He took her hand as if he’d been doing it for years and opened the door for her. It felt good. Better than that. Right.
Trouble.
There weren’t too many people there, though the few at the bar called out a friendly greeting to Asa. He nodded, but didn’t approach them. Instead, he kept walking with her, weaving through the tables in the dimly lit restaurant until they reached the back room that led to an outer deck.
Delilah took in the small boats in the harbor and couldn’t help her smile. She loved West Hollywood. Her life was a good one. But this was so familiar and welcoming. She walked to the wood railing and leaned against it, watching the water gently lull the boats to sleep and listening to Asa give their order to a young waitress.
When he was done he came up behind her and set his hands outside hers on the railing, trapping her between his arms. She shivered at the sensation of his body gently pressed against her back.
“I’m glad you’re back, Del,” he whispered against her temple. “More than you know.”
Del might have blushed at the brazen way she pushed her hips back to feel his hardening erection through her jeans, but Delilah was still drunk on the ride. On memories of him and her new plan. “I can see that. I’m glad you’re glad.”
He huffed out a surprise laugh and she watched his knuckles went a little white on the railing. “If I get any gladder someone might call the cops on us before we get a chance to eat,” he muttered, his rasp harsher. Aroused.
She turned in his embrace and slid her hands up his chest, looking into blue eyes that were darker than she’d ever seen them. “I am hungry, but I’m willing to risk it if you are.”
His brows lowered and he studied her as if she’d surprised him. “Pulling my leg, Delilah?”
She frowned up at him. “Why would you think that?”
He took a step back and shoved his hands in his pockets, an obvious attempt to conceal his reaction to her. “I don’t know. Maybe because you moved away a few days after you slugged me—deservedly—and you haven’t spoken to me since. Maybe because I’ve been memorizing my apology to you for a decade, and I was looking forward to finally getting to say it.”
She leaned back on the railing with a sigh and crossed her arms. “Go ahead then.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.” She nodded firmly, too stubborn to be deterred. She’d been planning on seduction, but she could be blunt if that was what it took. “You can apologize for being insensitive to my adolescent crush, then I’ll apologize for throwing myself at you and punching you, and we can put it behind us so we can finish what we almost started.” She hesitated when his mouth opened. “That is, if you want to. Or am I missing something?”
He pulled one hand out of his pocket and held it up, as if asking for patience. “Oh, I want to. You’ll just have to give me a minute here. I’m not used to—I mean, I’m used to putting in a few more man hours to get what I want.”
She bit her lip to stop her snicker. “We can do that. I wouldn’t want you to think I was too easy.”
His look seared her skin. “You aren’t easy, Delilah. You were almost impossible to resist at seventeen. After all this time…” He stepped closer again, lifting his hand to trace the ribbon laced collar of her top. “If you knew how often I thought about that night, how many different ways I imagined it ending and how hard it was not to show up at your door in L.A….I don’t think you’re easy.”
The door behind him opened and they both heard the tinkling of glasses and silverware as the waitress brought them his order.
Asa sighed. “I think I’m going to need that drink. And ice. I need ice.”
He reached for his beer and tilted his head back, taking several long swallows. She couldn’t stop staring at his throat. She wanted to lick it. Taste his skin.
Damn, she’d known she still had Asa issues, but she had no idea that her reaction to him would be quite this strong. One minute she felt like she could give up the reins and submit to him, let him take the lead, and the next she was taking the bull by the horns and…apparently nearly shocking the pants off of him.
She couldn’t change who she was. Who she’d had to be since her mother Valerie Dean had abandoned Delilah and her sisters and broke her husband’s heart by sailing off with her plastic surgeon on his yacht.
A week after she’d gone, Delilah’s father, Dallas Dean, had sold the empty building connected to the repair shop—the building he’d always planned on doing something with as soon as he could afford it—as well as the land beside it. He’d rented Dean’s Garage to the young Asa Wilder and moved them to Los Angeles, using the money from the sale, the last of his savings and all of his connections to start DD4. The decision had changed their financial circumstances dramatically—now they could live in one of the beautiful Marin homes her mother used to covet. They could have a yacht of their own. Or two.