The Redhead Revealed (Redhead #2)(44)
Author: Alice Clayton

I wondered if I’d ever understand what I was doing.

Michael smelled different than Jack, but good. Like wool and sage and lemons. And Right Guard. He smelled the same as he had in college, when I fell in love with him. This felt odd, but right.

We ended up at a small sushi bar on the West Side, close to my apartment. I’d become a frequent patron of this restaurant—fantastic spicy tuna rolls. We squeezed into a booth at the back and ordered hot sake. As we sipped, I realized we could very well be on our first-ever date.

I was suddenly nervous, and it seemed he was as well. I’d look at him, then he’d look away. He’d stare at me, and I’d look down at the table. We were in a constant state of blush. He was red to the tips of his ears, and I could feel my chest burning bright.

When we both looked away for the tenth time, I reached across the table and grasped his hand. “We’re being silly, aren’t we?”

“Yes,” he said, letting his breath out all at once. He looked instantly more relaxed, and I giggled.

His eyes twinkled. “It’s silly that after all the time we’ve known each other we’re so nervous,” he said, picking up his sake with the hand that wasn’t clasping mine.

“As I recall, you used to make me nervous all the time,” I said, sipping from my own tiny cup.

“You nervous? Ha. You didn’t seem so nervous the night you attacked me,” he teased, setting down his cup and holding my hand in both of his. He traced the inside of my wrist with his fingertips, and my skin reacted with goose-bumps.

“I really did attack you, didn’t I?” I laughed as the waitress set down our tray, and we began to eat.

“Yes, you really did. You actually knocked my head into the wall behind me so hard I saw stars,” he said, mixing wasabi and soy sauce with his chopstick.

“I did? Well, I wanted to get your attention, and I figured shoving my tongue down your throat would do the job pretty quickly.” I laughed, suddenly feeling a little less at ease.

“You always had my attention, Grace,” he said quietly, looking up at me through his long eyelashes.

My heart leapt, then my stomach clenched. I thought of Jack.

Michael picked up a piece of salmon with his chopsticks and raised it into the air. “Well, Grace, here’s to you. And to the show. And to Mabel, who I now think I created expressly to bring you back into my life.” He smiled, those damnable brown eyes warm.

“To Mabel,” I added, raising my own chopsticks in celebration.

We spent the evening enjoying each other. I felt more and more relaxed as the night went on, and despite some momentary pangs for enjoying dinner with another man, I pushed through it.

This is what you wanted, remember?

“Do you ever think about that night, Grace?” Michael asked as we lazily sipped the last of our sake, waiting for the check.

“Yes. Sometimes. Do you?” I asked, knowing instantly what he was referring to, my voice steady. His gaze met mine, and neither of us looked away this time.

“Yes. More so lately. Over the years I thought about you and wondered where you were, what you were up to. I missed you sometimes,” he said.

“I missed you too,” I whispered, my voice no longer steady.

The check came and he put his credit card down without even looking at the waitress. She took it away while we stared at each other.

He licked his lips.

I tugged at my hair.

Our eyes never left each other.

The check came back to the table, and our gaze finally broke as he signed the receipt.

He stood and helped me with my coat. I was fighting with my scarf, trying to get my hair out from underneath it when he leaned in to help. I felt his fingers graze the back of my neck, and the instant spark from his touch made me take an extra breath. He brushed my hair out of the way and straightened it out. I stared up at him, the scent of warm wool and lemons thick in the air between us.

“You ready?” he asked, his voice low.

“I think so,” I answered, looking deep into his eyes.

He led me to the door, and we walked the few blocks to my apartment. We didn’t talk. I kept my arm looped through his, and he kept me close. We stopped in front of my door, and he looked at me.

“Well, I’ll see you in the morning, eight a.m.”

“Yep, eight a.m.,” I answered, swinging my arms nervously.

“Grace, I’m really glad we did this. It was really…nice,” he said, biting his lower lip. I felt a wave of nostalgia crash through me, as I remembered what had made me fall in love with him back in the day.

“Me too,” I replied, focusing all my attention on that bottom lip.

“So, goodnight,” he said, and turned to walk away.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. That bottom lip, that lip. My entire world was tied to that bottom lip. Why were all the men in my life constantly biting on their lower lip? And why did I find it so sexy?

I saw Jack—Johnny Bite Down—in my head, his face broken and sad that last night in L.A. I saw Michael holding my hand as we walked the streets of New York.

You can do this.

“Wait, Michael!” I called.

He turned back, an expectant look on his face.

“Do you want to come up for a while?” I asked, smiling.

He looked at me, eyes full of questions.

I nodded in affirmation.

“You sure?” he asked, walking toward me.

“Yes.”

He came back to me. “Then, yes. I’ll come up.” He took my hand and brought it to his mouth. His warm lips pressed to my skin, and I stared at the man I’d let get away from me when I was twenty-one.

The man who broke your heart, you mean?

Yes, yes. Whatever.

But he was here now. Again. And I knew we were perfect for each other. All the signs pointed to it. I mean, come on. People float in and out of your life for a reason. Michael and I were meant to fix what we should’ve never let break in the first place, all those years ago. I knew he wanted me. I knew that for certain now.

I took another deep breath and squelched the image that kept rising in my head: My George.

I pushed it aside with all my might, slammed The Drawer, and reached for Michael’s other hand. Walking backward into my building, I pulled him with me. “Come on,” I said, and we went inside.

Chapter 15

Michael followed me into the elevator without another word. I took a deep breath as I pressed the button for my floor. My head was whirling—from the sake, from the closeness of Michael, from the distance from Jack.