“You know it’s not,” he said gently. “People act badly. Sex is just the delivery system.”
“Is this you trying to seduce me?”
He chuckled. “No. When I seduce you, there won’t be any question about what’s going on.”
“I plan to resist.”
He forced himself not to react when every part of him wanted to celebrate the victory. Because resisting wasn’t anything like saying no. She hadn’t asked him not to seduce her. Which meant she wanted him to. At least on some level.
“You’re a complicated woman,” he told her.
“Is that good or bad?”
“It’s excellent.”
* * *
THE EVENING WENT by quickly. Starr was spending the night with Abby, so Destiny didn’t have to watch the clock. Still, she was surprised to find that by the time they’d finished dinner and dessert, it was after eleven. She’d arrived at six. How on earth had it already been five hours?
Kipling was easy to talk to, but still. Shouldn’t they have run out of things to say? Apparently not, she thought as she reluctantly put her napkin on the table.
“It’s late. I should go.”
She watched him as she spoke, hoping he would tell her to stay. Or get that sexy, predatory look and pull her into his arms. Instead he glanced at the clock, then nodded.
“I’ll walk you home.”
“Uh, thanks.”
Disappointment surprised her with its intensity. So much for his plans to seduce her, she thought as she stood and carried her plate to the kitchen. Of course he’d promised nothing would happen tonight, and he’d been telling the truth. He was a man of his word. That was a good thing. Only she couldn’t help wishing he’d been just a little bad.
“Don’t worry about the kitchen,” he told her. “I’ll clean up when I get back.”
He led the way to the front door. She reluctantly followed. They stepped out into the night.
The sun had set a few hours before, but the evening had yet to cool off. Heat radiated from the sidewalks and streets, giving off that “it’s summer” kind of warmth. The air smelled of cut grass and blooming flowers. Most of the houses were dark. She could hear crickets and her own breathing, but little else.
Kipling walked next to her. Close enough that they were obviously together, but not so close that they touched. She found herself wanting to move closer, to have her arm brush his. Which was confusing. What had happened to her sensible plan with a sensible man and a meeting of the minds kind of relationship? In something like that, there was no need for arm brushing. And yet that was what she wanted.
And kissing, she thought wistfully. A little kissing would be nice. With tongue. And maybe a bit of groping. Because she missed the feel of his hands on her breasts. And his mouth. She would like to feel that again.
“The stars are pretty,” she said in an effort to distract herself from her wayward thought. “I like that you can see them here.”
“Me, too. I miss the stars when I’m in a big city.”
Because he would have seen them when he was in the mountains.
Funny how she never thought of Kipling’s previous life. He had a slight limp and a few scars, but otherwise could have been anyone.
“Do you miss it?” she asked without thinking. “Skiing?”
“Every day.”
She glanced at him. “Because it wasn’t your choice to be done?”
“Some, and because I can’t go back. I could probably make my way down a mountain if I had to, but it wouldn’t be pretty. I’d have to go slow, not take risks.”
He’d lost a part of who he’d been. She’d never considered that. Not just the fame and the accolades, but the very essence of what made him who he was. It would be as if she couldn’t sing again or appreciate music.
“I’m sorry.”
One shoulder raised and lowered. “I deal.”
“More than that. You’ve made a whole new life for yourself. It’s impressive.”
They’d reached her house. He walked her to the porch, then turned to face her. “Don’t make me into a hero. I’m just some guy, getting by. There are real heroes out there. Pay attention to them.”
Words designed to make her admire him more, she thought, stepping closer and anticipating their good-night kiss. She hoped he would take his time and linger. That he would tease before he brushed his tongue against hers. That there would be—
He leaned in and lightly kissed her cheek. “Thanks for a great evening.”
She stared at him. “Um, sure. I had a good time.”
She waited.
He smiled.
And then he walked away.
* * *
DESTINY SCROLLED THROUGH the screen on her computer because the alternative was throwing it across the room. And it was never a good idea to take out personal emotion on a defenseless, innocent machine. Especially not one as expensive as her computer. But she wanted to throw something.
Kipling hadn’t kissed her. There’d been no tongue, no bodies straining. What happened to seducing her? Had he changed his mind? Decided she wasn’t worth the trouble? Why was he acting like that? She wanted to stomp her foot. And maybe pout.
Instead, she took a deep breath, then another and returned her attention to the screen in front of her. Information from the practice search was displayed. She could adjust updates from minute-to-minute to hourly. She and Kipling had found Cassidy in forty minutes. Not record-breaking, but still a good first try. Next time they would make the search more difficult, and Cassidy would be a searcher. Their third or fourth simulation would include volunteers.