Page 50 of The Sweetest Return

I let my gaze touch the edge of the tattoo again, then lifted back to her face.

“I wouldn’t have liked it either.”

“No?”

“No.” My voice stayed low. “Seeing another man’s name over your heart while I had my hands on you? I would’ve hated that.”

Her eyes darkened.

Her fingers moved over the diamonds at her wrist, and I took the opening to shift gears before I forgot where we were.

“That bracelet is serious.”

Her brows lifted, but her voice was not as steady as it had been before. “You noticed?”

“I’d have to be blind not to.”

“Saint Aurelia,” she said, and something in her voice changed. Not enough to erase what had just passed between us, but enough for me to see her reach for ground she trusted. “Prototype for a new collection.”

“You wearing unreleased diamonds to an alumni mixer?”

“I believe in field research.”

“Is that what we calling it?”

“That is exactly what we’re calling it.”

I smiled, but it didn’t come easy. Not with my name showing over her heart and her standing close enough for me to remember what her skin felt like under my hand.

“You always were good at making people want what you believed in.”

Her eyes held mine.

“That’s generous.”

“It’s true.”

“You used to call it bossy.”

“You were bossy.”

Her mouth curved a little.

“You still listened,” she said.

“Most of the time.”

“No. All the time.” Her voice softened. “You just acted like you didn’t.”

I had listened to her in dorm rooms, in my apartment, in the front seat of my car while she talked through ideas with her hands moving and her eyes lit up. Back then, I had been young enough to think listening counted as support all by itself.

I knew better now.

Listening mattered, but so did what a man did with what he heard.

“You back in Pittsburgh for Saint Aurelia?” I asked.

“Yes.”