Darksider: Reveler Series 3 Read Online Free Page B

eyes, she chuckled. “Okay, tonight. In the meantime, eat. Tell me about your life.”
    The man talked—he’d always had a way of making friends and putting people at ease. He did a four-star job helping her procrastinate the moment she’d have to close her eyes and let him into her dreams. After all but licking his plate clean, he offered to do the dishes, which involved using an end of bread to sop up the rest of her sauce from the pan, then frowning like a little boy when it was all gone.
    It was like old times, but not really. He was as familiar as her own self, but he was also a total stranger.
    He told her how his ma was on his case to settle down and had started taking matters into her own hands. She’d also started an online jewelry business that was doing well. Pop had retired and was miserable with excess energy. His sister Jessica, in addition to the ten-year-old, now had twins, and he even expanded a bit about the kids’ antics. His brother Jake had opened his own medical practice. Absent was any mention of a woman in his life, so his mother had yet to be successful on that front.
    He didn’t talk about his work, but then he probably had some kind of security clearance stopping him. Way back when the Army had offered him a package deal, he hadn’t been able to discuss the details, either. That was one reason they’d broken up: she couldn’t tolerate secrets.
    They moved to the sofa when he asked about her rise in the culinary world. It wasn’t bragging with him, and there were some moments, delicious moments of success that she could tell only a rare few, and even after all this time, he was one of them.
    Like when she was asked over Drake, this cocky bastard with whom she’d been competing, to run the Blue Grille kitchen, her first big break. Of course, she’d been graceful accepting and had gone out of her way to be friendly to him—burn no bridges, small world, etc.—but inside she’d been whooping and jigging.
    And then there was the day her parents had come to surprise her when Marina de Sel opened, flying in from Florida without her even knowing, then asking to speak to the chef. She teared up when she told Harlen, but really, it had been a moment for bawling. Which is exactly what she’d done that night in the dining room of the restaurant.
    “I’m happy for you, Sera.” His voice had deepened over the evening. “You’ve worked hard. You deserve everything you’ve achieved.”
    She waved the memory away, trying not to look too long into his steady eyes. He smelled good, too, and she had a discerning nose. He gave off the perfect combo of male body and warmed soap, underscored by leather. The man was the whole package, and damn if he didn’t know it.
    He was waiting for her to come around. The Harlen Fawkes from college hadn’t had that much patience, not one for much foreplay. It wasn’t like she was a virgin at this; she’d shared dreams with him before.
    “I’m nervous,” she finally admitted.
    The outer corners of his eyes wrinkled. “I got that.”
    He leaned forward, lifted a brow. “I should fess up and let you know that there might be a residual impression of you in my dreams. I’m attracted—no helping that. And you’ll remember that it’s near impossible to hide strong emotion in the waters. But I want you to know that I won’t try anything.”
    This was why she’d held out calling him. He made her feel beautiful. He made all the girls feel beautiful. But attracted was better than the alternative. “What if there’s a residual you in mine?”
    He shook his head. “Good or bad, I won’t act on it, no matter how much I might want to. I’m concerned about this predator.”
    Good or bad. Yeah, there was room for both.
    “So I just go to sleep?”
    “And I’ll join you there,” he answered. No flirting, just calm assurance.
    A cold trickle of helplessness dripped into her belly. She hated feeling this way. She was not a helpless person.
    “It’s my job,”