The Million-Dollar Question

“Therefore, I must have nefarious reasons to do so now?”

“I wouldn’t necessarily assume your reasons are nefarious, but you must have at least one above and beyond a free meal.”

She shrugged a shoulder again.

Fine. There’d been two elephants in the room and Olivia had been talking around them both for over an hour now. If she wouldn’t address the specific why of this dinner, he’d simply address the problem he did know. He leveled a look at her across the table. “After all, the last time we spoke, you called me a cold, heartless bastard.”

She blinked, somehow caught off guard by the blunt statement. “True. I was mad and my feelings were hurt.”

At least she was honest about that much. “So why would you want to have dinner with a ‘heartless bastard’?”

“I’m trying to make my home here. I thought it’d be nice to expand my network of people outside just the dance world, and you are the only person in Miami—outside my roommate and the company members—that I know. Since I’m not the same person I was nine years ago, I’m assuming you aren’t either.” The corner of her mouth twitched. “I guess I’m hoping you outgrew that.”

“Not really,” he said, causing her to choke slightly on her wine.

“Wow.” She cleared her throat and thought for a minute. “Well, at least you’re honest about it.”

“Those aren’t exactly bad qualities to have in my line of work.”

She thought for a moment, and then nodded. “If that’s the case, then we just won’t do this again. It’s okay. You’re friends with Jory and that doesn’t automatically include me simply by extension. You have a life, and I can’t just intrude upon that.”

Well, now he felt like a heel. And the one possibility he’d been steadfastly ignoring as implausible was beginning to win out: Olivia had wanted to see him. He’d hurt her and yet she’d still gotten in touch after all this time. It was equal parts flattering and mystifying.

It was also extremely complicated. Jory had put his sister firmly off-limits nine years ago. Not that Evan blamed him. He’d been seriously messed up back then, not nearly good enough for Olivia. Hell, he probably still wasn’t what someone like Liv needed, and he had to assume that prohibition was still in place. Of course, Olivia didn’t know about any of that. It put him in a very awkward situation. There was a huge difference between an eighteen-year-old and a twenty-seven-year-old, but she was still Jory’s sister.

Maybe she was just lonely and in need of a friend. Just because he was having flashbacks to happier, more naked times, there was no reason to assume she was, as well. And while he’d broken a major tenet of the Guy Code by sleeping with her before, there was an equally important tenet of the Code that required him to look after a friend’s sister when she was new and alone in a big city. There were as many possibilities as pitfalls here. “Well, I guess if you’re fully aware I’m still a heartless bastard and are willing to accept that, then there’s no reason we can’t be friends anyway.”

Olivia’s eyes widened at the baldness of his words, but he could rest easy either way knowing she was coming in with her eyes wide open. The ball was in her court, and he was frankly very curious to find out how she’d play.

Because she couldn’t say he hadn’t warned her.

You’re a coward. A fool. A screaming idiot who should be kept on a leash for her own safety.

Olivia stared at herself in the mirror of the ladies’ room and frowned. She’d had such clear, simple goals for this dinner, and she’d failed to accomplish even one.

Instead, she couldn’t have made a bigger mess if she’d tried.

In a just and fair world, anger and hurt feelings would not fade enough over time to allow the person who caused those feelings to have the same effect on her that had gotten her into the situation in the first place. Instead of being hit with all the things about Evan she’d hated him for, she’d been overwhelmed with all the things that had sucked her into Evan’s bed in the first place.

It was easy enough to say he was charming and good-looking, but it was another to face that head-on. The way that baritone slithered through her insides, turning them to jelly; the way those blue, blue eyes could make the most casual glance feel like a caress. It was even more devastating because he wasn’t trying to seduce her. That was just his default setting, a natural part of his personality that made him catnip to women.

It was humiliating. She might not have Evan’s legions of former lovers, but she wasn’t an innocent anymore either. She’d taken lovers, had flings and summer romances, so why was Evan able to reduce her to a simpering virgin again?

Mercy.

She’d been rattled and ready to run for the door the minute she’d laid eyes on him. She should have known then that the whole idea was insane, made her excuses and left instead. But no, she just had to try.

Wandering up to a random stranger on the street and asking if they wanted to support the MMBC and adopt a dancer might have been less nerve-racking and equally as successful. And she’d probably like herself a bit more afterward than she did right now.

It hadn’t been a completely crazy idea, just one that worked much better in theory than in practice. Regardless of how sensible it sounded on the surface, she hadn’t been able to shake that uneasy feeling that swirled underneath, and she was now very glad she hadn’t followed, though.

Maybe I’m not a coward. She was a decent human being who’d got carried away for a minute, but pulled back in time. Points for that. And she’d made it through dinner without making a complete fool of herself, so bonus points could be awarded, as well.

Thank goodness Evan could be so blunt, or else she might have tried to pull off this stunt—which she was now viewing as pretty gauche and tacky. She was now going to say good-night and go home, thanking her lucky stars she wasn’t leaving in shame.

She’d sort out the other confusing stuff later. Much later, and when she was alone. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. Time for a dignified end to this farce of an evening.

Evan was waiting for her out front. “Thank you for dinner,” she said. “It was good to see you.” Handshake? Air kiss?

“And you. Do you have your valet ticket?”

“I walked.”

“I’ll drive you home, then.”

“It’s only six blocks,” she protested, but it sounded weak even to her own ears.

“It’s about to rain.” As if to punctuate his words, a raindrop landed on her shoulder. So much for dry Miami Novembers. It felt like revenge for her tackiness.

Was it worth a standoff? Probably not, and she’d look foolish wanting to walk home in the rain. She was just feeling ashamed of herself in general and didn’t want to drag this out any further. Of course, they could stand here and continue to argue, but the ridiculousness of that would only exacerbate her foolishness. “Okay. Thanks.”

The timing bordered on eerie, as the moment the words left her lips, a car coasted to a stop at the curb and Evan was reaching for the door. The man had to be half genie.

This car was a far cry from the beat-up, perfect-for-trips-to-the-beach Jeep he’d driven in college. Black, low-slung and convertible, it looked expensive and classy, and it suited this adult Evan perfectly.

She wasn’t surprised that the valet knew Evan’s name—she’d gotten the feeling at dinner that he was a regular here—but the fact Evan knew the valet’s name did surprise her. Her experience with rich donors had proved that most of them couldn’t be bothered with the little people. He couldn’t be entirely selfish if he remembered the names of valets and servers.

His car proved that Evan definitely had money—regardless of his modest “we’re still growing” comments and it was almost enough to make her rethink her original, now aborted, plan.

No. Now she had her mother’s voice in her head, reminding her that anything she thought might be a tacky or bad idea probably was, and she bit her tongue as Evan put the car in gear.

“Which way?”

“Left at the light,” she answered absently. The traffic was bad and the streets were crowded, slowing their progress to a crawl. She definitely could have walked home faster than this. Her original refusal seemed less foolish now, as she was trapped in a small, enclosed space with Evan, his hand only inches from her thigh as he shifted gears.

It created an intimacy she wasn’t quite prepared to face at the moment, and in the small space, the silence rapidly gained weight.

When Evan sighed, she knew he felt it, too. “Liv …”

No one but Evan had ever called her Liv. Jory called her Livvy sometimes, but Liv sounded more grown-up and more intimate, somehow. And all things considered, “Liv” carried a lot of baggage straight into the conversation.

She tried to keep it light, nonetheless. “Yes?”

Evan turned his head toward her, but his face was unreadable. “Just so you know, I’m sorry for what happened. Particularly the way I treated you.”

She had to swallow her shock. That certainly was the last thing she’d ever thought she’d hear. She’d given up hope of an explanation or apology years ago. “Thank you,” she managed after a long pause.

He seemed genuinely surprised at her response. “For what?”