For a man who claimed he wasn’t looking for a relationship, Drew’s behaving an awful lot like my boyfriend. Even when it’sjust the two of us in his condo, and there’s no need to put on a show. He even told me about his tremor, and that’s definitely not the sort of thing you’d share with a casual acquaintance.
And that kiss last weekend, at Luke and Melissa’s barbecue? It took Drew a second to realize what was happening, a second in which I wondered if I’d made a huge mistake. But once he caught on, his response was instinctive, and if Luke hadn’t interrupted us, I’m not sure Drew would have stopped.
And the truth is, I didn’t want him to stop. I felt that kiss straight down to my toes, and it felt damned good.
And I got the feeling Drew was holding himself back. As though I was something very precious, and he had to show restraint. And ever since, I’ve been wondering how he would kiss if he let himself go.
There’s no denying we’ve got physical chemistry.
I’m aware of the irony here. If I’m not careful, I’m going to convince myself that when Drew said he wasn’t looking for a relationship, he really meant he hadn’t found the right woman. And that the right woman is me.
As I rinse the shampoo out of my hair, I resolve to put the kiss out of my head.
TWENTY-THREE
ALLY
My resolution to forget the kiss only lasts until the evening, when I get my first glimpse of Drew Malone in a tuxedo.
He’s standing in the living room, waiting for me to get ready for the Spring Fling. He doesn’t see me right away because he’s scrolling on his phone, so I have a chance to take him in unobserved.
In my defense, I don’t think many resolutions—or many women—could withstand the sight of Drew Malone in a tuxedo. It fits him perfectly, accentuating his broad shoulders, trim waist, and long legs. He looks ready to star in one of those car commercials, where a hot guy drives an expensive car through an ancient European city at twilight.
I feel a flutter of desire in my lower belly.
“Hey, Ally.” He looks up from his phone and seems to freeze for a minute. I let myself imagine that he’s experiencing a reaction to me that’s similar to the reaction I just had to him.
I don’t dress up often, but I made an effort tonight. My dress was a lucky find at a secondhand store—a pale pink sheath with spaghetti straps that fits like a glove. I found the perfect strapless bra, with just enough padding to give the illusion of curves without feeling like false advertising. My hair is down, with acouple of (fake) gold barrettes pulling it off my face. I’m wearing contacts, and I even put on mascara and eyeliner.
“You look great, Ally,” Drew finally says.
“So do you.”
I wobble a little as I put on my shoes—I haven’t worn high heels in years—and Drew offers me his arm.
“Thanks.”
The Spring Fling is taking place at the Somerset Golf and Country Club, which is about fifteen minutes outside of the city. The banquet hall’s been decorated in pastels for the occasion, and it’s already pretty full when we arrive.
I hardly know anyone, but everyone seems to know Drew. There’s a steady stream of doctors and hospital executives who are eager to talk to him, and he introduces me to everyone as his girlfriend. Before long, my mind is swimming with names and faces.
“Please tell me there won’t be a test at the end,” I whisper to Drew between introductions. “I don’t think I can remember any more names.”
“Alexandra!”
I turn and see Heather Larkin approaching, wearing an apple-green dress with ruffles around her waist and hips.
“Hi, Heather,” I say, feeling relieved to see a familiar face.
“You look lovely,” she tells me, before turning to Drew. “And Dr. Malone. The two of you make a very attractive couple.”
“Thank you,” Drew replies.
“You realize you’re in my debt, right, Dr. Malone?” she teases. “For finding Alexandra.”
“You’re absolutely right, Heather,” he agrees easily. “If you ever start a matchmaking business, I’ll give a testimonial.”
It’s clear that wasn’t the answer Heather was expecting, but she laughs anyway. “I’ll keep that in mind. Well, I guess I should mingle.”
