There was something about Vanessa that made him wonder what it might be like to spend more time with her. Of course, he wouldn’t act on it, but he could think about it, couldn’t he? He should have steam-rolled that thought the second it landed in his brain, but he didn’t and that was a big mistake. Huge. Monumental. A few dances with Vanessa, another scotch, more laughter, and his objections to an attraction and the reasons to avoid one began to crumble. He’d caught her staring at him, eyes bright, lips curved into a smile, face flushed.
Why had his addled brain not registered the look that said “interested”? Sure, he’d had a few scotches and it was late, but Ethan didn’t need to function at full capacity to recognize a warning signal. He liked to be the one doing the choosing so there was no confusion about what getting together meant or didn’t mean—as in, no relationships. But the look Vanessa had given him as he gathered her coat and waited for the shuttle to take them back to the bed-and-breakfast, said she wasn’t thinking about tomorrow or the next day.
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