One Blazing Night. Jo Leigh

hand into the air again, and a cab pulled up within seconds.

      “Yes. I understand. I’m sorry. I hadn’t meant any disrespect.”

      “I know that, you idiot.” She went to the taxi door but didn’t open it. Yet.

      “Old habit—you got me there,” he said. “That won’t happen again.”

      “Thanks. But I really do have to work. I’ll grab something on the way—”

      “Yeah, but—”

      “What did I just tell you about me being a grown woman?” She opened the passenger door. “Tomorrow. We’ll have dinner tomorrow.” Then she grabbed his shirt, pulled him down a few inches and kissed him square on the mouth. It wasn’t a long kiss, and there was no tongue involved, but it shocked the shit out of him, and by the look on her face as she pulled back, her, too.

      After clearing her throat, she darted into the taxi. But before the door slammed, she said, “Thank you for caring.”

      Matt put his hand on the edge of the passenger door. He stared at her for a few seconds. “Now you’ve done it, kiddo. I will find a way to know this new, beautiful grown-up woman. You can count on it.” Then he stepped back to the curb and watched her taxi drive away until it became a blur among other yellow blurs.

      “Well, I’ll be damned,” he said, then remembered he needed a ride home, too.

      * * *

      THE PICTURE ON Sam’s computer showed a 3-D bridge being built by a Swedish company she followed on Facebook. Their printer was several levels above her new baby. The bridge had thrilled her when she’d first set eyes on it yesterday, and she’d immediately thought of seven different things she could build. She’d have to get a different kind of 3-D printer, but that was okay. When it came to work, she had no hesitation in buying the latest and best equipment. It was also the time she was most grateful about her success. Well, buying fancy printers could never compete with the day she’d bought a house in Cape Cod for her parents. That had been sweet, especially because she’d been able to keep it a secret until the paperwork went through. Talk about a great surprise.

      Kind of like the surprise on Matt’s face after she’d kissed him.

      She’d kissed him.

      Kissed Matt.

      With her own lips. It wasn’t anything epic. Not a Titanic kiss or a Mr. Darcy kiss, but she’d kissed him!

      What the hell had she been thinking?

      It wasn’t even the kiss that was going to do her in, although she’d often thought that if she ever got the opportunity, she would literally die and go to heaven. But no. She was still here. Clark wasn’t, which was good. All she needed was to have Clark come back for something or other he’d forgotten. Pity he didn’t live farther away. When he caught her working late, he scolded her until she quit. Speaking of being scolded...

      She’d said she was a grown-up. A woman to be reckoned with. That last part was implied. But it was all out there now.

      A stand. That was what she’d taken. A STAND.

      Which meant she had to start acting like a grown-up. Not just with Matt, either. She needed to dive into the role with her whole heart. Until even Clark understood he had no right to scold her for anything.

      Oh, God.

      It wasn’t just taking the stand or kissing Matt on the mouth that was going to cause havoc. She’d changed the ground rules. She’d never—

      The broken record of her thoughts jumped to another track. The words he’d spoken at the end. Calling her “kiddo”—that was pretty clever. But his challenge? How could he possibly get to know the grown-up version of herself unless she was that person?

      Maybe she’d—

      The door opened. Clark. Of course. He frowned at her as he went to his desk. “Why are you wearing your running gear?”

      She looked down in surprise, but yes, he was right. “I went running. I just got back a little while ago.”

      “Okay,” he said, still glowering as if she’d stolen the Arkenstone. “And didn’t you say you were going to get some sleep?”

      “Well, yes, Clark, I did. And I will. I mean, why does everyone want to tell me what to do? I’m fine. I’m great. Fit as a fiddle. I’m not a waif begging for a meal. I said I would get to sleep early and—”

      “It’s eleven forty.”

      Everything in her brain stopped with a screech. Eleven forty? Holy... “P.m.?”

      “Yes, p.m.”

      Sighing loudly, her head fell to her upraised hands. When the internal lashing ended, she said, “Why are you here so late?”

      “I forgot my Deadpool comics for Jay.”

      She nodded a little. Boys and their toys. Who was she to talk? She had the entire series of Buffy Dark Horse comics and far too many other collections. Graphic novels. Bobbleheads. Wonder Woman action figure. Lego sets from Star Wars and Star Trek. She moaned again and looked up, hoping Clark was gone, but no luck. He continued to scowl.

      “You practicing for the Dour Looks Olympics? You can do better.”

      “I’m just reminding you of the things you asked me to.”

      “When I was a teenager. Maybe it’s time to stop. It’s been ten years, and you’ve been great at it, but maybe it’s time I take responsibility for my life.”

      “Really?”

      “Yes.”

      He thought about it for an achingly long time. But finally said, “Let’s go a week. Then revisit.”

      She wanted to lay into him so bad, but she held back like an adult. Clark might have a point. She did miss a lot of meals when he was away. But that was then and this was Matt, so... “Fine. One week.”

      How hard could it be?

       5

      SAM BRUSHED A hand down her dress one last time before she walked into Row 34. That Matt had made a reservation for the same day was impressive, but then, the Wilkinson name was a powerful thing in Boston. She had arrived early, as she’d planned, which would give her time to rehearse so she’d be ready when Matt arrived.

      The gleaming restaurant was already packed. She scoped out the crowd as she followed the host, her way illuminated by a long row of low-hanging lights. The industrial-chic seafood place hadn’t changed much since the last time she’d been there, although the clientele seemed more upscale.

      When she finally reached their table, Matt stood by his chair, smiling at her as if his early arrival hadn’t ruined her chance to prepare. Damn. She clutched her purse, feeling the two stacks of three-by-five-inch cards she’d painstakingly filled with alternative versions of the speech she planned to make. Version A was simple. A nice but firm message that while it was lovely to see him, she had to put work first, so this would be their only dinner, but before he left Boston, they could meet for a drink. Period. Version B, on the other hand, wasn’t simple at all.

      She couldn’t resist Matt’s smile, and her heart couldn’t help jumping with a mixture of excitement and want whenever she was in his presence. If she’d thought he was her dream man when she was sixteen, he was proving to be even more tempting to her at twenty-nine. God, he looked mouthwatering in his linen shirt tucked into worn jeans, with a sports jacket that pulled it all together perfectly. Matt had style coming out the wazoo and she was so glad she’d found her wrap dress still in the dry-cleaner bag.

      She thanked the host and took her seat. Pointing to the brochure that sat in the middle of the table, she said, “You brought that?”

      “I