Nick reached forward with his free hand and picked up mine. He raised it toward him, and for a moment, I thought he was going to kiss the back of my hand like some kind of courtly knight. But instead, he paused, our hands bridging the distance between us. He opened his palm and pushed his fingers through mine, linking us. When he spoke, his voice was low, quiet, and devastatingly sexy. "And where were your hands … while you were thinking about me?"
I gasped and tried to untwist my fingers from his, but he didn't let go. He stared me down for a long moment while I squirmed under his gaze. His cologne gently tickled my nose, some woodsy, masculine scent. He smelled delicious. His eyes flicked down to my chest, once, then twice, and I was aware of my nipples pushing against the red satin of my dress.
And then he flashed a devilish wink in my direction. "It would be pretty hypocritical of me if I objected to something you'd done while remembering me."
Blushing, I felt like he could see straight into my mind. But then I was struck by what he said. Did that mean … did that mean that he'd touched himself too, while thinking of me? That thought made my pulse race again, and suddenly I didn't mind being embarrassed. It was actually pretty hot the way he could make me squirm like this. He was just so composed. At ease with himself. Utterly certain that he could say these things to me and make me want him more, not less. That kind of confidence was such a turn-on.
The look in his eyes alone was enough to melt my panties. He looked … single-minded. Focused. On me. I licked my lips because my mouth suddenly felt so dry. What was he going to do? Kiss me? Hold me? Bend me over and fuck me? Whatever it was, I couldn't wait to find out.
His eyes were on my lips, and I held my breath. But then there was a noise, a shrill laugh coming from just around the corner. Both of us stopped dead. I'm not sure how he felt, but I'd pretty much forgotten about every other person at the party.
Blinking down at me, Nick seemed to come out of a trance. He took a step back, then another. At long last, he spoke. "Shit. What am I thinking?"
"It's okay … we didn't … " I trailed off. Took a deep breath. Looked him in the eye. "I kind of liked what you were thinking" I said, my voice soft.
"Me too," he said, with a quick glance downward. My gaze followed his. There was definitely a hardness straining against his jeans. "Seeing you in that red dress … with your hair up like that … it made me forget myself. But I can't let it happen again."
This was so unfair. He fascinated me in a way no man had in a really long time. Perhaps ever. With Brad, it had been friendship that eventually turned into love. But never in my twenty years had I met someone who excited me so much from the start. Was it really going to be over before it began? "But … can't we even try-"
"No," he said. "And you know why."
I did. I wished I didn't, but I did. Even if he weren't my dad's boss, there was the age difference. The fact that I was a college student, and he was a high school principal. He was a strong, confident man who knew what he wanted. He probably had been in lots of relationships. I'd just been in one. There could never be anything between us, but damn he was tempting. So I'd probably better remove myself from temptation.
He appeared to have had the same thought because he was already backing up. "I'd better get back to the party. It was nice seeing you again, Cassie."
"You too," I said softly, wondering how to address him. If there was any chance that he'd ever be standing by my side again, his arm around me like he did at the coffee shop, then I'd call him Nick. But since there wasn't … "Thank you for coming tonight, Mr. Conner."
Chapter Five
"EVERYONE, CAN I please have your attention?"
I felt nervous as all eyes turned to me. After everyone had finished eating, I'd gone through the house and the deck, Paul Revere style, asking people to gather in the large living room, I'd seen Nick talking with various teachers, many of whom I recognized from my four years at the high school.
Now everyone was crammed into the living room, seated on sofas, chairs, armrests of chairs, and anywhere else they could fit. Mom and Dad sat in the middle, on two dining room chairs I'd placed there for them. At my back was the eighty-five-inch television they had indulged in last Christmas.
"Twenty-one years is a long time," I began nervously. "That's longer than I've been alive." There were chuckles at this though I hadn't meant to make a joke. But somehow seeing people's friendly smiles helped me to relax. "Which I guess is how it's supposed to work," I said, grinning at my parents. Mom already had tears in her eyes and I hadn't even shown them my gift yet.
"Since I wasn't around-or very aware-for the first few years, I interviewed some people who were. Family. Friends. Anyone I could. And I've got pictures-pictures that Mom and Dad probably thought were buried forever."
Everyone laughed again, a few people patting my parents on the shoulder.
"So, I now present to you, the world debut of Robert and Gwen: The First Twenty-One Years." Hitting the remote, I dashed across the room, stepping over legs so I could get the lights. The music from my video started, and I blinked, trying to see where I could sit in the darkened room.
"Cassie, over here," my Aunt Lauren whispered. Her voice came from the direction of one of the longer sofas, so I moved cautiously toward her, trying not to step on anyone. A quick glance at the screen made me hurry. I'd seen the video a hundred times while editing it, but I didn't want to miss anyone's reactions.
"Scooch over, there's room," Lauren was saying. And then I could see a small space at the end of the couch. I kicked off my shoes, folding my knee underneath me as I sat down so that I'd be higher up. But the space was tighter than I thought, and I overbalanced, placing a hand on the arm of the man next to me.
"Sorry," I whispered, quickly withdrawing my hand.
"No problem," came a familiar voice. It was Nick.
Seriously? I was wedged against the hot, hard body of the man I was forbidden to see? Life really wasn't fair sometimes.
We were really scrunched in tight, too. I shifted my weight away from him, trying not to touch him, but there wasn't enough room. Finally, he eased his arm out from between us and put it over the back of the couch behind me. That freed up a little space though we were still thigh to thigh.
Soon, though, my focus was on the video. Mom had said I'd been working on it a lot this month, but the truth was I'd started it way back in February. Twice I'd returned home from college on weekends I knew my parents wouldn't be here to scan hundreds of photos from their photo albums. I also raided their things in the attic, finding a treasure trove of old love letters, mementos from their first dates, baby clothes from when I was born, and more. They were definitely savers.
The video was arranged chronologically, a mixture of pictures, snippets of videos, warm wishes from various family and friends, and more. It was all set to my parents' favorite songs. By the time we got to my favorite part, a recorded message from my mother's ninety-three-year-old Grandpa Jack in New York, I heard quite a bit of sniffling. I knew Mom was crying, of course, but she wasn't the only one.
When the video was halfway through, I began to relax. It was going well. People liked it. No one was checking their phones-everyone was watching. Just as if it were a real movie. Relieved, I slumped back in my seat, forgetting that Nick's arm was behind me until I bumped it with the back of my head.
I stiffened as I felt him there, but he casually draped his arm around my shoulder. Closing my eyes briefly, I let myself enjoy the feeling of being so close to him. Ours sides were pressed together, our legs touched. His arm was around me. And I know it was just a friendly gesture on his part, but it still felt good.
We'd gotten to the part of the video in which my parents and I had taken a trip to Europe, and now people were laughing at the video clips of my dad trying to say phrases in Italian, German, and French. I laughed, too, at a scene of him buying food from a street vendor in Rome and saying gracias instead of grazie.
"You have to send me a copy of this, Cassie," Aunt Lauren whispered, and several other people concurred. Pleased, I set my hand down without thinking where it would land-which ended up being on Nick's hard thigh. Oops. But wow, it felt good. The heat from his skin rose up even through his pants. He must work out-he seemed to have muscles in all the right places.
After a moment, Nick shifted, his free hand closing in on mine. He moved my hand off his leg, and it felt like he was going to let me go-but then he clasped my hand tighter.