A Bravo Homecoming by Christine Rimmer

slanted in on them, bringing out glints of gold in his dark brown hair. “You’ll end up telling her everything, wrecking my brilliant plan to get her to let me find my own damn girlfriends.”
    “I do trust her, but I promise I won’t mess up the plan.”
    He was doing that thing again, holding her gaze. Not letting go. She felt the now-familiar shiver, warm and delicious, as it moved through her body. “Travis?”
    “Hmm?”
    “You’re looking at me that way again.”
    “What way is that?”
    “You know, like you’re going to kiss me.”
    He lifted a hand, brushed the back of his fingers along the side of her neck. Such a simple touch, to feel so good. To make her burn. “Would that be so bad if I kissed you?”
    “No, I don’t think so. Not bad at all…” She sounded breathless. Because she was.
    He stroked her temple, touched her hair. “This…with us?”
    “Yeah?” Definitely. Breathless.
    “I swear I had no clue. I never thought of you this way.”
    She didn’t know what to say to that. She knew he’d never seen her as a woman—not really, not until last night. And it hadn’t bothered her before. She’d accepted that they were friends and nothing more. Somehow, though, it did kind of bother her now. She ached for her old self, for the woman she’d always been, the one no one seemed to see. It hadn’t been all that great being the invisible woman. But she had learned to live that way, become accustomed to it.
    Twin lines formed between his brows. “Okay, that’s a lie.”
    She frowned, too. “What’s a lie?”
    “I did think about maybe asking you out at first.”
    “You did?” She wasn’t sure she believed him.
    “Yeah, but your dad said he’d kill me if I laid a hand on you.”
    Sam swore under her breath. “I never knew—and he’s more talk than action, you have to know that.”
    Travis shook his head. “He loves you. And he thought he was doing right by you. And I like your dad. I wanted him to like me. So I kept my hands off. And you and me, we became friends. I guess I got used to things being that way, to seeing you as a pal and not as a woman.”
    Her throat clutched. If she spoke, she knew her voice would break. So she simply gave him a soft smile and a slow nod.
    “Sam…” The way he said her name told her everything. She read his intent.
    And she read him right. He cradled her face. And he kissed her.
    Their third kiss.
    It was as good—no, better—than the two that had come before it. They stood in the yellow room, sunlight pouring in on them, and they kissed.
    Her mouth knew his now.
    And welcomed it.
    He gathered her close, so tenderly. He cradled her against him. She drank in the taste of his mouth, gloried in the hardness of his body pressing all along hers.
    She knew him. She knew that what had happened with Rachel had damaged him, deep down. And then all the awfulness with Wanda had only made him more certain that love wasn’t for him. He probably wouldn’t be changing his mind about that.
    Not even for her, not even though he trusted her and cared for her and treasured her as a friend.
    If she let this go where it seemed to be going, if she took advantage of that doorway between their two rooms, she would have to go into it with her eyes wide open. She would have to accept that she was one Cinderella who would get to keep the glass slippers, but would most likely have to let her prince go.
    And what about their friendship? Even she, with her limited experience in the male-female arena, knew that bringing sex into a friendship—even a really solid friendship—could blow it all to hell.
    He lifted his mouth from hers, took her shoulders and spoke with tender gruffness. “I could stand here kissing you forever. Or at least, until dinnertime.”
    She put on a teasing grin. “You’re so easy.”
    He touched her cheek. He seemed to really like that—touching her. Which was fine. She liked it, too. He said, “But we should go back