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She took several deep breaths, reminding herself that even if someone had seen them, no one would have connected her with “Aggie.” She’d created that persona for exactly this reason. For protection. An extra layer of defense, to add to the other layers.
And that was the scariest thing of all. Since she’d arrived in New York, no one had breached a single layer of her defenses. No one.
Until Daniel.
“Come home with me.” He framed her face in his hands and spoke the words against her mouth. “We’ll get out of these wet things and take a shower together. You know it’s going to be good.”
Yes, she knew. Which was why she was backing away. Fire like that inevitably ended up with someone being burned.
How had this gone from fun flirtation in the park to something so real? But she knew the answer to that. The moment he’d started kissing her, she’d forgotten everything. Even now, she was tempted to ignore the sensible voice in her head and go with him.
“No.” She pulled away from him so suddenly he had to plant his hand against the tree to steady himself.
She empathized. From the moment he’d kissed her she’d lost faith in the ability of her knees to support her. If Valentine had been a few inches taller she would have climbed on his back and ridden him home.
She bent and grabbed his collar, clipping on the lead quickly.
“Molly, wait.” Daniel’s voice was thickened; he sounded almost drugged, as if he’d indulged in a serious binge on an illegal substance.
She knew the feeling. Only in her case he was the illegal substance.
She really liked him, and with that extra connection came the risk of heartbreak. She wasn’t going near that again.
Eight
Daniel glanced across the office to check his door was closed, then opened his laptop and typed in Ask a Girl.
Maybe Aggie would have some advice on how to handle a woman who sprinted away from something good. The kiss had blown his mind and he was pretty sure it had blown Molly’s, too. She was sexy, smart and unattached. He’d told her things he hardly ever discussed with anyone, and certainly not someone he barely knew. He still didn’t understand why he’d done that, except that there was something about his connection with Molly that had accelerated the pace of their relationship. And he was sure she felt the same way, which was why he couldn’t think of a single logical reason why she wouldn’t want to take it to the next level.
He scrolled through the site, reading some of the questions. Not that he would ever have admitted it, but her site had a strangely addictive quality.
Daniel only ever saw relationships at the point where they’d broken down. He’d never given much thought to the rocky path that brought people to his office. Was this how it started, he wondered, with a simple question? A simple misunderstanding? One crack that, if left unattended, widened into canyons too big to breach.
He’d never imagined so many men would be prepared to write to a woman asking for advice. That, he supposed, was the power of the internet. You were anonymous. Or at least you thought you were. And Aggie had an opinion on all of it. What to say. What to think. What to feel.
Dear Aggie, my girlfriend leads such a full life I sometimes wonder if she even needs me. How can I persuade her to prioritize me over her book group or her quilting group? Yours, Insignificant.
&nb
sp; Daniel raised his eyebrows. If a guy struggled to be more interesting than a book or a square of fabric, he was in trouble, surely?
Then he thought of Molly with her salsa dancing, spin class and cooking class, and felt a flicker of sympathy.
Maybe it wasn’t as easy as he thought.
Intrigued, he read Aggie’s answer.
Dear Insignificant, instead of asking your girlfriend to choose you over her favorite activities, why not join her? Sharing a hobby can be an intimate and emotionally bonding experience. While it’s always healthy to maintain separate interests, it’s also good to share things. It can deepen the understanding between you and lead to a more fulfilling relationship.
She expected the guy to take up quilting? The woman was deluded.
Daniel stared at the screen, thinking of Molly’s interests. He didn’t really want to take a cooking class and he’d never seen the point of a spin class, so all that was left was salsa dancing. But the only type of salsa he knew anything about was the sort that was served with nachos, and there was no way he was shimmying around on a dance floor in Lycra and sequins, however attractive he found Molly. He’d rather walk a poodle in the park.
Why couldn’t she love baseball or poker? Or even jazz? He’d be happy enough to join her for any of those activities. Art? Theater? He’d be there like a shot. But spin class? Paying money to ride a bike going nowhere seemed like a crazy idea to him.
There had to be a better way.
How low had he sunk that he was considering writing to an advice columnist who probably knew less about relationships than he did?
