Evening Stars. Susan Mallery

      Which was just like a guy, she thought humorously. “Not everything is about you.”

      “Sure it is. Have dinner with me.”

      “What? No. You’re too young.”

      “It’s only four years and you know you’re curious. We’ll catch up.”

      “We were never friends, Kyle. There’s nothing to catch up on.”

      “Then we’ll get to know each other. I meant what I said. You’re the girl I fantasized about, Nina.” There was that smile. “You’re even better than I remember.”

      She thought about the extra twenty pounds, the wet hair, the lack of makeup. “Are you sure they’re checking your vision regularly?”

      He stood up and crossed to her, then pulled her to her feet. His large hands held hers. His skin was warm, and although she didn’t want to admit it, there was a distinct tingle low in her belly.

      “Nina Wentworth, I have wanted you and been waiting for you for fourteen years. The least you can do is have dinner with me.”

      Her breath actually caught in her throat. She could say with certainty that had never happened before. Not even once. She’d been nervous and interested and aroused, but never...fluttery.

      Suddenly Kyle seemed like a man, in the best possible sense of the word. Gone was the preteen who had stalked her. This new and improved version got her attention in a big way. His gaze never left her face as he dropped her hands, cupped her cheeks and kissed her again.

      This time she was warm and dry and had the wherewithal to notice the gentle warmth of his mouth on hers. He didn’t push, didn’t move, but he lingered, as if he wanted this moment to last forever.

      Or maybe that was her.

      He raised his head. “Dinner,” he murmured. “Say yes.”

      “Yes.”

      “Day after tomorrow?”

      “Sure.”

      He put his hands on her shoulders. “I’ll be here at six. We’ll have dinner. You’ll have a good time.”

      “You know that for sure?”

      That sexy smile returned. “I do.”

      “You’re a player.”

      He raised his eyebrows. “Your tone says you don’t mean that as a compliment.”

      “I don’t. You enjoy women, and for some reason, now you want to enjoy me.” She winced, wishing she’d chosen another phrase.

      “I do,” he said easily. “Very much. All of you.”

      Because he’d had a crush on her years ago.

      “Reality never lives up to the fantasy,” she said.

      “You’re right. Sometimes it’s better.”

      Oh, he was good. Way out of her league. He hadn’t denied her charge. Given the chance, he would seduce her before she’d had a chance to catch her breath.

      Instead of being dismayed by the thought, she had to admit to a little tingle of anticipation. She hadn’t ever been with anyone like Kyle. He was easy to look at, funny and charming. So what if she would be one among no doubt many notches on his bed post? If she knew what she was getting from the outset, then she wouldn’t get emotionally involved and she wouldn’t get hurt. Didn’t she deserve a little “me” time?

      “Dinner,” she said firmly. “At six.”

      “I’m looking forward to it,” he told her as he crossed to the door.

      “I am, too.”

      He paused to study her. “For real?”

      “Yes, Kyle. For real.”

      The smile turned boyish. For a second, she could see the kid he’d been. Then the man returned and winked at her.

      “Good,” he said, before he disappeared into the rain.

      She shut the door behind him, then leaned against it. “What have I done?” she asked aloud.

      Fortunately, there was no answer.

      She wandered toward the kitchen thinking that dinner would be nice. She could use a man adoring her. It would perk up her spirits and brighten her complexion.

      Her cell phone rang. She answered it without checking who it was.

      “Hello?”

      “Hi, Nina, it’s Dylan.”

      Dylan? Her nose wrinkled. Hearing his voice was a bit like taking a bite of broccoli after tasting a hot fudge sundae. Because that’s what Kyle was, she thought humorously. A forbidden dessert.

      “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

      “What? No. Sorry. I just got home from work and I’m still figuring out my evening. How are you? How are you settling back into island life?”

      Guilt, she thought with disgust. She always babbled when she felt guilty. Not that she owed Dylan anything, but here she was, talk, talk, talking.

      “It’s smaller than I remember,” he admitted. “My parents are closer.”

      “And you’re the favorite son.”

      “The only son. It’s intense.”

      “I bet.”

      There was a moment of silence.

      “I have to go to Seattle this weekend,” he said. “But I was wondering if you’d like to have dinner next week, after I’m back.”

      Nina knew for a fact she hadn’t been on a date in nearly eighteen months. Now she’d been asked out twice in one day. Why couldn’t this have been better coordinated? One date last year, one date this year?

      Dinner with Dylan. Although she hadn’t recognized Kyle, she knew everything about Dylan. While she was over him, she was still the tiniest bit bitter about the way things had ended. Which brought the guilt back again, which annoyed her.

      “It wasn’t supposed to be a hard question,” he said quietly.

      Ack! “Sorry, sorry. Sure. Dinner would be great.”

      “You sure?”

      “Absolutely. Give me a call when you’re back and we’ll set up a night. I’ll bring you up to date on all you’ve missed since you’ve been gone. That will take at least fifteen minutes.”

      He chuckled. “I look forward to it. Talk to you soon.”

      “Sure. Have fun in Seattle.”

      She hung up and tossed her phone on the counter.

      If ever there was a time to have wine with dinner, tonight was the night, she thought, heading for the open bottle on the counter. But she would pass on the cookies she’d bought. And go to Pilates at least one more time a week.

      Not that Kyle was ever going to see her naked. But still. A girl could dream.

      Chapter Six

      THE DRIVE FROM Mischief Bay to Blackberry Island was direct. North on I-5 for about 1100 miles, then a left at the arrow pointing to the bridge. Easy enough.

      Now, after spending the night just this side of Sacramento, Averil carefully pulled into a rest stop south of Medford, Oregon. At the rate she was going, she was going to get to the island before dinner, which seemed both good and bad. On the one hand, she was happy to be escaping her life. On the other, she knew she was running away, and that was hardly a situation to make anyone proud.

      She parked her car and got out. The rest area was quiet. There were only a couple of big rigs