Chistmas In Manhattan Collection. Alison Roberts
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She rolled her eyes. “A man who runs into a burning building?”
“I run into burning buildings because there are people inside who need help or when there’s a chance of putting out the fire and saving the building from total destruction.”
Emotion flickered in her gaze, like the shimmering of the sea. She didn’t break eye contact, just narrowed her gaze, as if she fought letting herself believe him. “You don’t get a rush out of fighting fires?”
“I didn’t say that.” He shrugged. “I get a rush when I save someone’s life, but not from the actual going into the burning building or risking my own life.”
Although doing so did make him feel more alive, more like the man he’d been before Nina had fallen for Charles and then died.
Maybe every time he saved a life he somehow felt vindicated that he’d not been able to save the woman he’d loved, that he’d turned his back on her and their friendship when he couldn’t have more. Not that he could have saved Nina. She’d chosen Charles, had died due to childbirth complications. There had been nothing anyone could have done. Had there been, Charles and Jude both would have given their lives for Nina’s.
Except when he fought fires, Jude had felt half-dead since the moment he’d cut Nina completely out of his life, lost his best friend, and destroyed the closeness he’d once shared with his cousin.
He didn’t feel half-dead now. Quite the opposite.
He didn’t recall ever feeling as alive as he felt at this moment, staring into the eyes of a woman who didn’t think much of him, but who was as intrigued by him as he was her, despite the fact that she didn’t want to be.
Which meant what exactly? He didn’t want a relationship, was no longer a relationship kind of guy. These days, he took women to his bed, not to his dining room to feed them a meal he’d cooked.
He sure didn’t long to take women on dates where he showered them with romance and attention to make up for every wrong they’d ever endured.
Yet, looking into Sarah’s eyes, that was exactly what he wanted. Hell.
“I think I’m more your type than you want to admit, Doc.”
* * *
As Sarah helped Jude clear the table and load his dishwasher, his words kept running through her head.
Surprisingly, this was the first silence they’d had as they’d chatted away during dinner. Jude was a great conversationalist. He made intelligent comments, listened with eager ears, and responded with insightful observations.
The few dates she’d ever gone on had left her feeling awkward and socially inept. Eventually, she’d almost quit dating, because why bother? She wasn’t looking for a man in her life, knew what being involved with the wrong man could cost a woman, and didn’t appreciate giving up a night of her life to feel inadequate at the end of the evening.
The few times she’d made exceptions had never ended well.
For instance, the night interesting Kenny Goodall had asked to take her to her first Broadway show. She’d lost the glasses, donned mascara and lipstick, put on a decently fitting dress, and anxiously awaited what had promised to be a wonderful evening.
She’d never felt so mortified, unattractive, and convinced her mother was right in all her life as when she’d discovered he’d forgotten their plans.
Never again would she allow herself to be so humiliated at the hands of a man.
Nothing about her dinner with Jude made her feel inadequate, though. Quite the opposite. She’d enjoyed sharing the meal with him more than she’d have dreamed possible. Maybe because she knew there could never be anything between them.
The fact he’d seemed perturbed she’d written him off as not her type and given him her reasons why surprised her, though. Why would he care?
Sure, she’d felt heat when looking at him and he’d made flirty comments at the hospital and tonight, but the reality was she wasn’t Jude Davenport’s type.
He hadn’t bothered to deny that, had just questioned that he wasn’t hers.
Before having seen that different side of him at the hospital and tonight, she’d have said it was because he was so arrogant he assumed he was every woman’s type.
If gorgeous, intelligent, witty, and full of testosterone were the criteria, then he was.
Sarah glanced around the kitchen, surprised at how quickly they’d gotten everything cleared. Surprised at how amazingly stocked and spacious his kitchen was. She liked the granite countertops, the workstation island, and the stainless-steel appliances.
What she didn’t like was that now there was nothing to occupy her hands, more awkwardness was setting in.
“You want another glass of wine?”
Looking at him in relief, she exclaimed, “Yes!”
He must think her a total slush and she rarely drank. She’d just been grateful for something to do with her hands to ward off her own mental demons. She should leave before the awkwardness and inadequacy set in, reminding that she had nothing in common with him.
He poured her another glass, then one for himself. “Let’s sit on the sofa and look out at the city. It’s my favorite way to end a stressful day.”
So maybe they did have a few things in common. Besides chemistry.
Sarah sat, but couldn’t relax to enjoy the view as she had earlier because Jude sat down beside her. His body wasn’t touching hers, but he was closer than he should be since they were the only two people on his large sofa.
Why had he sat so close? If she took a deep breath, she’d probably brush up against his arm.
She finished off her glass of wine in record time, set the glass on an end table coaster, and stood. Enough was enough. She’d had a mostly enjoyable night with him and wasn’t going to ruin it by staying longer.
“Thank you for the delicious meal, for turning off my smoke detector, and for letting me enjoy your view.”
First placing his glass next to hers on the table, he stood, stared down at her. “You are very welcome, Sarah, but I should be thanking you.”
The intensity in his blue eyes about had her almost sitting back down because of wobbly legs. “For what?”
“Providing excellent dinner company and turning my night into something memorable.”
She hadn’t done that. Wasn’t going to do that. Was that what he thought she was there to do?
“I’d best be going,” she ventured, not breaking eye contact with him but taking a step back.
His eyes twinkled. “In a rush?”
“It’s been a long day. I look forward to going to sleep.” Yes, she had put emphasis on the word “sleep”. “I’m sure you feel the same.”
One side of his mouth crooked upward. “Then I guess I have no choice but to say good night.”
Sarah barely held back her sigh of relief. Which was just as well, because Jude did the unthinkable.
He kissed her.
Just a short peck on her mouth with his warm lips, but one she felt ricochet all the way to her toes and bring every nerve cell to life along the way. The power of Zeus, she thought again, knowing she’d been struck by lightning.
“Goodnight, Sarah,” he said, his lips still so close she could feel his warm breath caress her sensitized mouth. He looked straight into her eyes, his full of what she could only describe as desire.
Desire. For her.
No doubt hers shone the same way.
Because she