Page 9 of Sexy Bad Valentine

“Maxwell,” a female voice coos from inside. “What are you doing out there?”

“Nevermind.” I rush the words, walking backwards. “You’re busy. I’m busy. Perhaps I’ll see you around.”

“No. Wait up,” he calls out as I spin around to hurry down the path.

What was I thinking? Of course he would have company.

He catches up to me before I get to the road. “Don’t go.”

“What?” I stop to glare at him, check myself. What right do I have to be annoyed that he has a woman with him? After all, he did when I met him. “You have company.”

“No.” He grabs my hand in one of his. “That’s my sister’s friend. Caroline. She’s not, we’re not…” He expels a breath. “I’m not interested in Caroline. She’s only here because my sister sent her to check up on me.”

“Truly?”

“Yes.” He squeezes my hand. “I’m interested in you.”

“Crap,” I say.

His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, like two bangs from a starter pistol. “That’s not exactly the reaction I was hoping for.”

“No, I didn’t mean it like that,” I backpedal. “It’s just—”

“Give me five minutes,” he pleads. “I’ll get Caroline to leave and then perhaps we could open a bottle of wine? My sister has a wine cellar to make Napa Valley jealous.”

“One.” I hold up a finger. “A glass. That’s all.”

“Okay.” He smiles. How could I ever have thought I would say no to his request?

“Five minutes.” He walks backwards, taking my hand with him until we’re both standing there with our arms fully outstretched, only our fingertips touching. Then he turns around and jogs back inside, Barclay on his heels.

I don’t stand around outside his house, because one, it feels awkward, and two, I don’t want to know if that woman has been something more than just his sister’s friend. Sometimes ignorance is bliss, so I walk at a leisurely pace around the block. By the time I get back to our street, he’s waiting for me at the end of the driveway. Hands in pockets, he scans both ends until he sees me, then he hurries toward me.

“I thought you changed your mind,” he says.

“I considered it,” I admit.

“Caroline really is just my sister’s friend.”

“Has she always been?” Ugh, I hate that I ask. “Never mind, it’s none of my business.”

“Do you mean have we slept together?”

I nod. Don’t want to say the words out loud. Curiosity and cats and all that. The way he narrows it down to an act is telling.

“Once,” he admits. “Big mistake.”

“Do you do that a lot?”

“Make mistakes?” He holds the front door open for me.

“One night stands?” I pass him, so close that I catch a whiff of his cologne. Sugar and spice makes my mouth water.

“Used to,” he says.

Used to? Until when?

“But not anymore.”

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