Page 24 of Kyle

He realized then that he knew next to nothing about her. "I never asked if you were involved with anyone."

She smiled to lighten the mood. Things were getting too intense. And she had to remember where they stand. "No. So, it was easy for me to give in gracefully."

A slight smile touched his lips. "Oh, is that what you did?"

"Absolutely. How about a glass of wine? The tea has gotten cold."

"Thanks."

Chapter 7

They would have time to think on it later. The fact that they spent close to two hours in that fabulous kitchen, drinking wine and raiding the fridge. And talking. They discovered things about each other.

"You're a geek." Ingrid was on her third glass of wine and there was a warm fuzzy feeling inside her. "Who would have thought it? You read the classics."

"So?" He tried to sound defensive, but he was also on his third glass, and it came out sounding mild. "I also like the theater."

"What have you seen?" she asked curiously.

"The question is what haven't I seen?" he mused. "I once went to a reproduction of 'As you like it' in New York." He smiled at the memory. "I was twenty and just starting college. The friend was someone I grew up with and wanted to do theater. It was a complete disaster. The lighting was shoddy and even though the acting wasn't bad, the characters kept missing cues and forgetting the lines."

"You sounded like you had fun."

"I did." He laughed and Ingrid felt the clutch in her stomach. His smile was white against the golden tan of his skin. He was relaxed and had let down his guard. God, he was beautiful, she thought.

"Where is the friend now?"

"On Broadway. His name is Maxwell Courts."

Her eyes widened as she stared at him.

"No way! The guy is a fricking genius."

"Don't let him hear that. He has an ego the size of Texas."

"He should." She sipped more wine. "He rocks. I saw him in a reproduction of 'Baby', and I actually cried. I don't cry, really. But I did and it pissed me off." She laughed when he did. "The show was that good."

"I saw it several times."

"And you cried. Admit it."

His thick brows lifted arrogantly.

"A man does not show that kind of wimpy emotion."

"That's bull."

"I did cry a little. Not enough for my date to notice."

"That's more like it." She looked down at her empty glass in surprise and then at the time. "God! It's almost midnight."

They both felt reality crashing over them, the magic evaporating.

"I suppose we should try and get some sleep," he murmured.

"I suppose."

They both did not acknowledge they were both reluctant to leave the comfort of the kitchen and their conversation.