“What happened? I don’t remember that.” He looks vaguely embarrassed. “Some parts are still hazy.”
“You were mostly asleep already. I asked if you had a meeting that I needed to set an alarm for.”
Understanding dawns. “And I told you I had a morning skate.”
“Yes.”
“Jesus. And you just…” He tilts his head to the side, his gaze sharpening. “I remember you curling up against me.”
I nod, jerkily.
“You let me hold you all night. You could have taken off right then and there, but you stuck around.”
Waves of hot embarrassment roll over me as I remember how pathetic I felt, wanting to soak up the last few hours ofa fantasy. “I thought I would get up early, but then I slept in through the alarm, and?—”
I close my eyes as I cut myself off, not wanting to admit the rest.
I feel him shift, the air in the too-small room suddenly disturbed as he crosses to me and takes my hands. “Let’s sit down.”
“No, I can’t.” I pull away from him and open my eyes.
I have to look up,way up, when he’s this close.
And it’s very hard to focus on anything other than the bright, piercing blue of his eyes.
“You’re taller when I’m not wearing heels,” I say inanely.
“You’re pretty short.” He smiles ruefully. “Short but speedy. You got out of my room pretty fast that morning.”
“Because I had to,” I say miserably. “I wouldn’t have even had a drink with you if I’d known who you were.”
He lifts his eyebrows, and his smile fades to a grim acknowledgement. “Fuck.”
I whisper a quiet apology, because I am sorry, very sorry, on so many levels.
After a long beat, he says, “I’m glad you didn’t know who I was, then. Because it hurts to think of missing out on knowing you.”
“That’s…” I puff my cheeks out. “You have to know that you knowing me is a disaster waiting to happen.”
He seems unbothered by the warning. “You captivated me, you know that? You’re everything I’d ever want in a woman. You’re smart, and funny, and kind. And so sexy, I?—”
He cuts himself off.
But it’s too late. I heard that way his voice changed. And I feel that part of the regret, too. My stomach squeezes at the thought of missing that night together, of never knowing what it feels like to pull his body on top of mine. I’m going to replay that momentfor the rest of my life as a treasured memory. But that’s all it can be, the sweetest, most achingly sad memory.
He tips his head to the side, scanning my face carefully as he looks down at me. “Francesca—or Frankie? Which would you prefer?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does to me. I know we’re two ships passing in the night here, but I’m in LA for the next two nights, and I want to get to know you.”
I stare up at him. “You cannot know me. It’s bad enough that you fucked your coach’s daughter. You cannot get entangled with me beyond one night.”
“I didn’t justfuck you. I married you first. And your relationship to Wilson is irrelevant. All I care about isourrelationship.” He glares down at me.
“We don’t have a relationship!”
“Not with that attitude.”
