Page 97 of Holding On To Good

What could she do but smile at him in return?

The man had way too much power over her and always had.

Which was why she turned on her heel, prepared to walk away from him, this conversation and his smiles before she dug herself an even bigger hole, when his words once again stopped her.

“Miranda invited me to have dinner with her.”

Of course she did. Miranda had never been shy about going after what she wanted. Even if it was something she didn’t deserve.

Even if it meant taking that something away from someone else.

“You, Miranda, and her husband?” she asked, leaning against the doorframe and crossing her arms. “Sounds cozy. Are they looking for absolution? Going through a twelve-step program for cheaters anonymous?”

He took off his ball cap. Ran his free hand through his hair then replaced his hat, this time putting it on backward, reminding her of how he used to wear it when they’d been younger. “She left Matt.”

Willow jerked upright, her arms falling to her sides. “She left Matt?”

He nodded, unconcerned by this momentous development.

“She left him?” she asked again. “She left him?”

Another nod.

Miranda was single.

She was back in Mount Laurel.

And she’d asked Urban to dinner.

Willow let out a soft, humorless laugh. High school really never did end. “I suggest you look into restaurants in Pittsburgh. Not sure Binge or even the country club are up to Miranda’s standards.”

“I’m not going to dinner with her. I turned her down. I don’t want Miranda.”

She took a tiny step back but he had her so twisted and turned around, she ended up pressed against the doorjamb. “Like I said, it doesn’t matter to me.”

He watched her for a moment. Then he smiled. But this, this wasn’t one of his slow, lopsided grins. This smile wasn’t safe and familiar—it was new and sexy and knowing. It didn’t make her feel warm and fuzzy and safe—it made her skin feel too tight, her blood too warm. Had her muscles tense and ready to flee.

She didn’t. She stood there, corner of the doorjamb digging into her spine, breath caught in her throat, heart racing.

Tossing the clipboard aside, he stepped closer. His voice dropped to a husky, sexy note as he ducked his head and held her gaze. “Liar.”

She bristled so hard, she was surprised the vibration of it didn’t shake the entire second floor.

No one liked to be called a liar.

Even if they were one.

“Excuse me?” she asked in a tone guaranteed to shrink a man’s balls.

But instead of being cowed, or at the very least, sheepish, Urban’s grin turned sly and pleased.

It was a good look on him.

The bastard.

“It matters to you,” he said, soft and simple and certain. “What I do. Who I do it with.”

Amazed at his arrogance and unnerved by his insight, she slowly shook her head. “Careful. Your ego’s showing.”

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