4Happy birthday month to (the late) littlemsmessy! It's been a little over two years now, and I still miss you all the time, honey.
For almost four months, Ned had been trying to put her out of his mind. It would just be easier to forget about her, forget about the fact that they had ever met.
Not that they really had met. They had been introduced, hastily, once. He had been on his way out to sprint to the courthouse to file a continuance, and she had been walking in. He had immediately felt the world slow down around them, the first time his gaze fell on her. Sunglasses pushed up onto strawberry-blonde hair shot through with sun-bleached gold, intelligent blue eyes, a sweet smile. A part of him had known who she had to be even before Jenkins had confirmed it.
"Ned, this is Nancy Drew; Nancy, this is Ned, one of the summer interns."
They shook hands. He had touched her. She gave him a smile, and he could almost pinpoint the moment when her attention shifted from whatever was going on in her head and putting that expression of intense concentration on her face. When she actually looked at him, his heart skipped a beat.
But she was Carson Drew's only, beloved daughter. Ned wanted to work with Carson Drew once he finished law school. He loved everything about Mr. Drew's office, his exhaustive knowledge of the law, his personality. He wanted to impress Mr. Drew, not give the man a reason to end his internship. Acting on the intense, immediate attraction he had felt for Nancy would just be a complete, total, unmitigated disaster, because no matter what, he couldn't win. If he dated Nancy and they broke up, Carson would take Nancy's side. If he did date her at all, it would look like he was trying to ingratiate himself. Besides, she didn't seem to have any interest in him anyway. It was better to leave her entirely alone.
He needed to be smart. He was working his ass off, he had three semesters to go, and a glowing recommendation from Carson Drew would take him far, even if he decided to ultimately work for someone else.
But he wanted to work for Carson Drew. That meant his daughter was absolutely, unequivocally, completely off-limits, and whenever he had seen her after that first meeting, he had done his best to stay out of her way. He didn't need the temptation.
Even so, once his winter break had begun and he had started back at Mr. Drew's firm on a more regular schedule for a few weeks, his heart rose whenever another guest or client walked in. He caught himself waiting for a glimpse of reddish-gold hair, for the sound of her voice.
It was just a little crush. Embarrassing, ill-advised, but he would figure out how to deal with it. Besides, there was no way that she felt about him the way he felt about her, and that thought was definitely comforting. He could listen to everything the secretaries and paralegals in the office mentioned about her out of curiosity; it didn't mean anything. It didn't mean anything when his stomach clenched at the sound of her name. It didn't mean anything when his heart seemed to glow inside him as the secretaries talked about her. She was in her third year of college, and she was living in the dorms, about an hour away. Ned had heard Carson say a few times that he wished he could see his daughter more often, but between their schedules, his cases and her investigations, they didn't have a lot of time together.
Ned supposed it was for the best. If she had been attending college in Chicago, the temptation to make a very ill-advised decision would have been incredible.
The firm's Christmas bash was legendary, and Ned was glad to be invited. It was scheduled for the Saturday before Christmas, and Ned's roommate Mike was out on a date as Ned dressed in his second-favorite suit, the black well-tailored one, and knotted his blue and silver snowflake tie. He had it on good authority that Vanessa, one of the paralegals, had just been kidding when she had told him that this year, everyone had agreed to wear the ugliest Christmas sweaters they could find.
Sure enough, Vanessa was smirking when she saw him, a highball glass in one hand and dark tendrils of her silky hair falling in loose curls from her twist, brushing her cheeks and inviting him to touch them. She wore a black party dress, the skirt embellished with a scatter of sequins. Miniature red gift bows perched on each of her earlobes. "Where's your sweater, Nickerson?" she asked, hazel eyes almost brutal in their direct challenge.
She really was hot, and at least she wasn't off-limits. "Left it in the taxi," he said, with a smooth smile, and she smiled too, but her eyes stayed sharp. "How many behind am I?"
She took that opportunity to toss back her drink, then lowered it with an almost wicked grin. "Three, now. You actually going to try to catch up?"
He stepped up to the bar. "Scotch rocks," he told the bartender with a smile.
By the time he realized his mistake, it was too late. He was halfway through his third drink and the intoxication had hit him like a ton of bricks right before he spotted her. She wore a knee-length, sleeveless red satin dress, a shiny black belt looped around her waist. She was perched on a pair of high black stilettos.
He stared at her for a few seconds too long, so long that she cocked her head and began to turn, despite the conversation she was engrossed in. Muttering a curse under his breath, Ned turned away, hoping that she wouldn't turn around and find him.
"So. Want me to introduce you?" Vanessa had sidled up and was gazing into his eyes with a faux innocent look, one he almost would have bought if he didn't know her better. She was smart as a whip and just as competitive; the selection process for the new graduates brought in to Mr. Drew's firm was intense and limited, and Vanessa wanted a position just as much as Ned did.
"No..."
"Oh, come on." Vanessa grasped him behind the elbow and he found himself drawn along with her. "She's hot, you're hot, and she doesn't have anything better to do on a Saturday night...?"
The implication hit him immediately, but he shook his head. Vanessa would do anything to get ahead, including letting him engage in a truly cataclysmic mistake that would help her eliminate the competition.
His heart was beating harder, though. It was so hard to hide what he was feeling; it took him too long. He was starting to wonder if Vanessa was drunk at all.
Nancy was turning, and just the glimpse of her silhouette, the smooth line of her throat, the creamy skin visible above the neckline of her dress—Ned swallowed hard. As soon as her gaze was on his face, he felt a warm flush spread over his chest. "Hi," she said, the corners of her lips turned up a little.
"Hi," Ned managed to say without sounding too much like an idiot, he hoped. Then he saw, out of the corner of his eye, that Nancy's father was standing only a few feet away.
And she was a grown woman and he was a grown man and she was so, so incredibly beautiful.
"Enjoying the party?" Nancy had been talking to her father's executive assistant; the older woman began to drift away from them, and Ned didn't even look over to where Vanessa had been.
Ned nodded. "Especially now," he said before he could stop himself. He had spent most of his four years at Emerson perfecting his flirtation technique, and he slipped into it easily now.
Nancy studied his face for an instant, then smiled. "I guess I'll just have to see what I can do to liven things up, then," she said.
He chuckled. All around them, he could hear the buzz of conversation and laughter, some of it boisterous and inebriated. Everyone was in high spirits after the not-guilty verdict in the Greenspan case. Ned had talked to a few other lawyers before settling on Carson Drew's firm for his internship, and he had never been more glad. He was surrounded by people who made him feel proud of his decision to become a lawyer, if it meant having them as role models.
Except Vanessa.
"Well, it was nice to..." She trailed off, making a little gesture with her hand. Another guest was heading toward her, or maybe her father. "Merry Christmas."
It was meant as a dismissal. Emboldened by his inebriation or stupidity or the golden hum that seemed to sizzle under his skin at her proximity, Ned gently touched her arm. "Would you like to—I don't know, get a drink or something?"
She glanced up into his face again. Then she folded her arms, giving him a small, tight smile. "No, but thanks for the offer."
"No?"
She shook her head. "Look, we can skip it, all right?"
"Skip what?" Ned raised an eyebrow.
"All of it. You and I both know this wouldn't work."
"Having a drink together?"
She released a little sigh, but responded to him anyway. "I've been through this before. 'Dipping the pen in company ink' a hundred times over. You won't forget who my father is and I won't forget why you're even talking to me. You seem like a nice guy, so let's just pretend we've already gone through it."
He shook his head. "You take an invitation to a drink and turn it into a messy divorce in five years. And you assume I'm not different from anyone else."
"It's a safe assumption." Her lips had lost that tightness, but her blue eyes were still a little wary.
"And that I'm only talking to you because I know who your father is."
"Right." She swallowed.
"So. Let's do this, okay? Have you been to Iylo?"
She nodded slowly. "A few times."
"In about—" He glanced down at his watch. "Let's say an hour and a half, I'll be there. If you're there, we can run into each other. Total, perfect strangers. No baggage, no nothing. Then we'll see what happens."
She raised an eyebrow. "Uh-huh. I give it five minutes before you're trying to impress me with your knowledge of cross-examination strategy and criminal law. So predictable."
"And I give it six before you make some lofty reference to your father," he shot back, but the corners of his lips were turned up a little.
She tilted her head. "Total, perfect strangers?"
"We can bitch about school and the weather. Or are you too afraid I'll prove you wrong."
She studied his face. "An hour and a half," she said, almost grudgingly. "Prove me wrong, Nickerson."
So she knew his name. He couldn't stop himself from grinning. "I look forward to it, Nancy."
Her father's company office party had been fun when she was a little girl. Nancy could remember the adults around her laughing and congratulating her on her exhaustive knowledge of legal terms and trivia, highball glasses sloshing amber in every other hand. She had always worn her prettiest party dress, and she had enjoyed the attention for a little while. Her father's praise meant the world to her, but she had felt relieved when the room's attention had wandered to something else, and she had been allowed to settle down with a cupcake and juice.
The party had been an ordeal when she had been an awkward, gangly teenager, ill at ease in her own skin. Then she had gone through puberty, and the room had been different to her then. It represented adulthood, maturity, success. The impeccably dressed, well-shod women with their polished fingernails and tasteful jewelry looked beautifully sophisticated to her; she studied their offhand manner, their calculating glances, the fine gestures of dismissal and invitation. They were so different from Hannah, and they were the women who worked with and for her father, the way a part of her had always known she would.
The year she was eighteen, she had attracted the attention of one of her father's interns, a man four years her senior, who seemed to look at her like the stars were set in her eyes.
Seemed. She hadn't understood, then. She burned, now, when she thought of how naive she had been. Sean had imagined that she was his ticket in, that by seducing her that he could prove his suitability to her father. When Sean had been passed over for the position in favor of one of the other interns, that had been the end of their relationship, as far as he was concerned.
It was Christmas. Rafe was still smarting from their breakup earlier in the week, and when she was in the cab on the way to Iylo, he texted her three times in rapid succession. u will always b alone. don't bthr txtng me when ur lonely. i won't b around for this bs anymore. frigid bitch.
He was drunk. She knew that without asking. He was drunk and she was buzzed, buzzed enough that texting him back seemed like a good idea—for a few seconds, anyway. She sighed and deleted the lone few letters she had typed, and put her phone away.
Total, perfect strangers.
There was no way, not really. Her reputation preceded her, and Ned clearly knew who she was. He was Sean all over again. Two other guys had tried it, too; she had shut them down with a tight smile and a flat refusal. He was drunk and cocky and he was Sean all over again.
Sean. Oh, how she had loved him, for those six months. She had seen sincerity in his gaze, felt it in his words, because she wanted it to be there.
Bess promised her all guys weren't like that. Nancy wasn't willing to risk the odds. Rafe had been fun, heartbreakingly gorgeous, but at the end of all her relationships after Sean, she always found that she was eager to end it, to break things off clean, to walk away. She wanted to be the one in control, and her partners could never handle it or handle her. Sometimes it felt like her relationships only sharpened her, only hardened her heart further.
Ned had no idea who he was playing with. No clue. And until he knew, she would have fun with him. She would count the minutes until he betrayed himself for what he truly was. She would find her way past his defenses and relish it, relish the chance to do it over and come out the other side unscathed. She would treat him just the way she should have treated Sean.
And he wouldn't forget her name. He would never forget her name.
There was a moment, soon after he walked into Iylo, that he considered cutting himself off. He was feeling pleasantly buzzed, but it was starting to wear off. The more sober he was, the less likely he was to make a total ass of himself.
Then he remembered what he was doing, and he couldn't order a drink fast enough. The intelligent move would have been to go back to his apartment, blame his audacity on the alcohol, and apologize to her the next time he saw her.
But he couldn't. Tonight might be his only chance to impress her, and he couldn't make himself waste it.
She walked in, her shining reddish-gold hair falling in loose waves down over her shoulders, her shoulders set, spine straight. Carson could command a room, too—
But, he reminded himself, he had promised her that he wouldn't use time alone with her to try to ingratiate himself and impress her father by proxy. It was what she was expecting, and he needed to be unexpected.
So he turned his attention toward the mirror behind the bar to watch her approach, and saw her silky eyebrow twitch upward. He had intentionally taken a stool in the middle of three unoccupied ones. "This seat taken?" she murmured.
He shook his head, lifting his drink. God, it tasted good. She sat down and crossed her smooth legs and the sight of them sent a frisson of arousal straight down his spine. "Definitely not, beautiful."
Her lips quirked up. "You don't let up, do you."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"You." She gazed at him, that same wariness on her face. When he didn't avert his gaze, she looked disappointed. The bartender approached, and she tapped the menu with her fingernail. "I'll take a... Star Eddie."
Her drink, once it arrived, was impressive; its color was a subtle gradient from yellow at the top, through green, to blue at the bottom. She took a sip and gave the expectant bartender a smile of approval.
"So tell me about yourself," he said, once the bartender had moved on to the next customer.
She took another sip of her drink. "Why?"
"Because I'm interested."
She shook her head. "You invited me to a bar," she said. "Not a movie or a museum. Bars are for drinking. We're here so you can have an excuse for what you hope might be about to happen. Plausible deniability."
"An alibi."
Her nostrils flared for a split second. "Yeah. And there are two ways tonight can end. One's in bed—which is off the table. The other is with shaking hands and taking separate taxis home."
"Not another date."
She shrugged. "Unlikely," she said, her tone brisk. "I don't like being anyone's means to an end."
"Neither do I."
"Oh?"
His heart seemed to rise into his throat as he turned to her, gazing directly into her eyes, challenging her. "You want me to prove to you that I'm no different from anyone else—especially, it sounds like, some particularly douchey past employees. I don't know if I am or not. I do know that when I saw you, I thought you looked beautiful. And I went out of my way to stay out of your way."
"Why would you do that?"
"Because I have no intention of jeopardizing my career. I'm going to get my dream job by working my ass off, not by leveraging the heart of my boss's only child. And I have a feeling that you and I are going to end up really, really involved, or despising each other. The latter, I wouldn't like. The former... well, the timing is all wrong."
Her blue eyes were gazing directly into his. "So what are we doing here?"
He shrugged. "To hell the consequences," he said, his voice low, rough. He saw her eyes widen slightly. "We have tonight and I'm sick of fighting it. So tell me now."
"Tell you what?"
"Whether you'll let me prove you wrong, or if you're too scared. Because you have nothing to lose, right? I want to get to know you—you, not you as your father's daughter, you. I want to take you back to my place tonight and talk to you until I can't see straight. I want to drain it all, every drop, and see if I'll ever have my fill of you."
Her gaze dropped to his lips, then went back to his eyes. She took a breath, then reached for her glass and drained it. "No sex," she said.
He held up his hands, palms out. "No sex," he agreed. "I mean, if the night ends with us playing strip poker and you just can't keep your hands off me, well, that's your choice, beautiful."
She shot him a look. Then, despite herself, she chuckled. "No, really," he added. "That's not what this is about. Are you... did you feel it? The way things seem to slow down when we meet?"
The tip of her tongue flicked out, swiping against the corner of her mouth, almost idly. Her smile had faded, as though it had never been there. "How we feel doesn't matter," she told him, her voice low. "What we do is different."
"Mmm."
The bartender came to take Nancy's glass, then raised his eyebrows. She looked down at the menu again, humming softly. "What do you recommend?" she asked him, then peered at him from under her eyelashes. Ned seriously considered ordering an iced water just to cool himself down. If she really did go back to his place with him, he wasn't sure he wouldn't spontaneously combust.
And she knew what she was doing to him. She giggled when the bartender joked with her, when he flirted with her. Ned couldn't believe how jealous it made him feel, to see it. Once the two of them had settled on her drink order, Nancy turned to Ned again, her face still a little flushed, her lips turned up.
It was ridiculous, how badly he wanted to kiss her.
"You can't truly think that either one of us is going to forget what we are."
Her elbow was resting on the bar, her hand draped against the edge. Ned reached over and traced the side of her hand with his fingertips. Just that slight contact made his breath catch. He kept his gaze on her beautiful face, and saw the answering flicker, so quick he could have missed it.
"Is that what frightens you? Never forgetting who you are?"
She pressed her lips together. "You don't get to psychoanalyze me, Nickerson."
He shrugged, but didn't move his hand. If she wanted, she could easily move her own. "And you're so closed off that there's no way you'd actually go home with me tonight," he said, keeping his gaze locked to hers. "That would mean being too vulnerable."
"You mean not wanting to fight you off when you try to get me in bed."
"Every woman who's ever been in my bed has been more than willing. I don't intend on ever changing that. When I said I wanted to get to know you, I didn't mean what color your underwear is."
The bartender broke the spell when he returned with her drink. Both of them took deep breaths, and Ned picked up his glass.
"You're too smooth for your own good."
Ned met her eyes in the mirror over the bar. She took a thoughtful sip of her drink. Then her gaze returned to his for a long moment. He didn't break it; he didn't say anything, either.
"So you agree?"
"Maybe."
She smiled very quickly. "Nothing else to say?"
He turned to look straight at her. "I'm not going to beg you," he said. "I'll have another drink and then I'll go home. I have no doubt you can find my address if you want to see me."
"I thought you were the one chasing me."
"Who followed who here?" He gave her a brief smile. "I have a feeling that you'll be able to persuade yourself a lot more easily than I will."
"Telling me that you just want to grill me for the rest of the night is hardly compelling."
"So you'd find something else more interesting." He propped his chin on his hand, studying her face. He saw a strange glint in her eyes, and wondered if the drinks were finally getting to her. "Something we can do drunk that doesn't involve getting naked. We can play a game. We have a lot of games back at my place. We could watch a movie."
She drew a breath, then gave her head a slight shake. "Let's take a cab," she suggested.
Ned couldn't help it. His face lit up in a grin. "Great," he said, still grinning. "Sorry. I don't seem to have any filters anymore."
"All the more reason." She downed the rest of her drink. "Let's get out of here."
This is a monumentally bad idea.
A small part of her brain was very aware of that. The rest of her, though... the rest of her was undeniably intrigued. He wasn't what she expected. Or maybe he was, and he was just very, very good at hiding it.
She had to work hard not to think about Sean when Ned made her laugh, and then it hardly seemed worth it. Remembering Sean just steeled her resolve. She would string Ned along, then treat him like a disposal doormat of a boyfriend she had been entitled to pluck from the pool of interns. It would be easy to have her father dismiss him, and then he would be too bitter and angry to do anything about it. A messy, fiery breakup. A cautionary tale for anyone else who wanted to try it.
Frigid bitch. Ice princess. Let them all know that. She would be no one's vault up the ladder.
The words were comforting, but when the cab pulled to a stop in front of what was presumably Ned's apartment building, she still felt nervous. And for what? she asked herself. She had bested criminals who were more physically intimidating than Ned. Her stilettos would do some serious damage if she needed them to. As little as she trusted him not to hurt her, she believed that he wouldn't assault her. He cared too much about his career to do that.
Then his hand brushed hers, and her heart skipped a beat.
This was what she was afraid of. Not anything he might do. She stiffened her resolve.
You really want to keep him interested? Go home, right now. Leave him disappointed and wanting more.
But she didn't make some excuse and give him a meaningful grin to promise more. She followed him inside. Somewhere in there, his hand wrapped around hers, and the sensation overwhelmed everything else for a moment.
"So, it's not much..." Ned shrugged as he ushered her into his place. "I'm gonna get comfortable. Want to borrow something?"
Nancy's eyebrows immediately shot up. "Um..."
"Up to you. Everything I have will swallow you whole, but I'll grab something and if you want to change..." He gave her a grin, walking toward a short hallway. "Bathroom's right there. I'll make us drinks in a minute."
He hadn't immediately tried to kiss her or invite her to his bedroom. Nancy pressed her lips together before stepping out of her stilettos, reluctantly. She walked in her stockings, her heavy wool coat still wrapped around her, over to his entertainment center. Damn him for offering to let her change; it was nice to have her shoes off, but it would be too much, too familiar. No way to quickly leave if she wore his clothes.
No framed photos were displayed on the walls—of course not; the place was a rental—but several were clustered on the entertainment center. An older man who had to be Ned's father, given the strong resemblance, his arm wrapped around the shoulders of a woman with white hair. Her eyes were twinkling, and her crow's feet were charming. Beside that photo, she saw Ned in the center of a group of guys, all in caps and gowns, all beaming. No photos of Ned with girlfriends, past or present. She saw photos of another guy who looked Ned's age, with black hair and strong eyebrows. He wasn't in the graduation photo. She didn't think he and Ned were related, but they could be. He had his arm around a tall girl who was beaming toward the camera.
"Mike and Jan." Nancy jumped slightly; she hadn't wanted to be caught like this. "Mike's my roommate. He and Jan have been dating since we were all at Emerson together."
"Oh." She glanced back at him. He wore a gray t-shirt and black sweatpants, and though he had been handsome in his suit, his more casual clothes didn't make him any less attractive.
Why did she keep forgetting? Because he was disarming. She couldn't count the number of times she had been charmed by a suspect, by a criminal—
And Ned was neither. At least, as far as she knew.
"I'm sorry. I'll crank the heat up." He left a short stack of folded clothes on the arm of the couch and headed toward the thermostat. The apartment was undeniably warmer than the air outside; Chicago was undeniably deep in winter, complete with slush-choked sidewalks and wind so cold it made her bones ache.
"You look like you're ready to bolt," he said, as she heard the air begin to circulate. He gave her a small smile. "Want a glass of water? Some chips to soak up all we had to drink?"
He seemed so very much at ease, but of course he would be; it was his apartment. "A glass of water," she replied, and slowly took her coat off. Even that felt like a concession, one she wasn't sure she should make. "I'll—be right back."
How often did he invite girls back to his apartment? It was clearly a bachelor pad. The bathroom was strictly utilitarian, with no decorative touches whatsoever. After she washed her hands, Nancy looked at the sweatpants and sweatshirt, debating, then sighed. If she wanted to send him a message that she was off-limits, would it be better or worse for her to walk out of the bathroom in his clothes?
She couldn't deny, though, that the clothes were a lot more comfortable than her tight party dress. She padded back into the main room in a pair of his socks, so blinding white that they had clearly never been worn. That, or she had to find out his secret. Even Hannah had never managed to make a worn pair of socks look new again.
Ned gave her a grin when she laid her dress over an armchair so it wouldn't wrinkle, then tucked her fingers into the overlong cuffs of the sweatshirt. Two tall glasses of water were on the coffee table in front of the couch, each on a coaster. So at least they were a little civilized. He had stacked some textured wheat crackers and cheese slices on a plate, too.
"Very fancy."
"This is about as fancy as it gets around here, especially when I'm pulling an all-nighter and trying not to crash." He gestured to the couch beside him, the remote at his other hand. "Movie?"
She shrugged, perching at the edge of the couch cushion. "Sure. Whatever."
He raised an eyebrow. "Action movie means I'm a typical guy, and romance means I'm trying to impress you," he said. "A raunchy comedy will make you think I'm still trying to get you in bed, maybe. Or that I'm just a chauvinist pig."
"You're going to be great at jury analysis."
He laughed. "Let me see what's on the cable channels... I still want to talk, anyway. And we'll have plenty of commercials to ignore..."
He selected one that was going to end in fifteen minutes, followed by another that seemed promising, then handed her a water glass. She smiled and looked down at it. She hadn't told anyone where she was going. That was stupid. Some drugs were undetectable to human senses, even in water...
"Want to pour your own? Or we can swap." He raised his eyebrows. "Or are you more a whiskey kind of girl."
She shrugged and took a sip of her own water. She had misread people before, but not in a while, and she took him at his word—about that, anyway. "So," she said, accepting the cracker-and-cheese stack he offered her. "You went to Emerson?"
"Yeah. Fraternity brother—president during my last semester. Sponsored a lot of service projects. Watching my brothers put together school supply kits for the elementary school..." He chuckled, shaking his head. "Or the bake sale. God, the bake sale. They were hilarious."
"Let me guess. You use your oven for baking frozen potato skins, and frozen pizza, and that's about it."
"Yeah. Mike's not a great cook, and I'm even worse. It was a running joke at the frat house. What about you?"
Nancy shrugged. "I'm decent," she said, a smile flirting with her lips.
"And I do a mean cracker-and-cheese sandwich."
They didn't pay any attention at all to the movie, and Nancy blamed the buzz she still felt, from his proximity or more likely from the alcohol. They kept talking, about their childhoods, about school, about the ridiculous fine details that seemed to come out on first dates: favorite color, favorite movie, favorite book. When she mentioned her father in passing, she always cringed a little—but she didn't have to tell Ned who her father was, or break the news to him that she investigated mysteries whenever she could. He already knew, and if his interest in her cases was feigned, he feigned it well.
When Ned took a bathroom break, Nancy settled back on the couch, realizing with some surprise that she was relaxed. Talking to Ned felt natural, and though she felt some anxiety—
She wanted to impress him. She wanted him to like her.
All the better to break his heart.
But that wasn't it. She remembered how Sean had been at the beginning. He had gazed at her like the sun rose and set in her eyes. He had been full of compliments. He had made a show of picking up the check when they went out, and he had never wanted to go back to his place. Later, she had realized that he had likely been seeing other girls while he had been dating her, and the evidence would have been impossible to hide completely. Especially given everything else. When she had, blushing, put off his advances, moving away from his wandering hands, of course to him it hadn't mattered. He had been going home to other people.
When he came back and sat down beside her, she looked over at him. "Are you seeing anyone?"
His eyebrows went up. "I've been on a couple of dates in the past few months, but nothing serious."
"You mean, since we first met?"
He smiled. "I don't know if I'd call that meeting. You hardly seemed to realize I was there."
"Yeah, well." She looked down at the mug of tea he had made for her, her hands cupped around it. "You have tea."
"I like tea," he said mildly. "And no, if I had a girlfriend I wouldn't have come onto you tonight. You're starting to make me think that you have some really shitty exes."
She shrugged. "What could I tell you that would make you run screaming in the other direction?"
"That you killed one of them?" He smiled. "Or—actually, if our politics aren't compatible. From everything I know about your father, I feel like it's unlikely, but you know what they say."
"Like how ministers' children are always wild?" She smiled too. "No, Dad and I pretty much agree. On a few things he's not as progressive as I am, but..." She shrugged.
"Good." Ned settled back, his arm resting on the back of the couch. "What could I tell you that would make you run screaming?"
She turned toward him, folding one leg so she could tuck her foot underneath her. "I'll be sure to let you know when it happens."
He grinned so that his eyes crinkled, and her heart skipped a beat again. "When, or if?"
"We'll see."
He took a breath, then moved toward her, brushing a loose curl from her cheek. She blinked, feeling the warmth radiating from his fingers. Frigid bitch.
Nothing about the party, about this, went the way she had thought it would. Nothing about him was the way she had expected. And it had to be some combination of the alcohol and the recent breakup, and—
His dark eyes were so warm when she met his gaze again. "I'm about to do something I shouldn't," he whispered.
"Oh?"
"Just like I shouldn't have let Nessie introduce us..."
"Oh. Vanessa." He was slowly coming closer to her. "Why?"
"Because the timing's wrong," he whispered. His gaze dropped to her lips, then moved back to her eyes. "I need to stay the hell away from you and work my ass off... and now that you... you're here..."
"Mmm?" She couldn't help it. She peered at him through her lashes, knowing full well what that might do.
His lips brushed against hers, his arm slid around her, and Nancy released a soft moan. She hadn't been so reckless since she was eighteen. To be at his place, like this...
A key scraped in the lock, and they sprang apart, a flush rising in Nancy's cheeks. She felt an absurd impulse to hide, an equally absurd fear that her father was the one unlocking the door to Ned's apartment—but the man with the dark hair and strong eyebrows was walking in. "Ned, I—oh!"
"Hey Mike." Ned looked sheepish.
"Sorry. Sorry. Let me just grab a drink, and I'll be in my room."
Nancy cleared her throat, smoothing her hair. "I should get going," she murmured.
Ned touched her arm, and she just gazed at him until Mike quietly went to his room. She could still feel that warmth in her face. "This was nice," she said, and her heart gave a hard beat. She wasn't lying. She felt, suddenly, too vulnerable to lie.
Ned looked like he wanted to persuade her to stay, but he finally just sighed, and a prickle of disappointment went down her spine. "Yeah," he agreed. "Look, do you want to hang out tomorrow?"
Her eyebrows rose. "Um..."
"Even if it's just for a few hours. I... in a few weeks we'll both be back at school and it won't be as easy to... and I really don't want to say goodnight just yet, but..."
She nodded. "I think I can do that," she said, and his answering smile sent a wave of warmth through her chest.
Putting her dress and stockings back on was bad enough, but putting the stilettos back on her tired feet almost made her groan. At Ned's door, he reached for her again, his hand resting on her arm, warm through her coat.
"Are you all right? To get home?"
She nodded. "I'm okay. I'll catch the train back."
He raised his eyebrows. "I'll go with you," he said.
She touched his arm when he began to move away, presumably to find shoes and his keys. "Don't worry about it, really. I'll be fine."
He reached up and clasped her hand gently. "Then at least let me escort you to the train station," he said. "Especially at this time of night. Dressed like that..."
"Like what?"
"Beautiful."
Warmth swept over her. "You really don't have to."
"I know. But I am."
They shared a cab to the train station, and she didn't know how or when, but they ended up holding hands during most of the trip. Ned admitted that, partially to make up for the time at the party, he had volunteered to take a shift helping with discovery on Sunday afternoon. She agreed to meet him after, even though she feared she was making a huge mistake.
Sean. Sean all over again.
But Ned walked her to the ticket counter, taking her hand once she had purchased her ticket and looked up the next train's departure. "We didn't have long enough," he told her.
She smiled. "All night wouldn't have been long enough?"
He shook his head, then stepped in close to her. "Not nearly," he said, his gaze moving between her eyes and her lips. "And I really wish Mike had stayed over at Jan's tonight."
Nancy couldn't move; all she could do was gaze at him, knowing that he wanted to kiss her, and knowing that she wanted him to. "And then it would have been two o'clock..."
"And I would have wanted to ask you to stay over." He gave her a small smile. "I like the way you look in my clothes. I... need to shut up."
Their gazes stayed locked, and her lips parted when his arm slid around her waist. "Thank you for a very surprising evening," she murmured.
"And thank you for giving me a chance," he said.
He was tall and warm, all hard muscle, undeniably handsome. Smart and funny and charming. She needed to run.
When it came to danger, Nancy was generally the one running toward it.
She reached up and touched his cheek. "Don't make me regret it."
He shook his head, and just before he brushed his lips against hers again, he whispered, "Never."