Page 31 of Troy Story
But the best part about dinner was spending time alone with Dusty. She looked radiant in the flickering candlelight, her face flushed from their day in the sun, a fresh crop of freckles scattered across her nose. She’d swapped out her bikini and cover-up for a pale blue sundress that set off her tan. Even clad in her filthiest dig clothes, she was hard to resist. But dressed like this? Unbelievably tempting.
Her infectious smile and attentiveness suggested this was more to her than a dinner between friends. But so far, they’d kept the conversation light, talking about the dig and its quirky crew members. Though Stuart was hoping they’d reach a deeper level of intimacy, he enjoyed having time to build up to it.
Until Dusty refilled her wineglass, took a sip, and nailed him with a flinty glare. “So…honest answer. Why were you asking me about Kerim earlier?”
Caught off guard, he swallowed abruptly, almost choking on a piece of pita bread. As he cleared his throat, he struggled to explain, only to come up with a pathetic apology. “Sorry. It wasn’t any of my business.”
Her furrowed brow implied she wasn’t letting him off that easily. “We’ve been friends for too long to bullshit each other. You’ve never gotten judgy about my partners before. But today, you sounded accusatory. Why?”
Because I was jealous.But he couldn’t admit it until he knew whether she planned to hook up with Kerim. Otherwise, he’d be setting himself up for a mega dose of humiliation. “I…I guess I was surprised. You talked about the Bodrum project a lot when you got back but never mentioned him.”
“Would you care if we’d been together?”
Rattled by her answer, he blurted out the first thing he could think of. “He’s at least ten years older than you. I wouldn’t want you getting hurt.”
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he wanted to take them back. He was now fulfilling the exact role Clarissa had cast him in—that of Dusty’s protective older brother. A role he didn’t want.
And one she didn’t appreciate, from the scowl she gave him. “He’s twelve years older, to be exact. That’s hardly an issue. My dad’s fourteen years older than my mom.”
“Didn’t their affair cause a huge scandal?”
“Only because she was his grad student at Harvard. Plus, she was supposed to be marrying some rich British aristocrat. But I’m not one of Kerim’s students. No one would care if we got involved. Except maybe you, now that you’re acting like my big brother.”
Her accusation sent his pulse racing. “I don’t know why you’re so surprised. You’re the one who told Clarissa you think of me that way.”
“What?” Her mouth gaped open, but before she could respond, their server came by to ask if they needed anything. She answered with a quick “no, thanks,” then focused on Stuart again. “All I told her was that we grew up together like a brother and sister. I didn’t imply I felt that waynow.”
His frustration boiled over, eclipsing all rational thought. “Yet, somehow, that was what she inferred.”
Her hazel eyes flashed with anger. “Who cares what she thinks? What matters is howyoufeel about me. Do you think of me as a sister?”
How had this conversation gone so badly off the rails? He had to stop dancing around the subject and answer truthfully, no matter what it cost him. If he went all out and confessed his love for her, he might spook her, but at least he could admit how much he wanted her.
He topped up his wineglass and took a long drink. “No. I don’t think of you that way. Because it would be totally messed up to have erotic fantasies about your little sister.”
The silence that followed was sudden and shocking. Like he’d thrown a hand grenade onto the table and was waiting for the explosion. Around them, the world carried on like normal. Servers bustled about, glasses clinked, and laughter carried over from the other tables. But nothing would ever be normal again, now that he’d told his best friend how he felt about her.
She drained her wine in one quick swallow. “Did you just admit you had dreams about banging me?”
He rubbed his hands across his face.Shit.He’d blown it, big-time. “Yes. I’m sorry if that was horribly inappropriate.”
“Why the fuck didn’t you lead with that? Why ask me all these questions about Kerim?”
So, she wasn’t mad about the fantasies? Or was she? His head was spinning in confusion. “Because I…wasn’t about to confess my feelings if you and he were…” He made a sweeping motion, too flustered to continue talking.
“If we were fucking? Is that what you’re trying to say?”
“Yes, but in a less blunt way.”
A hint of a smile played at her lips. “We’re not. We weren’t together in Bodrum, and I had no intention of jumping into bed with him tonight. Or any night, for that matter.”
The tension eased from his shoulders. He set down his wineglass, suddenly aware he’d been clutching it in a death grip. “Then why did you tell me he asked you to dinner?”
“I wanted to make you jealous.” All traces of anger vanished from her face. “You think you’re the only one harboring erotic fantasies about your best friend? Think again. I’ve been dreaming about you for years.”
He stared at her, unable to form a coherent sentence. A mixture of shock and delight coursed through him as her words registered. He didn’t care that she’d been flirting with Kerim to get a rise out of him. Or that her confession—like his—was more about their physical desires than their emotional connection.
What mattered was that they werefinallyon the same page.
