Page 11 of Master Debater

Nate shed his suit jacket and tie and told me to make myself at home while he went to grab a bottle of wine, and I took that to mean go ahead and peruse his penthouse. If I hadn’t experienced walking from my front door to his, I’d hardly believe we were in the same building. The original wood floors were about the only item they had in common. The kitchen cabinets, shelves, and crown molding were white, which contrasted nicely with the black countertops.

The furnishings were another stark difference, the couch, coffee table, and recliner from this decade instead of the eights or nineties. Windows took up the entire north side of his penthouse, allowing an unfettered view of skyscrapers, several other brownstone buildings, and the Charles River.

Instead of everything being crammed onto one floor, everything was open and wide.

“It’s gorgeous,” I said as he approached with the wine and two long-stemmed glasses.

“It’s been in the family for generations.”

“Handy.” A weird but true thing to say, but Nate simply smiled, popped the cork, and poured.

“I didn’t pay attention to the type of wine you’d bought, only that it was a red, so I figured a nice port ought to pair nicely with the cookies. This one’s from the Vinha dos Ecos vineyards, and has notes of plum, blackberry, chocolate, and raisin.”

I swept my ponytail over my shoulder, flaunting my one point of pride. My hair grew thick and long, held curl for days, and lightened the more time I spent in the sun. Bonus, the higher the ponytail, the longer line my body made from top to bottom. I sat up straighter, hoping it worked in my favor, even on the couch. “I think the bottle was from, like, the New Jersey Turnpike Winery. It’s known for its notes of smog, dirty change, and being cheap.”

Even Nate’s muted snicker filtered into my heart and turned it to mush. “Truth is, I’m more of a scotch and whiskey guy. My mom’s very into wine, as well as an easy mark for schemers, something I’ve lectured her about to no avail.” He lifted the other glass and sat next to me on the couch. “Since my dad was always busy and I didn’t want her traveling alone, I’ve endured a lot of vineyard tours through the years.”

I lifted the wine, sipped, and allowed an “mmm” noise to slip out. “Props to Angela. This is amazing.”

He tilted his head, those grooves between his eyebrows back, although softer than before. “I forgot that you know my mom. I was about to launch into conspiracy theory mode when you called her by her name.”

“I’ve yet to meet her in person, but whenever I talk to her over the phone, it feels like we’ve known each other for years.” Worried that’d scare Nate off, which was a thing I shouldn’t be worried about, I rushed to steer the conversation in another direction. “What kept your dad busy? Is he a lawyer like you?”

“Was, yes. He passed away three years ago.”

Willa Trainor. Master of making awkward conversation. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”

Nate waved it off. “It’s okay. Anyway, it mostly is now.” There was something unsaid, but since he hadn’t pushed me, I didn’t push him. “We miss him, of course. My mom likes to keep busy and has a more active social life than I do. She’s part of three different clubs, plus occasionally decides to play landlord?—”

“Here, here,” I said, lifting my glass, and Nate tapped his to mine.

“I’ll drink to that.” He licked his upper lip, and I barely refrained from offering to do a second sweep.

To keep myself from following through, I broke out the cookies.

The urge to ask more questions bubbled up; however, I didn’t want to veer into any territory that would seem too intimate. Not only would discovering more about Nate likely lead to wanting to unearth more, it’d then be difficult to prevent any divulging of anything involving divorce. Right now, the only part of my life I was allowing myself to dive that fully into was my career. No letting anything else get in the way of my dreams.

I also couldn’t let myself forget that, like his viper of a car, Nate’s sort of provocative luxury and speed would only end with me getting bit. I’d had more than enough pain in that department for a lifetime, thank-you-very-much.

As soon as my glass was empty, Nate refilled it. I told myself I’d refrain from drinking more than a sip. But one became two, and then I sank into the comfort of the cushions and savored the fanciest, most delicious wine I’d ever had, and likely ever would.

Nate draped his arm over the back of the couch, the line of his collar bone visible with the top few buttons of his shirt undone. His fingers drifted to the ends of my hair, and the warmth from the alcohol hit me all at once. Yep, just the wine. That was my story, and I was sticking to it.

Turning inward caused my knee to knock into his outer thigh, and I grasped at straws for something to keep my mind off how freaking masculine and magnetic my next door neighbor was. Seriously, I yearned to drag my tongue along his collarbone, and what was with my sudden obsession to lick him?

So you can see if he tastes as good as he looks, duh.

“By the way, the same goes for you.”

A roughish smile curved the mouth I couldn’t stop obsessing over. “Not sure what you mean. Seems more like a detour I’ve suddenly found myself on with you than a ‘by the way.’”

The swimmy thoughts were due to a combination of wine and Nate, and I sorted through them to find my point. “I mean that if you ever need to talk…” What the hells bells was I doing? “Not that I’m some pillar of good advice. I can definitely tell you what not to do, though.”

“Oh?” Tingles shivered across my scalp as he tugged one of my curls. “What shouldn’t I do, Willa.”

Oops, I sure put my foot in it—or my mouth in it. His mouth, his mouth, his mouth. It seemed to be getting nearer mine too. “That part was more of a joke. With everything you’ve accomplished in your career, telling you not to give up on your dreams would be silly, as you clearly haven’t.”

“I still have plenty to accomplish.”

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