Page 11 of Under His Touch

“What About Bob?” I shake my head. “It definitely was our go-to movie.”

Our laughter dies down, and he turns serious again. “You still want it all don’t you. The family, kids, white picket fence.”

“You say it like it’s a bad thing.”

“It’s just that it’s not for me.”

He reaches behind his head and squeezes the back of his neck, and I want to ask why it’s not for him, but I don’t. When we were young, we shared our hopes and dreams, but having a family of his own was never something he talked about. That didn’t mean I didn’t think he wanted one, though. I just assumed it wasn’t something guys talked about. But I guess in the end it just solidifies that we want different things and would never work out.

“You deserve that, Megan,” he says in a voice so soft it wraps around my heart and hugs tight. While we might be different now, he was the one guy who got me, the one guy who understood I needed a family of my own. I can’t replace the one I’d lost, but I needed something that was just mine.

“I’m not seeing it happening anytime soon,” I say, and give an exaggerated sigh. “I work long hours and I’ve pretty much given up dating.”

“You haven’t been with anyone in a long time?” he asks, quietly.

“No,” I say, and look away.

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Guys are assholes, I get it.”

That makes me laugh. “Takes one to know one,” I reply, teasing him with something we used to say when we were young.

“Hey, I resemble that comment.”

This time we both laugh, hard, and if I close my eyes really tight, I can almost pretend we’re back at his childhood home, hanging out in his bedroom.

But we’re not, and I’d be wise to remember this isn’t the Alec I once loved.

My heart thuds as I blink up at him. A second passes, then another, and then my laptop fan kicks in, pulling me back. I take a calming breath. “We better keep going,” I say, getting the night back on track. I quickly go over the rest of the traits, and avoid reminiscing, even though many of his answers bring back warm memories.

Alec shifts, moving a little farther down on the sofa. “Okay, now we’re on to how skilled you are at things.”

“Then we’re done, right?”

I snort. “No, we have a million more things to answer.”

He sighs. “You’re right. We are going to be here all night. In that case, how about a pizza, extra pineapple even though pineapple belongs nowhere near a pie?”

I laugh. He used to tease me about that so much when we were teens. “We don’t have to get pineapple. You don’t like it.”

“Yeah, but it could quite possibly be the only nutritious thing I’ve put in my mouth today.”

At the mention of putting things in his mouth, my nipples tingle, and another wave of heat rushes up my neck. Alec’s gaze drops to my pinkening flesh, no doubt aware that my thoughts might not be so pure. I bite back a groan, and work for casual when I say, “You used to be so health conscious back when you were playing football.” My gaze travels the length of him. “Not that your current diet isn’t working for you.”

“I work out, try to stay fit, but there isn’t much time for eating healthy.”

“My best friend Amanda is a chef, remember. We can set you up with healthy meals delivered right to your door.”

He gives me a look I can’t quite decipher and for a minute I wonder if I’m overstepping boundaries as an event planner/matchmaker. “Not a bad idea,” he finally says, and pulls out his phone. He punches a bunch of buttons, and gestures with a nod to my computer. “Pizza will be here in thirty minutes. Next question.”

Okay, clearly he wants to get this over with. For the next half hour we run through the questions, and when a knock comes on his door, I pinch my strained eyes shut for a brief second to give them a break. Alec pushes off the sofa, and his hard body holds my gaze as he pulls his wallet from his back pocket and crosses the wide expanse of polished wood floor. I stand and stretch out my limbs.

A moment later he comes back with the pizza and drops the box onto the coffee table. The smell reaches my nose and I give a low moan. When I look up, I find him standing perfectly still, lips pinched tight, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.

I open my mouth to ask if he’s okay, when he bends and flips the box open. “Mario’s does great pizza.”

“I’ve never had it,” I say, letting my question go as I look at the huge pineapple-filled pizza.

“It’s my go-to place. Dig in.” He waits until I pull a cheesy slice free, and then he grabs one for himself. We both plop back down on the sofa, a little closer this time, and I bite into my slice. I chew and swallow.

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