An absolute vision stands before me.
Devin Powell stares at me, mouth open in shock. “What—what are you doing here?”
It takes me a long moment to reply, because looking at her makes me forget how to talk. She’s breathtaking in a black velvety dress that hugs her curves and dips in the front, showing a delicious hint of cleavage. Her dark hair is pulled back into a loose knot, a few tendrils framing her face.
Her blue eyes slide over my face and lower, and her cheeks grow pink.
“I’m here to have dinner with my sister,” I finally say. “What are you doing here?”
She’s on a date, idiot, my inner voice says, and my heart sinks through the sidewalk. Why else would she be here, wearing the hell out of that dress, looking heartbreakingly beautiful? Her date’s not with her, which is probably a good thing. I don’t know if I could restrain myself from snapping his neck.
It’s your fault, the voice goes on. You let her go. Did you think she was going to wait around for you forever?
A look of confusion falls over her delicate features. “I’m here to have dinner with Casey too.”
Huh?
Before I can say another word, a different voice behind me says, “Hey, guys.”
I turn around.
Casey smiles cheerfully at us both. She jams her hands into the pockets of a black bomber jacket. Below the jacket she’s wearing jeans and Adidas.
Decidedly not the proper attire for dinner at the fanciest restaurant in town.
“Casey, what are you doing?” I ask in a low voice.
She steps closer. “What’s needed to be done for a long time.”
“Casey,” Devin says sharply.
My sister holds up her hand. “Before you both get all pissy on me, hear me out. I know you both better than anyone. I was there for the whole story, remember? I know how much you meant to each other back then—how much you loved each other. And I saw how badly you were both hurting after you broke up.”
My throat and chest tighten. I sneak a glance over at Devin. She meets my gaze for a quick second.
“I love you both,” Casey says clearly. “And I know shit got weird after the deployments. But I also know you both still love each other. A lot.”
“Casey,” I say warningly.
She lifts her chin defiantly as she returns my stare. “Tell me I’m wrong, Alex. Call me a liar.”
But I can’t.
Satisfied, Casey continues. “This . . . meeting. Date. Whatever you want to call it. It’s long overdue. And if you’re both too stubborn to make the first move, I love you both enough to be a sneaky little twat and make it myself for you. I’m sorry I lied. And I do want to hang out with you both more. But this needs to happen.”
“I—I don’t know,” Devin says hesitantly.
“Yes, you do,” Casey replies, and reaches for the handle of the restaurant’s door. “Now. You can insult me and go your separate ways, I guess. It’s a free country, after all. Or, you can go inside. You can enjoy a delicious meal that has already been prepaid for you—champagne too. And you can talk.” She lifts her brows at us as if daring us to refuse. “What’s it gonna be?”
I draw a deep breath and look at Devin again. “I would . . . love to catch up with you,” I tell her quietly. “But only if you feel comfortable doing so.”
Devin bites her bottom lip. It’s one of those unconscious things she’s always done when she’s thinking hard, and it’s the sexiest thing in the world. It’s hard to ignore the surge I feel going through my body at the sight and focus on her words.
“Well, Casey did already take care of everything,” Devin says softly, glancing at me. “I would hate for such a—a thoughtful plan to go to waste.”
Another surge goes through me. This one of hope.
Casey smiles.
I gesture into the restaurant. “After you,” I say to Devin.
“You crazy kids have a great time,” Casey says.
“We’re going to talk about this later, you and me,” I tell her in a low, threatening tone.
“Roger that, sir,” my kid sister says breezily, shoving me through the doorway. She winks at me. “Good luck,” she adds in a whisper.
She shuts the door behind us, waves at us through the glass, and sashays down the sidewalk.
And for the first time in three years, I’m alone with the love of my life.
4
Devin
I don’t know whether to be infuriated at Devin, thrilled at the change in situation, or terrified at the prospect of being alone with Alex for the first time in years. We have a lot to unpack, more than just a single dinner can offer.
And I’m not sure Cristo’s is the best place to do that.
“We’re here,” Alex says lightly at my side as a maître d’ comes to lead us to our table. “We may as well make the best of it, right?”
I nod, not quite trusting myself to speak as we walk through the restaurant to a romantic, rose-petal-laden intimate table for two near a back corner. There’s a good deal of space around our table, and I can’t help but wonder just how far Casey’s arrangements went.
Before the maître d’ can pull out my chair, Alex holds up a hand and steps toward me. “I’ve got it. Thank you.”
“Very good, sir,” the man says with a slight inclination of his head, then turns and disappears.
Alex pulls out my chair, gesturing for me to sit. I step in front of the chair, very aware of his closeness as his body warms my back when he leans in close to push my chair in. Then he takes a seat across from me, unbuttoning his jacket as he does.
For the first time that night, I take a good look at him. I was so surprised to see him outside the restaurant earlier that I didn’t really look at him, but I look now, and dear God. The man is walking perfection. He wears a suave black suit over a crisp white shirt, no tie, the top few buttons undone. There’s a handful of product in his dark hair and his close-cropped beard is shaved a little closer, trimmed a little more neatly.
His dark eyes meet mine across the table, burning with an intensity that immediately envelopes me.
“You look absolutely beautiful,” he murmurs.
My cheeks heat as I glance down. “Thank you.” Truthfully, I’d been a little self-conscious in this dress, the shape following every curve of my body, and the bodice displaying plenty of cleavage with its low dip in the middle, but since it was supposed to be a girls’ night and Casey’s so vivacious and girly, I thought I’d throw caution to the wind and let my hair down—figuratively and literally since there’d be no one to judge me.
How wrong I was.
Alex’s eyes go over my face and dip lower, slowly settling on the cleavage and taking a good look before lifting his gaze again. I resist the urge to fan myself. I’m as deeply in love with him as I ever was, and we do have so much crap to sort through, but dammit, I haven’t been with anyone since him, and my body reminds me of it every day, though not nearly as intensely as right now.
“I like that dress,” he adds. “A lot.” His voice is low and as velvety as the material of the dress he likes so much.