"I'm glad you called."He sets down his glass, moves closer."I mean, I want to know if there are issues.With the system.For quality control."
"Quality control."I'm very aware of how close he's standing."Right."
"And I was in the area."
"In Alder Ridge?At nine PM?"
"Greater Seattle area."He's definitely closer now."It's all relative."
He looks softer like this.Still sharp-edged, but slightly undone.
And it only makes me want to unravel him more.
I cough lightly, fingers tightening around the stem of my wine glass.
“So,” I say, voice just above a whisper, “is this a usual part of the Sterling Security experience?Surprise wine nights with frantic innkeepers?”
“No.”His smile is slow.Private.“You’re a first.”
Something in my chest stutters.
I take another sip.A large one.And then, like fate has been eavesdropping, I feel it.
A slip of fingers.The curve of the glass too eager in my grip.
And then?—
“Shit!”
Wine sloshes up and over the rim, splashing directly onto his pristine white shirt, spreading like scandal across the expensive cotton.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry?—”
He looks down at the deep red stain blooming over his chest.“I’ve taken bullet fragments with less drama.”
I grab a towel and step closer, blotting uselessly at the fabric.“Here, let me?—”
My hand brushes the firm plane of his chest, and we both go still.
The towel falls between us.
My breath catches.
His chest rises slowly, eyes darkening behind his glasses as he looks at me.
The air shifts.Solidifies.
And I’m not sure who moves first.
Maybe both of us.
Maybe neither.
But then his mouth is on mine, and everything else disappears.
Because when Luke Sterling leans forward and captures my lips in a kiss, I know that nothing—not a single touch I’ve felt before this—can compare.
The man kisses like he negotiates.
