Just a Taste (SAMPLE)

Chapter Two

- THEN -

Five years ago

I wiped my hands on a dish towel, and hurried to the front door as the doorbell rang. Ducking quickly into the bathroom on my way, I glanced at the mirror.

My lip-gloss was still in place, my hair smooth, and the mascara I'd coated on my eyelashes emphasized my green eyes. Not that he would even notice. Or care. I was an excited ball of energy, and had been for hours now – ever since Dad had mentioned that we'd have an extra guest for dinner.

Exiting the bathroom, I opened the front door, feeling a little breathless. And there he stood in all his glory.

Kellan Reed.

I hadn't seen him since I was twelve. Nana had passed, and Dad had finally been able to put some money towards hiring someone to take care of me after school. To say that I'd been devastated would have been an understatement. I'd become accustomed to seeing Kellan every week.

My ballet classes had never resumed, so I'd spent a lot of days waiting outside of Dad's classroom after school. I'd always kept an eye out for Kellan – who was in detention more often than not. I'd see him most days as he was leaving the building. Sometimes he'd stop and talk to me, and it would make my entire day.

I'd always seemed to amuse him – like a little puppy doing tricks. Me? I'd looked at him with stars in my eyes.

Two years had passed, and I'd all but forgotten about Kellan. I'd certainly never expected to see him again. Dad had quit his job at the school several months ago, and Kellan had graduated. Then Dad had run into Kellan randomly at the local park today, and had ended up inviting him to dinner.

I'd thought that my little crush had long since faded, so I was surprised by the nervous excitement that had filled me at hearing Dad's news.

The flutter in my stomach, as I saw him for the first time in years, was also unexpected. He was hotter than I remembered. Older. Taller. His shoulders broader. He'd filled out in the years since I'd seen him last, and it suited him well.

His eyebrow piercing was gone, but his eyes were still that piercing grey. The dimple in his left check was something I'd never appreciated before, but it was sexy as hell now.

"Wow, ballerina. You've sure grown up," he said, his eyes wide as he took me in. He wasn't checking me out – unfortunately – it was just a quick, disbelieving glance that expressed his surprise. Not at all admiring, or even appreciative. Damn.

But really what had I expected? He was... what? Eighteen? I was fourteen years old. Just a kid to him.

"Well, it has been a few years," I said, feeling oddly bashful. I stepped aside to let him in, trying to dispel the small burst of pleasure that had gone through me when I heard the old nickname. Ballerina. He'd remembered. "You look..." I trailed off, not really knowing what to say. Hot?

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking a little self-conscious. "A little rough around the edges? Haven't exactly been staying at the Hilton these past few months. It's taken a toll."

"I was going to say that you look good, actually," I told him, wondering where he'd been staying. Now that I took a closer look, I could see that his clothes looked a little worn, and that there were deep circles under his eyes. He was still hot, just a little tired looking. If he'd been twenty years older, Mom would have said he was ruggedly handsome.

He looked ridiculously uncomfortable right now as he stood in our hallway, glancing around the house. I imagined that this probably wasn't his scene. He had bad boy written all over him, which made me wonder why he'd even accepted Dad's invite.