ONE NIGHT ONLY

Chapter 9

Yeah, Rosa knew how he felt about her; Philip saw the sudden knowledge widen her dark eyes, felt her unease in her new stillness. Trying to deflect him with sarcasm, she kept her tone light.

"Never hated me, eh? That must be why you always left the room whenever I showed up. Also why you never smiled at me, never talked to me and pretty much pretended I didn’t exist the whole time Jake was alive. You even managed to ignore me every time you came here for dinner, and that was a real trick." Rosa smacked her forehead. "Gosh. Wow. I don’t know where I ever got the idea that I wasn’t your favorite person. You’ll have to forgive me, okay? I’m so stupid. Duh."

A sudden flash of insight hit him: her bravado hid a wound that had scabbed but never healed. Seeing it surprised and pained him; surprised because he hadn’t thought she cared enough about him to be much bothered by his aloofness over the years, pained because he would have died rather than hurt her. Ever.

"What should I have done," he wondered, "about my feelings for my best friend’s wife?"

She gaped and he took advantage of her silence.

"Should I have told Jake, ‘Hey, man, you know your wife, right? I just thought I’d mention that I want her more than I’ve ever wanted another woman in my life. Hope you don’t mind.’ I don’t think that conversation would’ve gone so well, Rosa. Do you?"

Rosa didn’t move and yet vibrated with something that looked barely controlled, primal. He wanted to touch her, to see if he could break through her walls and shatter her reserve, but he kept his hands to himself and tried to take this slow and easy.

"Wanted?" she echoed faintly. "Don’t men always want what they can’t have?"

Oh, no. That wouldn’t work. "Don’t do that," he told her, vehement. "Don’t dismiss this. I remember everything about you. I remember the blue dress you wore the day I met you—"

She gasped with surprise.

"—and I remember that you ordered an amaretto sour when I took you and Jake out for a drink after you both passed the bar exam. I remember the way you touched my arm at my father’s funeral—"

"Philip—"

"—and I still have the sympathy card you sent me. Do you remember what you wrote? I do. ‘I hope that in the days to come you’ll take comfort in your memories and the support of your friends. Love, Rosa.’" He paused, choked on the backlog of emotion. "Are you getting the picture yet?"

She was, judging by the sparkle of tears in her eyes, but he still didn’t think she quite got it, so he did a little more convincing. "You’re smart, you’re funny and you’re strong. You took care of Jake when he was dying and you did it with courage and grace. You’re raising an amazing kid, all by yourself. And you make my heart stop every time I look at you."

Ah, hell. He hadn’t meant to say that last part. Too late to take it back now.

"My God," she said. "Why now, Philip?"

Taking what felt like an even bigger risk, he reached for her fisted hands, uncurled them and raised one soft palm to his lips. He kissed it and let his eyes roll closed at the thrill of her tiny sigh. "Because you’ve had two years to mourn and you’ve started dating again. And I can’t stay away from you for one more second."

One solitary tear trickled down her cheek as she looked to a framed photo of Jake sitting on the mantelpiece next to the simple black urn that held his ashes. Philip had no intention of letting a ghost come between them, so he slid onto the chair next to her, purposely blocking her view of Jake.

She watched him with eyes that were wary and, beneath that, sultry.

"Don’t think about him, sweetheart." Cupping her face between his hands, Philip lowered his head until her sweet breath feathered his lips. "Think about me. Think about us."

And then he kissed her.