Beauty's Kiss(23)

The corners of his lips curved higher. “Haven’t found another date yet, no.”

Her heart fell. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s my fault. I haven’t asked anyone else.”

“Why not?”

“I wanted to go with you.”

Her pulse jumped. “I see.”

“You do?”

“Yes.”

But she didn’t, and Taylor almost kicked herself under the table for saying things she didn’t mean, because she didn’t see. She didn’t understand. She didn’t understand why Troy would want to go to the Ball with her. But somehow, between leaving the library and finishing her apple pie ala mode, she wanted to go to the Ball with Troy.

As friends, of course, she added hurriedly.

But she did want to go. She wanted to be part of the historic night and see the ballroom all lit up with pink lights and taste the chocolates and sip champagne...

And it would be fun to go, with him, provided it wasn’t romantic. Provided they were... just friends.

Taylor squeezed her satchel, thinking she was most definitely in over her head and yet she was going to press on, and just do this. Of course he could reject her. She fully expected a rejection any moment. “Troy, I was thinking--” her voice quavered, broke, courage once again stalling. She stared across the table at him, no longer certain of anything.





Troy heard Taylor’s voice quaver and crack before she went silent. He watched the color storm her cheeks, and then saw her bite down into her lower lip, teeth ruthless and intent.

He was quite interested in what she’d have to say next. “Yes?” he prompted.

“Maybe I could go to the Ball... with you,” she rushed and stumbled through the words, before pausing to meet his gaze, her chin lifting fractionally, almost defiantly, “if we went as just... friends.”

“Friends,” he repeated, looking at her, and trying not to obsess over the fact that her glasses were slipping down the length of her small, straight nose and he itched to lean forward and push them back up. Not because the glasses annoyed him on the tip of her nose—they didn’t—he found it quite endearing. She looked like a very young and very pretty librarian. He’d always had a thing for smart girls, book girls and here was the epitome of a smart, book girl before him.

A single, smart book girl. Who also happened to be quite level-headed, and sweet.

Well, her soft pink lips looked quite sweet. He found the bow shape of her lips incredibly appealing. They were the lips of a pin-up, not a prim librarian, and Troy wondered if she’d kiss like a pin-up, or a prim librarian. He was tempted to kiss her now just to find out.

It probably wouldn’t do.

It might just scare her off.

As it was, she wanted to be... friends.

“I would hope we’re friends,” he said pleasantly, lazily.

“Yes, but only friends,” she said, emphasizing the friends part yet again. She sat up taller, shoulders squared. “I was thinking I might enjoy the Ball if it were purely platonic between us.”

She might enjoy the ball... if it was purely platonic between them.

His lips twitched.

But she wasn’t done yet.

“Troy, you seem like a nice man, but here’s my quandary—”

“Yes. What is your quandary?” he asked.

She pushed up her glasses, and sighed. “You are Jane’s ex and I appreciate that there’s nothing between you now, but it makes me uncomfortable, knowing that you were together and that she continues to have... some feelings... for you, so it’s best that we be just friends. Nothing romantic. Which is why, if you still need a date for the Ball, I’m happy to be that date, but I just want to be sure we’re on the same page, about... romance... and things.”

“If Jane were not in the picture, would your feelings be different?” he asked, amused.

Taylor hesitated, frowned, and then tugged uneasily on her ear lobe. “I can’t say. I don’t know. No... I don’t think so. I think I’d still only want to be friends with you. I don’t think a romantic relationship would work between us.”

She was so earnest that Troy bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing out loud. Thank goodness he’d grown up in a family of boys and had developed a healthy sense of self-esteem. He might have found her rejection bruising otherwise.

It took him a moment to gather his thoughts.

“What is it about me you don’t like?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“It’s not personal—” Taylor broke off, frowned, dragged her coffee cup and saucer closer to the edge of the table. “Well, maybe it is. And that’s not fair of me, but the fact that you and Jane have history, and the fact that Jane continues—” she broke off again, her cheeks turning pink. Her gaze fell to the table, her long black lashes dropping to hide her eyes. She pushed the saucer again. “She’s my friend, my good friend, and I don’t want to create problems for you, or her, or me.”