She hadn’t seen Margo before leaving, but her friend lived and taught in Manhattan.Hopefully she’d called an Uber.The walk gave her the opportunity to sober up and text Margo to make sure her friend was all right.She followed Hawk up to his second-floor apartment.Why had she agreed to this?What was she thinking?What was she expecting?But more importantly, what was Hawk expecting?
Her stomach twisted at the thought, anxiety and excitement swirling into a pleasurable thrill that she hadn’t felt in years.
Inside, the air conditioner was on full blast, making it feel as if they’d stepped into a freezer.She shivered involuntarily against the drastic change.A pristine apartment was spread out in front of her, the complete opposite of Alex’s cramped house.A giant flat-screen hung on the main wall.She could imagine Hawk lounging on the plush leather couch, watching whatever sports game was on.A fancy bookshelf sat against the wall.Instinctively, she moved toward it.It was full of books, but nothing she recognized.They all seemed to be nonfiction or business theory.
But she would count it as a win.“Never date a man who doesn’t read,”her mother always said.She’d never mentioned what kind of books.
There was the autobiography he’d bought at The Pretty Pages, set on the shelf like a trophy.Among all the tall hardcovers, one paperback was tucked away in the corner.She reached out, curious to see what paperback a man like Hawk Carlisle would read.The spine was so creased she couldn’t make out what the title was.
“You can have my bed,” Hawk said, moving toward the kitchen.
“Oh?”The announcement caught her off guard.Her hand snapped back as she turned to stare at him.
You can have my bed.Which meant he didn’t mean to share it with her.Relief and mortification sank into her muscles.Questions bubbled in her mind, but the bed—and what happens on the bed— was something she tried not to dwell too much on.
“No, I can take the couch.Really.It looks comfortable.”She gave the leather cushions a reassuring pat.They were surprisingly soft, and it didn’t look like a bad place to sleep.
“I’ll take the couch.”Hawk’s voice brooked no argument.He was reaching into his cabinets, grabbing two glasses and filling them up with water.
She took the offered drink with a quiet, “Thanks.”
This wasnotwhat she’d been expecting.The casual discussion from earlier was gone.There was a familiar distance between them again.Except now she knew what it was like to have Hawk’s entire attention.To talk and laugh with him.And she wanted more.
There had been a heat between them.They had been about to kiss, right?Before she freaked out and messed it up.Why invite her back to his place if he hadn’t intended to pick up where they left off?
“Lilian.”
She’d heard him say her name every kind of way.In exasperation, in fondness.But this time she couldn’t decipher the expression underneath it.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”She took a deep breath and pushed all the intrusive thoughts to the side.She needed to stop getting her hopes up.Stop thinking about him.
Hawk wasn’t interested in her.
That was clear now.
Time for bed.
In the morning, she could pick up the small bits of her dignity and get back to work.“It’s late.I’ll go to bed.Where is your room?”
She moved past him, determined to make a getaway before her face betrayed her words.But a gentle hand on her arm held her in place.
“I did something wrong again,” he said, sounding remorseful.“I’m sorry.Please tell me what’s wrong.”
She meant to shrug it off again with another obtuse excuse.But the alcohol still buzzed through her veins, and logic wasn’t working in her favor.The words came tumbling out.“I don’t know what we're doing.”
“What we—”
“Are we friends?Business associates?”She peeked at him and saw the confused dip in his dark brows, but he was nodding his head as if agreeing or trying to understand.The next word came out in a squeak of hope.“More?”
She braced for what came next.Rejection.He was going to admit that she had it wrong.That he was being nice.It wasn’t like that.All the things she knew in her heart and should have expected but had dared to hope against.
“Forget it,” she said quickly, “I’m sorry I asked.”
“But I didn’t answer you.”
She opened her eyes again.His tone, his face—it was all so hard to read.He was still standing there, staring at her.
