Sisters in Love (Snow Sisters, Book One: Love in Bloom Series #1) (22 page)

“Out partying until four in the morning
again?” Danica teased.

“No. In fact, I was in bed by ten.”

Of course
. “Up fooling around till
four?”

Kaylie sighed. “What’s up, Dan? I’ve got a
gig tonight and need to start getting ready.”

She’d almost forgotten that it was Friday. “I
miss you. Meet me for lunch tomorrow?”

“Sure, and Camille’s wedding is Sunday, so
we’ll see each other then, too.”

The last thing Danica wanted was to go to the
wedding and see Blake. She’d kept herself busy enough that she
hadn’t pined over him since they’d kissed. At least not too much.
She had no idea what to expect of her crazy heart when she came
face-to-face with him all dolled up in a tuxedo.
Everyone looks
handsome in a tuxedo
.
Crap
. “Yup. Felby’s, noon?”

“Great, see you then.”

Danica sorted through her files for the
coming week, setting a stack to take home and review and another
stack to follow up with the clients who were due a phone call. When
the phone on her desk rang, she glanced at the clock. It was after
five o’clock. Normally, she’d pick up the phone, but she was trying
to change that neurotic part of herself, wasn’t she? Trying to
reclaim some sort of a personal life. She stared at the phone,
trying to decide if the pull she felt toward just letting it go to
voice mail was another hint that she should think about opening the
youth center.

The phone rang on.

The hell with that
. Who was she
kidding? She had no personal life, and even if she did decide to
open the youth center, she still had to be present for her clients
until the day she closed her office doors permanently. She reached
for the phone. “Hello?”

“Danica?”

Her heart skipped a beat.
Blake
. “Um,
yeah. Hi.”

“Hi, I’m sorry to bother you. I know you’re
busy.”

Danica listened with her voice caught in her
throat.

“I really hate the way things ended, and I’m
sorry. Listen, do you think we could meet somewhere and talk?”
Before she could answer, he added, “No funny stuff. I promise. I
can even come to your office. I just don’t feel right about…Well,
do you have time?”

Danica quickly scanned her office, searching
for an answer that wasn’t there. If she met him, she’d be forced to
confront her inability to keep work and her own desires
separate—even if only this once, with just this one client. It was
an admission that she wasn’t sure she could face. Facing the truth
would definitely mean giving up her career.

“I understand if you don’t want to. I mean,
it’s not like you owe it to me or anything. In fact, I might be
asking only so I can clear my own conscience.”

What?

“Shit, that didn’t come out right. That’s not
what I meant at all. Look, I can’t stop thinking about you. When
Monday came around, I sat at my desk and stared into space,
wondering what we would have talked about, and I realized that it
was
you
I missed talking to, not just the advice you gave
me, but
you
.”

“Okay.”
What are you doing?
She bit
her lower lip and turned to look out the window.

“Okay?”

She heard the unexpected enthusiasm in the
cadence of his voice. “Sure, we can talk.”

“Great, where? When? Want me to come
there?”

He sounded like a bumbling boy with a crush,
and it made Danica laugh despite her reservations about meeting
him. She quickly thought about where they should meet. Someplace
public. Someplace where she wouldn’t risk letting her emotions take
over. Someplace she could test his ability to focus on her instead
of the women around her.
This is so wrong. What a bitch to think
like that. Shit. What am I doing? Maybe I should forget the whole
thing
. “I don’t know if this is—”

“Please, don’t,” he pleaded. “I’m not that
guy who walked into your office a few weeks ago. I promise I’m not.
Please, just talk to me.”

Danica sighed. “Okay.” If they met at her
office, it would be easier to keep her professional facade.

“Can I take you to dinner?”

Dinner? A date? Am I overthinking? It’d be
public
. “Um, I’m not sure—”

“Danica, please?”

Danica placed her hand over her racing heart.
“Yeah, okay, sure.”

“The Embers? Should I pick you up?”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll meet you there.”

“Seven?”

Danica needed some modicum of control.
“Eight.”

“Okay, then. Eight it is. Thank you, Danica.
I’ll see you then.”

I’m in trouble
.

Danica walked the five long blocks to the
restaurant, hoping that by the time she arrived, the butterflies in
her stomach would get tired of fluttering around. The restaurant
came into view, and she stopped to survey her outfit one last time.
Beneath her long, quilted coat, she wore a black pencil skirt that
ended just above her knees, her favorite Nine West heels—the only
ones she didn’t mind walking five blocks in—and a white, low-cut
blouse. Before she’d left the condo, she’d felt she looked
appropriate for an evening business meeting; now, as her heart
pounded and her cheeks flushed, she wondered if her skirt was too
tight and her blouse too low.

She took a deep breath and hoped the snow
that was threatening the night sky would wait until after midnight,
as expected. Her hands grew clammy despite the cold air.
It’s
just dinner with a client
.
Then why am I worried about my
hands suddenly shooting across the table and touching him?
She
shoved them in her fur-lined pockets. She concentrated on the
sidewalk and approached the entrance to the restaurant.

The Ember's dim lighting sent the butterflies
flurrying again. Danica took off her coat, surprised by her
trembling hands.

“Party of one?” the hostess asked.

I wish
. “No, two. I’m meeting someone
here.”

The hostess looked at the roster of patrons
on the podium before her, then looked up with a smile.
 “Danica Snow?”

“Yes, that’s me.” She felt like she was on a
blind date. Danica sucked in her stomach and forced a smile.

The hostess turned. “Follow me. Your party is
right this way.”

She followed the young woman down the
restaurant corridor, into the main dining room, and through an
archway in the back of the restaurant. Her chest tightened. Every
step was like walking in wet concrete. She clenched her jaw against
the urge to flee, and by the time she’d come up with enough excuses
to turn and run away—I’m suddenly ill…I left my kettle on—she was
standing beside a booth and Blake was coming to his feet, leaning
toward her, kissing her cheek.

The hostess put a menu down on Danica’s side
of the booth. “Enjoy your dinner.”

“Thank you,” Danica managed. She sat down,
trying not to stare hungrily at the opening at the top of Blake’s
white, button-down dress shirt. He had a ridiculous smile on his
lips, and Danica felt a bit like she was on display. She fiddled
with her neckline, pulling her blouse across her cleavage, and then
watched the shirt slide right back into place, this time knowing
the plunging neckline was too revealing.
Great
.

“I’m so glad you agreed to meet me. You look
beautiful.”

Thank you? Did I say that? Did I think it?
Shit
.

Blake smiled. “Sorry. I probably shouldn’t
tell you that.” He looked down at the table.

“No, it’s okay.”
I guess I didn’t say it
after all.

He looked back up at her. “I’m sorry. I don’t
mean for this to be awkward. I wish there was some way we could
just pretend that we’ve just met or something.”

Had he read her mind? She was wishing for the
same thing. “Maybe that’s not a bad idea.”

Blake extended his hand across the table.
“Hi, I’m Blake Carter. Previous player, ski shop owner, mediocre
friend—but I’m working on that.”

Danica shook his hand. “Danica Snow,
therapist, sister, and, well, I’m probably only a mediocre friend,
too.” She didn’t want to take her hand back. The feel of his soft
palm enveloping her slim hand brought a rush of flutters to her
stomach. She wondered if the tension behind his eyes was driven by
the same heady feeling she was experiencing. Trying to find a
balance between desire and appropriateness was not something she
was accustomed to. She had never had the problem of business and
desire coalescing. But ever since that kiss, Danica had been
thinking more and more seriously about letting go of her therapy
license altogether and following her dream instead of her
parents’.

They both released their grip at the same
time. Danica blew out a breath. “Okay, now that the formalities are
over...” She heard her therapist voice coming from her lips. Her
safe haven. She swallowed that voice and allowed her everyday voice
to take over for once. “How have you been?” It took all of her
focus not to allow her typical client-therapist follow-up questions
to come spewing out of her mouth. “How’s Sally?” A safe topic.

Blake flagged over the waitress and ordered a
bottle of wine. After the waitress went to retrieve the bottle, he
looked a bit more relaxed than he had the moment before. Danica saw
the attentiveness in his eyes that she’d noted in the café the
first time they’d met—right before he’d looked at the blonde. Now
he held her gaze, never wavering toward the attractive waitress or,
Danica noted, even turning toward the sounds of three comely women
laughing around a small table in the corner of the room.
Chalk
one up for Blake
.

Danica listened as he described the scene
that unfolded when he’d told Sally about the other woman. “And I
guess our town is smaller than I’d ever thought, because Rusty
stormed in, armed with information about his father having another
son.”

The waitress poured them each a glass of wine
and took their orders. Danica leaned one elbow on the table, taking
in the acceptance in Blake’s voice about the revelation that Dave
wasn’t someone other than what he portrayed. The way he looked at
Danica, like she was the only one in the room, pulled her right
in.

“Danica, I didn’t come to talk about Sally
and Rusty.”

Danica repositioned herself in her seat.
Me neither.

“And I didn’t ask you to meet me to make you
uncomfortable.”

Too late
. For the first time in her
life, she had the urge to kick off her heels under the table and
run her toes up the inside of his pant leg.
What on earth is
happening to me?
She dug her heels into the carpet beneath her
feet.

“I don’t know how we went from talking about
my life, to,” he leaned across the table and spoke softly,
“kissing.”

Danica was thankful for his apparent respect
for their privacy.

“But it did, and I’m not sorry about that. I
know I should be, but ever since that day when I whacked your nose,
I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind.”

Danica was usually the direct one. She
fiddled with the napkin in her lap, suddenly at a loss for words.
She wasn’t sorry either, but it
was
wrong. She dropped her
eyes, thinking about what she was going to say—what she really
felt. Butterflies, wandering toes, and the way she secretly
salivated at his touch, took over any restraint she knew she should
portray. “I’m not sorry either.” She met his eyes and watched them
dart from her eyes to her mouth. She lifted her hand and covered
her Cindy Crawford mole.

He reached across the table and gently
touched her wrist, using pressure so light it was almost
nonexistent, to move her hand away from her face. “Don’t. You’re
beautiful. Everything about you is beautiful.”

Danica’s voice escaped her.
I’m a
goner.

The waitress brought their meals, and they
spent the next twenty minutes pushing food around on their plates
and making small talk. They finished the bottle of wine and the
waitress brought another.

“Oh, no, thank you,” Danica said. She was
already tipsy, and she didn’t want to wake up tomorrow sorry for
whatever she might do while under the influence of alcohol. She
wasn’t Kaylie, after all. Kaylie could pull off the morning-after
routine well, but Danica was all flustered words and embarrassment.
She lived in the shadow of her profession, worried that someone
would find out if she had a sordid one-night stand. She desperately
wanted to throw caution to the wind just this once, but her
professional persona still held the reins on her mind—even if they
were becoming stretched and frayed with each passing second.

“No, I don’t suppose we do,” Blake agreed. He
set his napkin on the table and leaned back. “Are you up for a
walk?”

A kiss or a walk?
Jesus,
Danica
.

They walked toward town as snow began to
fall. At first it was just a few light flakes, but within ten
minutes they were walking amid a thick winter storm, which was not
unusual for Colorado. Danica and Blake walked side by side, hands
shoved deep in their pockets. They neared the center of town, where
a brick, circular patio hosted ornate, iron benches.

Blake stopped beneath one of the
old-fashioned streetlights. “Wanna head back to my car?” Blake
asked.

That was the last thing Danica wanted to do.
Walking beside Blake helped to settle her fluttering stomach. The
crisp air revitalized her, freezing her worry about what she might
do and replacing it with a modicum of ease. Outside, she was free
and there was room to breathe. In a car, she’d be trapped. She
stole a glance at his profile. With his angular nose and
snow-spotted hair, he could be a model, shot in a commercial for
some manly cologne. God, he was gorgeous. He caught her looking,
and this time she didn’t look away. Her heart thundered in her
chest. Her nerves tingled with desire, and it was as if she had no
control over her muscles. She was powerless to turn away.