Private Indiscretions

“It’s that furtive look, I imagine. Makes all the women swoon.”

Her eyes lit with humor as he walked past her and she shut the door. She smelled good—not flowery, but cool and tranquil. He’d bet her perfume came in a curvy blue bottle. But he missed the hot pink she always used to wear.

The tiled foyer boasted cathedral ceilings and vivid stained-glass windows, a dramatic curving staircase, textured walls painted a rich antique gold and a spectacular wrought-iron chandelier. Bold simplicity. He’d been in a lot of fancy homes in the past few years, but this one had the added element of old-world elegance, as if the furnishings had been there forever. He wondered if she’d had any hand in the decorating.

“Would you like a glass of wine, Sam? I’ve got a wonderful Chardonnay chilling in the living room.” She gestured toward open double doors off the foyer.

He saw a flicker of candlelight, heard the strains of a classical piece he couldn’t have identified if his life depended on it. She’d set a scene. For him.

Dammit. Dammit.

“I’ll pass on the wine, but thanks,” he said.

She looked mildly embarrassed. “Oh. You probably don’t drink, do you?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because of your—” She stopped, her embarrassment deepening.

He knew how the sentence ended. “Because of my father?” he asked.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

He cut her off with a gesture. There was no faster way to change his mood than to bring up his father, but especially coming from Dana, who knew too many details of his childhood. “I drink socially. What that man did or didn’t do has no bearing on who I am or how I live. I’m not drinking because I can’t stay. I’m on my way to the airport.”

“Already? Your flight’s at eleven.”

“And I have to park and go through security. You know how long that takes these days.”

“Of course,” she said crisply, matching his tone, making him aware of it. She walked toward the living room, giving him time to admire her backside, something he’d done too often as a teenager. When she returned she held out the medal to him.

“Thanks.” He stuffed it in his pocket and turned to leave, the hardest thing he’d done in recent memory. She was a temptation beyond his expectations.

“Why’d you even bother to come?” she asked.

He glanced back. He couldn’t read her expression, something between curious and hurt.

“I might as well have mailed it, you know,” she said, not letting him off the hook.

I wanted to see where you live, how you live. Not from the outside, but inside, where her life wasn’t open for public viewing. How could he tell her that and still play fair with her? He wished now that he’d never given her his card. He couldn’t have a relationship with her. Not now. Not ever. “I thought I’d save you the trouble.”

“Right. It would’ve been such a burden on me.”

Sarcasm now. “You were the one all fired up to give it to me.”

“Of course I was. You worked hard for that medal.”

“Dana. It was fifteen years ago. Who cares?”

“I do.” Her voice quavered; her cheeks flushed. “I liked battling with you all those years. Sure I wanted to win, to be the best, but, Sam, I was happy that if I didn’t win, you did.”

He felt like the biggest jerk on earth. “Dana—”

“Go on or you’ll miss your plane.”

He wanted to find a way to end this better. Instead he opened the door and stepped out into the night.

“Wait.” She hurried toward him and grabbed his arm long enough to stop him.

“I apologize,” she said. “Truly. All I can say in my defense is that it’s been a long three days. I’m exhausted, and not thinking clearly. I’m sorry I called you and made you go out of your way. I should’ve just mailed the medal and been done with it.”

He didn’t know what to say, couldn’t dare continue the conversation, not when he wanted to carry her up that sweeping staircase, find the nearest bed and bury himself in her.

“I wasn’t expecting anything of you tonight,” she said. “Just to share a glass of wine and some conversation. Work consumes me. I wanted a little time away from it with an old friend. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot.”

She sounded lonely. He understood loneliness. And because he was only human, he brushed his fingertips down her cheek, although whether for him or for her, he wasn’t sure. A little sound came from her, sexier than any he’d ever heard in bed.

He walked away. She followed.

“You don’t have to walk me to my car,” he muttered over his shoulder, frustrated now.

He heard her stop walking for a second, then continue at a more leisurely pace.

“I’m getting my mail,” she said, a little lilt to her voice.

“You get your own mail?”

“My housekeeper was off today.”

He liked the self-protective arrogance in her voice. He pushed the remote unlock button for the car. “Nice house, by the way.”

“Nice car. Is it yours?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t have to sound so defensive. You don’t live in San Francisco and you’re flying back to L.A. tonight. Logic says it’s a rental.”

“A Mercedes?” He climbed inside knowing he’d spend the rest of the night analyzing their conversation. “See you, Senator.”

Moving closer to the car, she continued to eye it speculatively. “Were you… Is this what you were driving at the reunion?”

“Yes.”

“You—” She stopped. “Did you guard my parents’ house after the reunion, Sam?”

Distracted by the breast-level view, he hesitated a few seconds before answering. “Why would I do that?”

“Answering a question with a question doesn’t work with me.” She turned those dark eyes on him then, not with humor this time. “If you’re leaving your car at the airport, you’re coming back to the city.”