The Million-Dollar Question

“For saying that. It means a lot.”

He shrugged a shoulder as he changed lanes. “I know it doesn’t change anything, but I can still regret my behavior. The apology may be years too late, but it is sincere.”

It was oddly much easier to have this conversation side-on, instead of having to look directly at him. She kept her eyes front and said, “For an admitted bastard, that was a nice apology.”

She cut her eyes toward him just in time to see the corner of his mouth twitch as if he found that funny. “Thank you.”

I won’t ask for details. Asking would sound pathetic and whiny. And there was a very good chance she wouldn’t like what she would hear. “Can I ask why things ended the way they did between us?” she said, wincing even as she did.

“Beyond the fact I’m cold and selfish?”

This time, she did turn to face him. “You’re saying there’s not one?”

He looked at her as though he was sizing her up and coming to a decision. Then his eyes went back to the road as traffic began to move again. “Not that I’m willing to share.”

“Like that’s not going to drive me crazy now,” She muttered, really not caring what it might sound like to him.

“If I tell you it was genuinely me and not at all you, would that help?”

He sounded sincere, and something panged inside her, reminding her of the sweet side of him she’d seen and gone cow-eyed over in the past. Jory had been uncharacteristically closed-mouthed about Evan’s background, but she’d known his childhood had been difficult and that he spent time at her parents’ house because he was estranged from his own family. She easily painted him as wounded, and being naive and smug and influenced by too many romantic movies, she’d cast herself as the woman who’d heal the misunderstood bad boy’s heart. “Maybe. But—”

A skater shot out in front of them, nearly invisible in the mist and dark, and Evan jammed on the brakes, throwing her against her seat belt. His hand flew out at the same time, landing painfully on her chest, and the effect of both managed to knock the breath out of her. The skater didn’t even look back as he sped away.

Evan cursed, then asked, “You okay?”

“Yeah.” She purposely looked down to where Evan’s hand was still pressed against her chest, pretty much copping a feel. Evan moved his hand quickly, without comment and without the decency to look even a little abashed or surprised at where it ended up. She, however, felt branded, the imprint of his hand seeming to linger. In hindsight, she should have worn a bra tonight whether she needed it or not. “Dude has a death wish,” she said to break the tension she felt even if he didn’t.

“You were smart to walk. Traffic down here is abysmal.”

“It’ll clear some once you turn.” The sudden stop had sent her purse into the floorboard, and she leaned over to gather the contents back up. Her lipstick, though, had rolled under the seat and she had to contort herself to get to it. Realizing the solution to both her physical and emotional situation, she gave one last stretch and got it, then sat up and said briskly, “I can walk from here, save you some time.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

So much for that idea.

As she promised, the traffic was thinner on her street, and Evan pulled up in front of her building a minute later. “These are nice condos. I’m glad you’re not doing the starving artist thing.”

“I ate half a cow covered in cream sauce for dinner, so I think we’ve already covered the ‘not starving’ part,” she said with a laugh. “And I have a roommate to help cover the rent. It’s a great location for me. It’s fifteen minutes on the bus to the studio, and I can walk pretty much everywhere else.”

She had her purse over her shoulder and a hand on the door, and that horrible how-to-end-the-evening tension returned. Evan’s face was partly shadowed and unreadable, giving her no help there. Not a date, not friends, not business associates…. She didn’t know the protocol.

To her ever-loving surprise, Evan got out of the car and walked around to open her door. Her jaw was still hanging open as he extended a hand to help her out.

For someone who purported to be selfish, he’d been raised right when it came to good manners.

That shock, though, caused her to stumble as she climbed out, pitching herself straight into Evan’s arms. He caught her easily, his arms strong and solid around her. He was warm, and damn it, he smelled good. Her heart jumped into her throat.

Over her head, she heard Evan chuckle. “That was graceful.”

Kill me now.

He set her back on her feet. “You okay?” Evan asked.

“I’m fine. Just clumsy.”

His eyebrow went up. “Maybe it was the wine.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Shaking it off, she rushed ahead with forced cheer and casualness. “Well, thanks again for dinner. And for the ride home.”

His lips twitched. “Take care, Liv. And if you ever need anything, give me a call.”

Oh, the irony. “Good night.”

Evan waited until the security door closed behind her before driving away. It had been a really, really strange evening, where nothing had gone as planned, but it hadn’t been bad either. The beginning and end hadn’t been fantastic, but the middle part, like the over-dinner chitchat, had gone pretty well, all things considered. Had she not gone into it with a specific agenda, she’d have called the evening a success.

But even with that failure, the evening still wasn’t a total disaster. She did live in the same city with Evan, and they might run into each other on occasion; having a truce in place made good sense. And when Jory came to town, he wouldn’t feel as if he had to divide his time so precisely. All good things, she thought, as she climbed the last few stairs to her floor.

Everything else could just be ignored.

Annie was sprawled on the couch, flipping through TV channels, but she sat up when she heard her come in. “How’d it go?”

“Not bad.”

“So he’s going to sponsor you?”

“No.”

“He turned you down? Jeez.” Annie went to the counter and got a wineglass, filling it and handing it to her. “That sucks.”

Olivia accepted the glass gratefully and sank into the cushions on the opposite end of the couch. “He didn’t have to turn me down. I didn’t ask.”

“What? Why not?”

With a sigh, Olivia ran through the evening, all the small things that added up to tip the scales in the direction of keeping her mouth shut. She glossed over her rather disturbing reactions to him, because, for her own sanity, that was best left unexamined.

“I can’t say I blame you. I see where you’re coming from, and I’d probably feel the same way. But,” Annie continued, as she cocked her head, “what, then, did you say to explain why you suddenly wanted to have dinner after all these years?”

“New in town, don’t really know anyone …”

“Olivia, really?” Annie sighed. “He’s going to think you still have the hots for him.”

“What? No. Not likely.”

“You said he has an ego.”

“He does.”

“Then he will. It’s actually the only logical conclusion he could come to, to explain it.”