He was silent a moment.

“Marco?”

“Friends,” he finally answered. “But with the hope of becoming more.”

The butterflies were back in my belly. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no.”

“Fine. Friends will do for now.”

“Marco —”

“You can’t take it back. We’re friends. We’re officially spending time together.”

I sighed, willing the crazy fluttering inside me to die down. “How does next weekend sound?”

He hesitated. “I can’t do next weekend, I’m sorry. How about this Tuesday, after work, for drinks? I swapped shifts with a colleague. He’s doing my Wednesday shift if I do tomorrow for him.”

“That’s good for you. You can have a drink and not have to worry about work the next day. However, a weeknight doesn’t really work for me.”

“Oh, come on, it’s not like you’re surrounded by heavy machinery. We’ll have one drink. Or are you too old to go out on a weeknight?” he teased.

I grimaced. “You’re such a child. Fine, Tuesday night. One drink.”

Walking into the bar on George Street on Tuesday evening, I almost tripped over my own feet at the expression on Marco’s face when he saw me.

He stood up from the small booth he was sitting at, his eyes moving from my face, slowly down my body and back up again. The funny thing was there was nothing much to see except for my legs ending in a pair of fur-trimmed ankle boots. I was wearing my favorite green military-style winter coat with fur-trim cuffs. It fitted my body well, but it wasn’t exactly sexy.

Marco’s gaze made me feel sexy.

Damn him.

When I reached him he surprised me by bending slightly to press a kiss to my cheek. My cheek was rosy and cold from the freezing wind outside, but as soon as his lips touched my skin a blaze of heat radiated out from the spot. I must have looked befuddled because he seemed amused and pleased with himself.

Self-consciously I shrugged out of my coat, glad I was wearing a conservative navy wool dress underneath. However, I might as well have been wearing a nightdress for how hot I felt in close quarters with him.

Sliding into the booth beside him, my whole body hyper-aware of his, I knew I had to at least be honest with myself: I had never stopped being attracted to Marco and I’d once been in love with him. Despite the complicated past between us, despite the truths I was withholding, I knew that I could never just be friends with him on the inside, even if I could pretend it on the outside.

Our arms brushed and sparks shot through me like I’d touched a live wire. I couldn’t stamp out that feeling of excitement. That feeling was utterly addictive. From the age of fourteen until the age of seventeen, I’d had that feeling inside me whenever I was around Marco.

I’d missed it.

“How are you?” I gave him a small, hopefully platonic smile.

“I’m good.” His gaze was intense on me, his eyes deliberately trying to hook mine.

For the first time ever with him, I felt shy. I glanced away quickly, searching the bar.

“Can I get you a drink?” he asked.

“Sure. I’ll have a glass of rosé, please.”

As soon as he slid out of the booth my breathing steadied.

You are being such an idiot, I berated myself. This was Marco. So what if he was hot? When I was younger, I’d still been able to carry on a conversation with him!

Pull it together, Nichols.

My eyes followed him as he strode up to the quiet bar, powerful, graceful. He wore a dark blue knit sweater with a shawl collar and a pair of dark blue jeans. He was effortlessly stylish and comfortable with himself in a way he hadn’t been when we were at school.

Momentarily sidetracked from my study of him, I picked up on the lust aimed at Marco emanating from the other end of the bar. Two women sat on barstools, speaking quietly to each other as they watched him with hungry eyes and come-hither smiles.

Marco wasn’t even paying attention.

I relaxed somewhat at his utter lack of interest, jealousy slowly seeping out of me.

Yup. Definitely not just friends.

Damn him.

“So,” he said as he slipped back into the booth beside me, putting my wineglass gently down in front of me as he lightly gripped his pint of lager, “How was work?”

Small talk. Yes, I could do small talk.

I opened my mouth to speak but was immediately distracted by the arm he slid along the back of the booth we were sitting in. I felt surrounded.

What the hell did he just ask?

Work! Right, work. “Good.” I took a quick sip of my wine, hoping the alcohol would help me relax a little. “It’s busy and stressful, but I love teaching.”

“And you were always good at it.”

Not wanting to take another trip down memory lane so soon after our last one, I shrugged and then smiled coaxingly into his handsome face. “You seem to be doing well. Adam speaks highly of you. Says you’ll be a site manager one day.”

“That’s the goal. You work hard, you learn, you get there.”

I smiled softly. “You say you’ve changed, but you had that attitude when we were kids. You took those classes when you didn’t need to. You were always challenging yourself to be better.” Except when it came to me.

“Not always,” he replied pointedly, as if he’d just read my mind. “In that way I’ve changed. I go after what I want now, no matter what.”

I looked away before we ventured into dangerous territory. “How’s your aunt Gabby?”

“She’s good. Real good. Gio eased up on me a lot over the last few years and I know it’s mostly because of Gabby. I’m pretty close to her. It’s nice having family over here.”