Вечер накануне Нового года. Народное творчество
wrong?” Cam asked.
“Nothing.”
His eyes narrowed. “Uh...”
“I mean, it’s something. But nothing’s technically wrong.”
His left hand dropped away as he sat up, helping her up as he did so. Which was just more proof that he’d be the most perfect date ever for one of the most important nights of her life. Since her neighbor Eddie had moved to Ohio, she didn’t have anyone she could count on to be her plus-one.
“Molly?”
When she met Cam’s gaze, her uncertainty grew. They were just two blocks away from her place now, and dammit, she wasn’t sure.
She wanted to be sure.
Especially because he’d made it very clear he had one goal in mind, and if they both went upstairs, he’d get his wish and walk away. And while she’d be left sexually satisfied, she would lose a golden opportunity. Getting the award, making the speech, being in the company of so many people she admired terrified her.
Her only option was to move the goal line.
Fully aware that she was being manipulative and selfish, she plunged ahead. “I’m sorry. So, so sorry. I know my timing is terrible, but please, could I have a rain check?”
His shocked expression almost convinced her to change her mind.
“I have to admit I was not expecting that,” he said. “Did I get my signals crossed?”
“No. Everything you did was great. Perfect. I didn’t know until just now that I wasn’t sure. About the rest of it. About moving so fast. This has been a fantastic night, but...”
“You need to be certain.”
She nodded.
He looked at her with his dark eyes. “Okay. Rain check it is.”
Her sigh didn’t ease her guilt, but it did help her relax enough to grab her purse. “I’ll call you,” she said, just as they turned onto her block. “Soon. Very soon. I hope you’ll want to see me again.”
Cam leaned over and kissed her. Lightly. On the lips, and then on her cheek. “I had a great time,” he said. “Almost all the way to the end.”
She winced, even though he was teasing. “Thank you.” She found his hand and squeezed it before she opened her purse to pull out her wallet. “I’m sorry about the coffee.”
“There’s nothing to apologize for,” he said, stopping her from getting money out. “Can you wait for me?” he asked the cabbie. “Five minutes?”
“I’m on the clock. Take your time.”
“You don’t need to walk me up,” Molly said. “Honestly. I appreciate it, but I’ll be fine. I’ve only got a few steps to go before I’m inside.”
Nodding, he got out of the cab and held his hand out to help her. Once they were standing on the sidewalk, she had the urge to ask him up anyway, but she held back. She wanted him to be the perfect ending to her big awards night. Then, when they said their goodbyes, she’d have no regrets at all.
* * *
THE RIDE BACK to Manhattan was as surreal as it was uncomfortable. Cam had been completely blindsided by Molly’s request. The conversation had been stellar. She was amazing to touch, to kiss, and the way she’d kissed him back—
Dammit, there’d been chemistry between them.
Not the forever kind. But it had been easy and sexy. Naturally, he’d pictured them in bed together. Halfway to her place, he’d been calculating how early they’d have to get up to have morning sex.
And then...ice water.
At least the physical discomfort had eased up. Not totally. That wouldn’t happen until he got back to his place and did some manual labor. But at least his balls weren’t blue anymore.
Even though he’d moved to the side of the bench seat, he knew the cabbie was still sneaking glimpses at him. A woman behind the wheel was a rarity in New York. He’d have liked to ask her opinion about what had happened, but that would be admitting he’d been making out in the backseat like a teenage horndog. Of course, she knew that. No way she couldn’t, but pretending that it hadn’t happened was the best way to handle things like this.
Besides, Cam was pretty certain Molly had meant what she’d said. That she would call him, and they’d have another go, and she’d have quelled her doubts. Huh. She’d probably gone directly to the internet to check out his story. She’d met Emmy, but when it came down to taking a man into her bed, she probably wanted to be completely confident he wasn’t a bastard.
He’d checked her out. Why wouldn’t she do the same?
Right. It wasn’t complicated, and it wasn’t about him. Maybe he should have insisted on paying the dinner tab.
No. She’d been very clear, and his sisters had taught him to listen to things like that. Ignoring the express wishes of a lady, even if he thought he knew better, was dismissive and a dick move.
That she’d postponed things meant nothing. Sex tonight hadn’t been cut in stone. The next move was hers. He hoped she’d call. If she didn’t? No need to go there. He hadn’t even gotten back to the city yet. He’d give it a few days. She’d call.
She would.
FOUR A.M. As he stared at the ceiling, thoughts of Molly and what they could have been doing kept Cam up, pissed that he couldn’t turn off his brain.
Since the date had ended earlier than he’d expected, he’d gone down to the bar to help out after his shower. The plan had been to get some relief then hit the sack, but that hadn’t worked out, either.
Sunday through Thursday, they were open till two. As soon as their last customer left, Cam had helped the Sunday night crew clean everything. He’d made an excellent favor swap with Solomon, their senior bartender. Solomon now owed him a weekend night off for scrubbing the floors in the kitchen and subbing in behind the bar. The physical exercise and focus had been a good distraction from thinking about Molly. Unfortunately, the distraction had stopped working as soon as he had.
He’d tried to convince himself he was tired enough to sleep. After lying in bed as the minutes marched on, he went for one more round with his right hand. It didn’t take long to get hard, not when he could picture her so clearly. Shit, he could still practically feel her breast under his palm.
If this didn’t do the trick, he’d get out his notebook and work some calculus problems. Those had always put him to sleep.
* * *
MOLLY SQUIRMED IN her bed, unable to find a comfortable position. She wouldn’t look at the clock. Not again. Every time she did, she was compelled to figure out how many hours she had until her alarm went off if she immediately fell asleep.
The last reading had been at two-fifteen. Her alarm would go off at five-thirty.
All because she was the most horrible person in all of New York. And New Jersey, and probably Connecticut and, what the hell, Rhode Island, too.
The look on Cameron’s face when she’d pulled the emergency cord. She might as well have slapped him across the face. What she’d actually done was probably worse for a guy.
She’d been having this internal debate since she’d walked into her apartment and turned on her computer. She’d gone straight to The Four Sisters Brewpub’s website. It was an impressive site with lots of history about the place, including how many blue ribbons Cameron’s beer had won in the past. But none in the past five years.
They’d barely scratched the surface of each other’s lives. She had questions.