Our First Kiss

Marcy turned her head to stare at Nathan’s intense profile. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, and his brow was furrowed in concentration. Uh-oh, he was thinking, and instinctively, she knew she wouldn’t like the conclusion he had evidently come to.

Finally, the car stopped outside of her apartment. He helped her out, and they walked through the cold night air into the building. The ride in the elevator was silent, confirming her earlier suspicion that he was rethinking his decision to stay with her tonight. They got off on her floor, and she unlocked the door and stepped inside waiting for him to do the same.

“I’m not coming in, Marcy.” He proved her fears to be correct.

“But, I thought...” Her voice trailed off.

“I know.”

“The drive gave you time to think, didn’t it?” She smiled slightly despite her obvious disappointment.

“Yes, thankfully,” he admitted.

“Why thankfully?” she murmured, debating whether or not to make him forget his newfound resolve.

“We’re moving way too fast,” he remarked, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets to keep from touching her, and she smiled at his actions. She doesn’t miss anything.

“Yes, we are moving fast,” she agreed.

“That’s not what I expected you to say.” He somberly studied her gorgeous face.

“Maybe this is.” She paused before continuing. “We’re moving fast but not too fast. I’m not trying to pass some time with you Nathan. I don’t want a brief affair,” she confessed.

“I’d be disappointed if you were or did.”

A brief affair was all he had to offer, and it wasn’t what he wanted with her. She desired stability, permanency and roots—none of those things had a place in his life right now, which is why he had no place in hers.

“What are you thinking?” She leaned against the door and smiled at him thoughtfully. “What do you want, Nathan?”

He remained silent as he pondered her question. It wasn’t that he couldn’t tell her what he wanted; it was that he didn’t dare. He wanted her—not just for a night but for dozens of nights, endless nights.

“Good night, Marcy.” He valiantly fought not to kiss her and somehow succeeded. Quickly turning, he walked toward the elevator.

“You didn’t answer my question,” she called after him, and he turned to somberly face her.

“I know,” he agreed before the elevator doors closed.

“Damn,” she whispered as a smile played about her lips. She didn’t understand why he was bent on ignoring the attraction between them, but she was just as adamant that he wouldn’t succeed. “This makes two times, and it’s the last time I allow you to walk out on me, Mr. Carter,” she promised with a determined smile as she closed the door.

* * *

Two days later, Natasha walked down the aisle and married Marcy’s brother. Marcy had never seen either of them look happier and had never been happier for them. Natasha had been a beautiful bride in the dress Nicole designed. The tiny waist accentuated her figure; the full skirt was reminiscent of southern belles, and moved as though it was a part of her. Satin bows trailed down the back of the gown. Her shoulders were left bare. Her hair was pinned up, and a crystal tiara was the crowning glory, attached to a cathedral-length veil.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

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