Free On A Night Like This (The Callaways) by Barbara Freethy Page A

Why did you pull away? Why did you say I can't do this ?"
    "You said you didn't want to talk about that night," he reminded her.
    "That was before we started drinking. I told you that you might regret opening that bottle of wine."
    "I should have listened."
    "Did you ever wish we hadn't stopped?" she asked.
    His mouth tightened. "You should go inside, Sara. It's late and we're both a little drunk."
    "Why won't you answer the question?"
    "Because it was a long time ago."
    "That's not the reason. You always want to call the shots, Aiden. I'm an adult now. You don't need to protect me."
    He got to his feet and gave her a short smile. "This time I'm protecting myself."
    He disappeared into the shadows, leaving her to wonder at his meaning. It would be stupid to think he'd run off because he was feeling something for her. She'd made the mistake before; she wouldn't do it again. It was good that Aiden had left. This was not the time to start something … or to finish what they'd started before.
     
    * * *
    Sara woke up Saturday morning with a headache, a reminder that breaking the rules was never a good idea. Flopping on to her back, she stared up at the ceiling. Despite the pain in her temple, she couldn't regret opening the wine and sharing it with Aiden. It had been nice to talk to someone who'd known her since she was young. None of her New York friends knew anything about her childhood or her family. She never talked about her father to them. But Aiden already knew, and he understood. He saw her side, and she'd appreciated that. But she couldn't let herself think of him as anything more than a friend. Despite the mental admonition, she found herself remembering the night they'd moved past friendship.
    She'd been seventeen years old, a senior in high school, and Aiden and his friends were going to a concert in Golden Gate Park. Emma was supposed to go, but she'd gotten distracted by her current crush, and so Sara had gone alone. She'd been so terrified of not fitting in or doing something stupid, that she'd drunk a lot of vodka. At some point in the night, she and Aiden had separated from the others and under the shadows of the trees, they'd started making out.
    She'd wanted to kiss him for at least three years so pushing him away had been the furthest thing from her mind. She was ecstatic that he'd finally noticed her, that he wanted her the way she wanted him. He'd told her she was beautiful, and he'd put his tongue in her mouth and his hands on her breasts and she'd wanted more. She'd wanted to have sex with him right there in the park. It didn't matter that they were outside, that people could see them, that she was a virgin. She wanted to be a woman – a woman with him, and the desire in the eyes of the guy she'd always wanted had taken her past the point of sanity.
    She blew out a breath, shaken by the memories. Putting her hand to her mouth, she realized that while she hadn't consciously thought about that night in a very long time, she'd been comparing that kiss to every other one since then, which was ridiculous. She didn't even know if it was the kiss that had been so good or the alcohol combined with years of a teenage crush. Probably both of those factors had come into play.
    In the end, Aiden's hot kiss had turned to cold rejection. He'd pushed her away, saying he was sorry, but he just couldn't do it.
    She'd been stunned. Aiden didn't say no to anyone. He'd probably had half the girls in school, and he prided himself on being a rule-breaker, a risk taker, a rebel. Obviously, she'd been too dull or too something…
    He'd left her feeling humiliated. She'd been willing to hand herself over on a silver platter, and he'd turned her down.
    Now he was surprised she wasn't grateful to him for saving her from herself?
    Anger ran through her as she recalled his earlier words, but deep down she was as annoyed with herself as she was with Aiden.
    Maybe she should be grateful that she hadn't had sex with him. He hadn't cared