Her gaze held his for a long second. “I don’t know what to think. My parents didn’t know about it, either. Wouldn’t it have been easier if they had just told us about everything up front?”
“They probably thought your parents would refuse the money if they knew who it came from. They’re proud. Very much like a certain young doctor I know.” He took his hand away and sat back.
A small smile played about her lips. “I’m just a little proud.”
“Oh, Tessa, if that’s your definition of a little…” He sighed, then fixed her with a look. “You’re going to be a damn good doctor. You already are, in fact. I saw you operate on Mr. Phillips’s leg.”
He hesitated about saying the next thing that came to his mind, but went ahead. “Your mother would be proud of all you’ve accomplished. And I know your dad is. Mom says he talks nonstop about you.”
Tessa’s eyes turned soft and moist, the green glittering like meadow grass covered with dew.
“Thank you.” The words came out a shattered whisper. “My dad and I miss her more than words can say.”
Suddenly his focus slid lower. To the pink lips that had once parted beneath his own. He wanted to part them again… to use his mouth to chase away the pain and grief he heard in her voice.
As if she heard his thoughts, something simmered in the air between them. An electric current that seemed to draw them closer and closer.
If not for the fact that there was a table and plates between them, he might have leaned across and kissed her right then and there—to see if the experience was as heady as he remembered.
But there was a table… along with a whole lot of baggage. So he picked up his fork and speared one of the meatballs on his plate of spaghetti instead. Just because she’d confessed the reasons why she’d broken things off with him, there was no reason to think they could pick up where they left off.
They couldn’t.
Too much time had passed. He had a daughter and an ex-wife. He, more than anyone, should know when to leave well enough alone.
Tessa took a bite of her salad, her gaze now traveling around the room. Time to steer the conversation toward something a little more superficial.
“How is Marcos and everyone over at the studio?”
She smiled. “Still as ornery as ever. They’re excited about the exhibition.” She paused. “Which reminds me, I totally forgot to call him and ask which day would be best.”
“Better sooner than later. Molly saw a movie a few weeks ago about a kid who learns to do all kinds of fancy karate moves. She’s been going on about it nonstop. Capoeira isn’t karate, but I think it would seem like it to her.”
“I’m sure Marcos wouldn’t mind her coming in. I’ll try to ask him sometime tomorrow morning.” Tessa’s lips pursed for a second. “I’m sorry about your divorce.”
The shift back to personal subjects took him by surprise, hitting a little too close to home. “Long-term relationships don’t suit me, evidently.”
She laughed. “You and me both. Your daughter is beautiful, though, so something good came out of it.”
Yes, it had.
“She’s my life.”
Those simple words contained more truth than he’d handed to anyone in ages. They cut to the heart of who he was now, barreling past the flip replies that seemed to come far too easily these days.
He could only hope he and Lizza had spared Molly most of the ugliness that had gone along with their breakup. Those last few months hadn’t been pleasant ones. Thankfully Molly had been too young to understand what the fights and arguments had been about back then—unlike now. He did his best, but he still got a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach whenever it was Lizza’s turn to have her for the weekend.
He wouldn’t put his daughter into a volatile situation like that marriage ever again. Remaining unattached was the best way to guarantee he didn’t. Which meant no kissing of spunky redheads was allowed. Unless it was a single night of summer madness that lasted no longer than that.
Now that he’d settled that he could lean back and enjoy himself.
They ate for the next fifteen minutes, the silence broken only by comments about the food and how good it was. The tension that had filled the operating room and their initial meeting seemed to have faded away. Instead, it felt more like those periods of quiet companionship they’d once shared.
Only this wasn’t four years ago. It was now. And where he’d once walked with confidence, he now needed to tread with care. For Molly’s sake.
And his own.
Tessa’s hand slid over his. “Hey. Thank you for understanding. About what happened all those years ago.”
Clay wasn’t sure he’d call it understanding in the sense that she meant it. Instead, maybe it was an acknowledgment that mistakes had been made on both their parts.
It wasn’t a new day exactly. But the warmth of her skin against his made him think about that single night of summer madness idea he’d had moments earlier. And how he might just like to experience a night like that.
Not smart, Clay.
That didn’t stop him from turning his hand so that his palm was facing up and catching her fingers in his.
And then, opening himself to what could be madness itself, he lifted her hand and kissed it.
Shock went through Tessa’s system at the firm press of his lips against her skin. Memories old and new swirled through her head and her eyes locked with his as he slowly lowered her hand back to the table. But he didn’t let go.
His plate was empty. So was hers.
“Do you want dessert, Tessa?”
She did. Only it was the forbidden kind that she’d enjoy for a little while and then regret the moment she swallowed the last little bite.
She shook her head, still unable to look away.
Not bothering to ask for the check, Clay released her long enough to throw a couple of bills on the table and then stood, hand outstretched.
Her tummy began to twist and turn, half in anticipation, half in fear of what she might say or do.
She gripped his fingers and let him haul her out of her seat in a way that felt like old times—when neither of them had been able to wait for what came next.
Only Tessa no longer knew what that was.
He towed her through the restaurant, nodding at the hostess, who wished them good-night. Then they were outside in the balmy New York air and her back was against the rough adobe finish of the restaurant.
With Clay standing in front of her. Inside her personal space.
He was so close, and when his thumb swept over the back of her hand she jumped.
“Scared?”
Yes. But she knew when to lie. “Not at all. Should I be?”
His fingers gripped even tighter and he gave a slow, knowing smile. “Absolutely.”
“Why is that?” Okay, now she was not only scared, she was dying for him to come a little closer, everything inside her coiling in readiness.
And desire.
Another couple went by them on their way to the front entrance of the restaurant, glancing quickly at them and then away again as if afraid of intruding on an intimate moment.
And they were.