiences and settings and return triumphant, synthesizing them into his work,’” she recited.

“Uh-huh. So, no synthesizing?”

Was it too late to tell the waiter she’d changed her mind about having a drink? “Yes. He’ll just be synthesizing in Yuma. He told me I was welcome to visit him, but Atlanta was ‘asphyxiating his art.’”

David’s lips twitched. “It can breathe in Arizona?”

“I hear they have good air there.”

He focused intently on his plate while he cut his steak into tiny pieces, all the while biting hard on his lower lip.

“Oh, just get it over with,” she ordered, fighting a giggle herself. “Go ahead and laugh.”

He did.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure he’s a gifted artist,” David said, more magnanimous than he’d ever been when she was actually dating Patrick. “Lousy boyfriend, though. I never could figure out why you stayed with him.”

That was par for the course—David hadn’t exactly been drinking buddies with anyone she’d dated. The reverse was also true, though. From the preppie ex-prom queen Student Housing had placed Serena with to the string of cool blondes from family money she’d watched David date, most of his romantic choices made her cringe. Did he really have fun with those women? Come to think of it, he was probably asking himself the same thing about her and Patrick.

How could she explain that in some selfish way, the absentee relationship had been ideal? She’d been able to combat loneliness by being “involved,” yet she’d never had to give up her side of the bed. She hadn’t even shaved her legs unless she felt like it.

She shrugged. “My line of work, I’m pretty busy during the prime weekend dating hours, so I didn’t mind his being gone that much. I could call him if I needed to talk and still got gifts on my birthday and major holidays. Few of the hassles of a normal relationship, all the benefits. Except fantastic sex.”

David set down his fork and studied her for a long, electric moment. The humor they’d shared evaporated beneath the heat in his gaze. “You know, Serena, there are guys who could give you the friendly ear, birthday cards and space to do your job…and the fantastic sex.”

Her willpower whimpered.

* * *

DAVID’S provocative words were still fresh in Serena’s mind when she woke up bright and early Saturday morning. Well, not “woke up,” exactly, since that implied she’d actually fallen asleep sometime during the steamy night. Steamy partly because of her own thoughts, and also because when she’d tried to turn on the air-conditioner for the first time this season, she’d discovered it didn’t work. Good thing she’d turned down David’s request to see her home—what heat that would have generated!

After he’d taken her to pick up her car, he’d asked if she was sure she didn’t want him to follow her home. His gesture, though sweet, was totally unnecessary. She might not live in the most upscale part of town, but it wasn’t dangerous. Not nearly as dangerous as risking his being near her apartment or her ever-weakening willpower.

Which begged the question—why had she agreed to his picking her up here this morning?

Light spilled through the arched window at the other end of the loft’s railing, and she blinked, wondering how he’d talked her into helping him apartment hunt.

He’d lulled her into a false sense of security, she told herself as she stood under the revitalizing spray of the shower. During dinner, his sexually charged comments had tapered off just enough so that when he’d announced that he’d naturally want her input as an Atlanta resident while he shopped for apartments, she’d agreed.

Did he really catch you so off guard, or were you just happy for the excuse to spend more time with him?

Ignoring the skeptical inner voice, Serena worked her blue cypress bar into a lather and ran it over her skin. The natural soap was supposed to be soothing to body and spirit, but after a sleepless night of rebellious fantasies and aching memories, she too easily imagined David’s hands running over her slick body instead of her own. His wet fingers slipping along the curve of her hip, the smooth slide of her thigh…With a tight groan, she flipped the faucet control to Cold and rinsed quickly before pulling back the shower curtain.

If he could resume their friendship with no signs of awkward unease, so could she. In fact, keeping their relationship platonic was her idea. She couldn’t risk the possibility of ruining their friendship, no matter how badly she’d wanted him last night and still did this morning.

Sure, opposites attracted. Notice how there was no equally famous saying about opposites settling down and living happily ever after. James and Tricia had demonstrated vividly what happened when two very different people moved beyond the attraction and into the bitter divorce stage. Although there had been painful times when Serena’s parents had used their daughter as a weapon to hurt each other, at least she could take comfort in knowing she’d learned from their mistakes. The mere possibility that her friendship with David could one day end with the same sort of spiteful contempt as her parents’ marriage made her stomach clench in dread.

But she knew he was interested in being more than buddies.

When she’d first e-mailed him to say their making love had been a one-time fluke, he hadn’t seemed thrilled with her decision. Given his history of persevering until he got what he wanted—whether it was a class schedule with every course he’d desired to the most sought-after girl on campus to his number-one job pick—Serena wouldn’t have been surprised last night if he’d pushed her to change her mind. Instead, he’d made comments, such as the remark about her finding a man who could take care of her sexual needs as well as her emotional ones, but then he’d moved to safer topics.

By the time he’d driven her back to her car, she was almost wishing he’d just address their single night together directly so she had reason to reiterate her never-gonna-happen-again stance. But he hadn’t broached it, and she wasn’t about to bring it up first. Not when it was taking everything in her to keep it from happening again.

She ran a towel over her hair in a cursory gesture that wouldn’t really do anything to keep it from drying in whatever wild curls it chose. Serena actually liked it that way. She couldn’t imagine the time and care Alyson took plaiting her long red hair in all those elaborately braided styles. Besides, when your hair was already messy, you never let the threat of disarray keep you from enjoying something like the breeze off a lake or an afternoon jaunt in a convertible with the top rolled down.

Dressed in a pair of pink capris, an oversized T-shirt covered in sketched portraits by a local artist and a pair of vintage sandals, Serena headed downstairs, her heart rate accelerating as she realized David would be here soon. She’d told him that management offices for most places wouldn’t open until nine, but he’d insisted on buying her breakfast first to thank her for giving up her Saturday.

Certainly helps save on groceries. The free meals came at a fortuitous time. With the recent lull in business, it was nice to have dinner out without worrying about funds, but it was a forcible reminder that she and David lived different realities. It wasn’t just the finances, though, or their upbringings; they moved in opposing cultural circles. He went to the opera, she went to local bars to hear her struggling guitarist friend. David had gone for his MBA with the determination to make even more of himself than his birthright gave him, and Serena had studied business to get a good idea of what the rules were before she broke them.

When he’d kissed her last summer, she’d been stunned. There’d always been the occasional flirtatious undercurrent to their conversations, but until that day and the surprising sparks that had combusted between them, she hadn’t truly thought he was attracted to her. Romantically, they didn’t make sense. As friends, he could tease her good-naturedly about the artistic way she’d decorated her various apartments because he didn’t have to live in any of them, and she could cluck her tongue over the hellacious hours he worked because she wasn’t one of the girlfriends he cancelled on to do so—she’d had enough of that on the weekends her father was supposed to take her, thank you very much.

Even without the excruciating ordeal of her parents’ divorce, Serena had enough sense to know she wasn’t David’s type. That Tiffany he’d started mentioning a few months ago sounded perfect for him. Yes, but she’s in Boston, and they broke up. You are here with David.

The knock at the door was a merciful interruption. She might be spending the day with David, but only because she was doing a favor for a friend. No different than spending a day with Alyson.

Except she didn’t fantasize about Aly.

She crossed the hardwood floor, away from the windows and toward the door that opened into what had once been a junior-high hallway. In the part of the building where they’d housed the management offices, there were still some of the original lockers.

“Morning.” David greeted her with a smile and a white paper sack that emanated delicious aromas. He looked even more delicious.

“You brought breakfast.”

“I told you I was going to,” he answered, shifting his weight from foot to foot, as though wondering why he was still standing in the hall.

“Yes, but I thought…” Crowds, onlookers, public ordinances against her ripping off his long-sleeved red T-shirt and Dockers. She really, really needed to talk to the super about fixing her air-conditioning. “I’m sorry, come in.”

He entered, but didn’t head for the green-and-rose kitchen that sat below her loft-style bedroom at the other end of the apartment. Instead, he paused, glancing at her with those unbelievable sky-blue eyes. “I hope you don’t mind my making a unilateral decision, but I saw that breakfast burrito vendor you liked so much was still in business and figured it would be a fun surprise.”

“You are just full of those,” she muttered.

His gaze held hers. “You aren’t exactly predictable yourself, Serena.”

Was he referring to the fact that they’d made love, or the fact that she was adamantly opposed to it happening again? Less adamantly every second that passed, she admitted to herself. Her body had remained in a ripe, sensitized half-aroused state ever since he’d set foot in her office yesterday, and now she wondered if she would have made things easier on herself if she’d tried to alleviate some of this building pressure when she’d been in the shower. Too late now.

Unless she asked him to help alleviate it.

She swallowed, then jerked her thumb over her shoulder toward the forest-green countertop of the breakfast bar that served as a room divider. “I—I have juice in the fridge. I might even have some coffee.”

He grimaced, but his gaze was still affectionate. Heatedly so. “No offense, but your coffee’s horrible. I grabbed some on the way over.”

Pivoting on the blocky high heel of one sandal, she told herself she’d scarf down her food and get them out of here.

David followed at a slower pace, taking in the surroundings. “You’ve changed some stuff.”

“Here and there. I wanted some new decorative touches, but the major furniture’s all the same.” Good thing she was skilled at creatively redecorating on a budget. And the orange-framed acrylic pieces she had on display not only livened up the high white walls, they allowed her to help her friend Craig without it seeming too much like charity.

“Glad to see you still have the couch,” David told her, his voice husky with remembrance.

She froze reaching for juice, caught between the heat of her own memories and the welcoming blast of cold air that came from the fridge. Even now, every moment she and David had spent together that night was as vivid as her favorite Matisse painting—they’d barely shut the front door behind them when David had pulled her into that first startling, sizzling kiss. Then, when they’d managed to shimmy out of the majority of their sodden clothes, they’d made it as far as the bright purple velour sofa.

She struggled for a light tone, not daring to look out in his direction. “Oh, come on. You always made fun of that couch.”

When he spoke again, his voice was so close, she jumped. “I’ve developed a new appreciation for it.”

Straightening fast enough to give herself a head rush, she clutched the gallon of orange juice to her and leveled a reproachful glance in his direction. “You startled me.”

“Sorry.” He grinned. “I didn’t exactly tiptoe in here, so you must’ve really been lost in thought.”

The tiny room that she’d decorated to be evocative of a garden was nowhere near big enough for her, David and her peace of mind.

“If you want to have a seat,” she suggested, “I can bring the juice out.”

He took a step—in the wrong direction—and shrugged. “I like being in here.”

Leaning past her, bringing his body so close it almost brushed hers, he stretched up to open the cabinet over her shoulder and pulled down two glasses. Serena held her breath, paralyzed in front of the refrigerator, mesmerized by how easy it would be to touch him. To live out the fantasy she’d been craving for the past nine months.

He set the glasses on the counter and lowered his voice. “I like being with you.”

His words warmed her more than they should have, and she closed her eyes for a second as she stole a guilty moment to savor the sentiment. When he’d last been here, she’d not only liked being with him, she hadn’t been able to get enough of him. She’d never been so insatiable with any lover, before or since. Would it still be that way between them?

Almost as if she’d asked the question aloud, he groaned in response. Serena felt him take the juice out of her hand and heard it land on the counter with a dull thud.

“Serena.” The warmth of his breath was soft on her face, and he ran his thumb along the curve of her lower lip, skin so sensitive the caress almost tickled. It was all she could do not to catch the pad of his thumb with her teeth. “Look at me, honey.”

Forgetting to breathe, she did as he asked, knowing he was about to kiss her. Wanting him to kiss her. She’d spent hours thinking about this very thing—not just during her hot sleepless night, but ever since he’d flown back to Boston last summer.

His gaze melted with hers, and he sucked in his own breath, his expression almost one of agony. Maybe he was afraid she’d push him away. As if that were even possible. Her entire body was starving for him.

She laced her fingers behind his neck and pulled him to her. His lips met hers eagerly, and the moment his tongue slid into her mouth, she felt dizzy with joy. This was what she’d longed for. This was what she’d remembered, what had kept her awake on nights she should’ve been missing Patrick but hadn’t.

A small voice trying to be heard over the rush of desire warned, this was what was going to break her heart.