Page 16 of Tessa's Trust

“I’m so glad.” He parked at one of the luxury condos overlooking Tamarack Lake and turned off the vehicle. “Come on, Tessa. I have a spare room.”

I was too tired to argue. “You’re bossy,” I grumbled, opening the door and once again stepping into the freezing night.

“You have no idea. And I still owe you one. Don’t forget.” He gestured for me to go ahead of him.

I stumbled and then righted myself before climbing the stairs and sliding to one of the heavy metal doors that protected the high-end condominiums.

He unlocked and opened it, and I stepped inside his ultramodern apartment with its wood floors, marble countertops, and a shocking number of books piled on and spilling out of bookshelves to the side of the living room. A wide, two-story window looked out at the quiet and dark lake, with only a few twinkling lights across the way.

I turned to face him as he shut the door. “I realize you owe me one, and I’d like to get it over with.” I held out my leg. “Go ahead. Kick me.”

His smile, if there was a way to describe it, would be with the word devastating. “I’m not going to kick you.”

“You don’t seem like a kicker.” I put my foot down. “I just thought I’d give it a shot.”

“If I wanted a shot, I’d take it,” he said. And with that, he moved in, straight at me.

Interest flared through my entire body, hot and bright. “Whoa.” I held up a hand.

His gaze dropped to my mouth, and I swore to the saints, my lips started to tingle. “One kiss.”

Man, I wanted that. Badly. “Contrary to popular opinion, I’m not that wild,” I murmured.

He paused, cocking his head, and that bourbon-lit gaze lifted to meet mine. “You’re not wild at all.”

I stilled, my eyebrows rising on their own. “I’m the wild one.”

If anything, his focus softened even more. “Right, you are. The wild one always works two shifts every day, visits her family over a dangerous mountain pass at least once a week, and goes to church regularly. Yeah. You’re wild.”

“Triple shifts,” I retorted. “And God and I are tight.” I wasn’t sure I liked how well he saw me. Actually, me. “I’m not your type.”

His smile was slow. “I have a type?”

“Yeah.” My chin lifted. “Another Type-A and very ambitious woman who wants to rise in the ranks like you do.”

“You’re not Type-A?”

It hit me then. He was truly enjoying this conversation. Not just as a way to get me into bed, but in a slow and languorous way that I couldn’t read. Not completely. “No. Donna is.”

“You can’t both be?” He moved even closer and brushed my hair over my shoulder. “I’d say working toward a goal as hard as you have, like your restaurant, is all Type-A, Contessa.” The drawl of my name rolled through me as if he’d kissed every inch of my skin.

Naturally, I took a step back. “Maybe, but I’m also a hometown girl. Not leaving.”

That caught his attention. “Very good point.”

There was no doubt in the universe that Nick Basanelli was leaving…probably to Boise in the governor’s office or even Washington, DC, in Congress. Or the US Senate. Who knew? “Sometimes, it’s easier to break the world into reality,” I said. “I try to live there.”

After dating the now-deceased Danny Pucci, I’d learned to stop daydreaming about what could be. I liked what actually was, and I kept my imagination at bay by remembering that salient fact.

Nick surprised me by chuckling, and the humor reached his eyes. “Ah, sweetheart. You’re a dreamer, whether you like it or not.”

I did not. “I’m not the fling type, Basanelli.” Right or wrong, missing out or not, I knew myself. Plus, a sense of vulnerability wandered through me, brought out completely by the sexy Italian, and since I wasn’t a complete moron, I wanted to protect my heart. “So, friends?” I held out a hand.

He took it, his fingers warm and strong around mine. “Yeah. Friends.”

Being the realist I wanted to be, I ignored the instant pang in my heart. “Good.”

Chapter 7

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