“I’ll take care of this,” he said, his wallet already open as he paid for the food and tipped the delivery guy.
“I could have done that,” she said, following behind him after she shut the door.
“I know you could have, but since I’m the one who insisted on dinner, I figured I should be the one to pay.”
“Fine. Let’s eat.” She was starting the countdown. Fifteen minutes for food and conversation, another fifteen for after-dinner talk, then he was gone.
She grabbed plates and laid out the cartons of food on her table. Drew had gone out to the balcony to grab his beer.
“Can I fix you something to drink?” he asked, obviously comfortable enough to open her cabinets and grab himself a glass.
“I’ll just have a glass of water.”
He ended up taking down two glasses. “I’ll take care of that for you.”
She didn’t want him to be nice. She wanted to think about him as he’d been in the past, like that night in college when he’d slept with her and dumped her the next day, effectively ruining her girlish fantasies about him.
But that was in the past. She was a grown-up and a lot of time had passed.
She was over it. Over him.
Right?
Except he was even more gorgeous now than he’d been in college. He’d filled out in places, slimmed down in others. He still wore his hair a little long and shaggy, which she found irresistibly appealing. His cheeks were more chiseled now, his jaw more angular, making her focus on those spectacularly sexy eyes of his that had always drawn her to him. Eyes that right now were zeroed in on her like a hawk zeroed in on its prey.
Yeah. Not gonna happen.
So instead, she scooped some chicken teriyaki and sesame noodles onto her plate, concentrating on the food instead of Drew.
“So what made you decide to launch your own line?” he asked as he lifted a forkful of rice up to his mouth.
Which of course made her raise her head just as he closed his mouth over the fork, which made her focus on his lips. Drew had very full lips, and despite all the years that had passed since—since they’d been intimate, she could still remember what it felt like when his mouth had pressed against the side of her neck, and what he had tasted like, and how gentle he’d been with her, since it had been her first time.
She’d lost herself in that night, that only night with him. And it had taken a goddamned eternity to get over him.
“Carolina.”
She jerked her head up. “What?”
He smiled at her. “What made you decide to launch your own line now?”
“Oh.” That’s right. He’d asked her that question and she’d zoned out, slipping into the past so easily, like she always did whenever he was near. “I couldn’t handle working for David Faber any longer.”
“What didn’t you like about working for him?”
After swallowing, she took a sip of water and laid her fork down. “Where to start? He’s demanding, which I can handle. Designers often are. The difference with David is that he’s high-strung all the time, which creates such a nerve-racking workplace. And he’s such a jealous bitch, treating his designers like slaves, refusing to let them provide any input. It was stifling working for him, which was why I accelerated my move to designing my own line. If he’d once taken any of my suggestions rather than treating me like nothing more than a seamstress, I might have stayed with him, because the man is truly brilliant. But he’s so neurotic and so afraid someone’s going to steal his designs, he’s impossible to work with.”