Why Not Tonight. Susan Mallery

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СКАЧАТЬ I’m making progress and I have an idea.”

      “Is this about the app?”

      “No.” She laughed. “The foyer ceiling is two stories with a nice updraft. We should fly paper airplanes.”

      “I haven’t done that since I was a kid.”

      “Did you ever compete?”

      He grinned. “You’ve met my brothers. Do you have to ask?”

      “Did you ever win?”

      “Sure.”

      “You won’t tonight.”

      His gaze turned speculative. “Are you challenging me?”

      “I am so going to kick your butt. Every single time. Even if you get lucky.”

      “You’re on.” He rose. “What’s the wager?”

      As he spoke, she would have sworn that his gaze dropped to her mouth. She felt heat and a sensation that was almost a kiss. Then he returned his attention to her eyes and she wasn’t sure it had happened at all. Real or wishful thinking?

      “You don’t want to bet with me, Ronan,” she said, hoping her voice sounded playful instead of needy.

      “I’m not afraid.”

      “In the words of Yoda, you will be.” She grinned. “How about this? We each do a practice flight, and then if you still want to bet, we will.”

      “Done.”

      He followed her upstairs to the turret. She’d put out paper, scissors and a couple of rulers to flatten the edges. They each sat at the long table and started to work. In a matter of minutes, he’d completed a traditional paper airplane. It took her a few seconds more to complete her gliding plane. The more snub-nosed design was reinforced with additional folds that would withstand the updraft from the furnace vents.

      Ronan looked from her plane to his sleek design. “You think that’s going to win?”

      They walked to the landing. She smiled.

      “In this confined space, winning is about staying aloft longer. Your plane is built for distance. It’s going to soar out perfectly fine and then pretty much plummet. Mine is going to stay up in the clouds for hours.”

      Ronan’s eyes brightened with humor. “You’re a ringer, aren’t you? Instead of hustling for money at a pool table, you use paper airplanes. I’ve been had.”

      She tried not to look smug. “And you were so sure you’d win. Come on, Mr. Bossy Pants. Let’s see what you’ve got under the hood.”

      Ronan turned and sent his plane soaring off the landing. As she’d predicted, it made its way across the foyer with great speed and grace. He threw it hard enough that it actually hit the opposite wall and then tumbled to the floor two stories below.

      “Well, damn,” he muttered. “You were right.”

      “I know. Isn’t it great?”

      She put out her arm and felt for the warm updraft from the air below, then aimed her stubby plane at the ceiling. It took off, looped once, then kept flying as it was slowly, slowly, oh so slowly, taken down by gravity.

      “I want to learn how to do that,” he said the second her plane touched the floor. “What other kinds of planes do you know how to make?”

      They spent the next hour folding paper planes. She showed him a half dozen designs and they practiced with all of them. When the foyer was littered with their efforts, they went downstairs for hot cocoa. While Ronan heated the milk, Natalie pulled a bag of marshmallows out of the pantry.

      “I found these earlier,” she said, waving the bag. “I’m superexcited.”

      “About marshmallows?”

      “Duh. Of course. Aren’t you?”

      He studied her for a second before he smiled. “I am. Now tell me how you learned to fly airplanes so well.”

      She settled on a stool at the island. “There weren’t any girls on the street where I grew up. Just boys. It was fine when I was little, but by the time I was seven, they didn’t want me tagging along. Whenever I convinced them to play with me, it was sports and they always beat me. I got tired of being humiliated. My mom was the one who came up with the idea of paper airplanes. I was already doing origami, so it was an easy transition.”

      She grinned at the memory. “They were woefully unprepared to be beaten by a girl and they didn’t take it well. After about a dozen rematches, they stopped trying to beat me and I was still shut out.”

      “That must have hurt.”

      “It did, but then a couple of girls moved in, so I cared less. Plus anytime the boys tried to tease me, I reminded them they’d been beaten by a girl and they wilted.”

      “You’re scrappy.”

      “I try.”

      He stirred the cocoa into the pan. The smell of chocolate filled the kitchen and her mouth began to water.

      “I’m drinking up your supply,” she said. “I should order you more.” Although she had no idea how much it would cost to buy a tin of cocoa from the former East Berlin. There went her meat budget for the month.

      “I already have.” He poured the mixture into mugs, then handed her one. “It’s nicer when it’s shared.”

      “Thank you.”

      She looked up and saw he was watching her. For a second, their gazes tangled and refused to separate. She found herself leaning toward him, as if... As if...

      He turned away and put down the pan, then passed her the bag of marshmallows. She took two and dropped them into her cocoa all the while telling herself not to be silly. Whatever she was feeling was obviously one-sided. Ronan wouldn’t be interested in her that way. He was worldly and famous and rich. She was just a girl who couldn’t find someone to love her and who tore up bits of paper and called it art. He was the real artist. Speaking of which...

      “How did work go today?” she asked.

      The energy in the room changed immediately. Ronan’s face tightened. She had a feeling that if he hadn’t already been sitting next to her at the island, he would have turned and walked out. She wondered if he still would.

      For more than a minute, there was silence. Natalie told herself to keep quiet, to let him talk, but in the end, she couldn’t help blurting, “Do you know why you’re not working?”

      He looked from his drink to her and back. “I take it you have a theory.”

      “I do. Several, in fact, but the one I like the best is that you can’t work because you’ve closed your heart to your family. You’re like Elsa in the movie Frozen. You have to believe in love again.”

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