“But not as exciting. Or maybe I just take it for granted. Do you ever do that?”
“I wish I could. If I start taking things for granted, I’ll stop growing, and if that happens I’ll never make it the way I want to.”
“That means a lot to you … making it.” So different from how he’d been, she mused. Then again, perhaps he’d only defined success differently fourteen years ago.
“Everyone wants success. Don’t you? Isn’t that why you pour so much of yourself into the business?”
She didn’t answer him immediately. Her feelings were torn. Yes, she wanted to be successful as president of the Lange Corporation, but for reasons she didn’t want to think about, much less discuss. “I guess,” she said finally.
“You don’t sound sure.”
She forced herself to perk up. “I’m sure.”
“But there was something else you were thinking about just now. What was it, Marni?”
She smiled and shook her head. “Nothing. It was really nothing. I think I’m just tired. It’s been a long day.”
“And a trying one.”
“Yes,” she whispered.
Not wanting to push her too far, Web didn’t argue. He’d done most of the talking during dinner, and though there were still many things he wanted to know about Marni, many things he wanted to discuss with her, he felt relatively satisfied with what he’d accomplished. He’d wanted to tell her about his work, and he had. He’d wanted to give her a glimpse of the man he was now, and he had. He’d wanted to give her something to think about besides the past, and he had. He was determined to make her trust him again. Tonight had simply been the first down payment on that particular mortgage. There would be time enough in the future to make more headway, he mused as he dug into his pocket to settle the bill. There would be time. He’d make time. He wasn’t sure what he wanted in the long run from Marni, but he did know that their relationship had been left suspended fourteen years ago, and that it needed to be settled one way or another.
They hit the cold night air the instant they left the restaurant. Marni bundled her coat around her more snugly, and when Web drew her back into the shelter of the doorway and threw his arm around her shoulder while they waited for the car, she didn’t resist. He was large, warm and strong. He’d always been large, warm and strong.
For an instant she closed her eyes and pretended that that summer hadn’t ended as it had. It was a sweet, sweet dream, and her senses filled to brimming with the taste, the touch, the smell of him. She loved Web. Her body tingled from his closeness. They were on their way to a secret rendezvous where he’d make the rest of the world disappear and lift her onto a plane of sheer bliss.
“Here we go,” he murmured softly.
She began to tremble.
“Marni?”
Web was squeezing her shoulder. She snapped her eyes open and stared.
“The car. It’s here.”
Stunned, she let herself be guided into the front seat. By the time she realized what had happened, the neon lights of the city were flickering through the windshield as they passed, camouflaging her embarrassment.
Web said nothing. He drove skillfully and at a comfortable pace. When they arrived at her building, he left his keys with the doorman and rode the elevator with her to her door. There he took her own keys, released the lock, then stood back while she deactivated the burglar alarm.
With the door partially open, she raised her eyes to his. “Thank you, Web. I’ve … this was nice.”
“I thought so.” He smiled so gently that her heart turned over. “You’re really something to be with.”
“I’m not. You carried most of the evening.”
He winked. “I was inspired.”
Her limbs turned to jelly and did nothing by way of solidifying when he put a light hand on her shoulder. His expression grew more serious, almost troubled.
“Marni, about that cover—”
“Shhhh.” She put an impulsive finger on his lips to stem the words, then wished she hadn’t because the texture of his mouth, its warmth, was like fire. She snatched her hand away and dropped her gaze to his tie. It was textured, too, but of silk, and its smooth-flowing stripes of navy, gray and mauve were serene, soothing. “Please,” she whispered. “Let’s not argue about that again.”
“I still want to do it. Don’t you think it would be easier for you now?”
“I … I don’t know.”
