What was romantic was the simple desk light reflecting in her eyes.
“Each panel is a square with a smooth, unique grain that allows for a hundred different designs and applications. See.” Her arm brushed his when she pointed to the drawing. “By rotating the panels it provides a custom look without sacrificing the diffusion quality. And if we alternate the tiles and complement them with some sleek lined furniture, comfortable of course—”
“Of course.”
“—then it will feel more like an extension of the home rather than a dungy basement or padded cell.”
“Dungy?” He couldn’t help but smile—or notice that she’d swayed even closer.
“Like a dungeon. I used to joke with Axel that he was going down into the catacombs where bad songs go to die.”
He laughed. While Axel was a world-class drummer, he wasn’t the best songwriter. He was more of a “follow your lead” kind of musician. There was nothing wrong with that. Rhett and Axel were very different musicians and, now that he thought back to what his brothers said, very different men.
Axel loved the life whereas Rhett loved the music. And that’s what he’d come home to get back to. The music.
Only right then all he could focus on was how amazing she smelled—like a dirty martini and sex rolled into one. Then there was the way she was looking at him, as if his opinion was all that mattered in her world. The problem was the way he was looking at her, as if tasting her was the one thing that mattered in his world.
“Rhett?” she whispered, her gaze dropping.
“Yeah,” he whispered back, noting that she’d placed her hand on his bicep.
“I think… ” Her voice faded.
He turned until they were facing each other, a scant inch apart. “You think, what?”That this kiss is going to blow the roof off. Funny, I was thinking the same thing.
“I think tonight was a bad idea.” Then she puked all over his shoes.
Chapter Four
Dating Tips from Elsie Dodd
Make sure your walk of shame is from your
television to the fridge.
Elsie was naked.
All that separated her from utter humiliation was a set of sheets and a lace thong. She could hear a distant strumming thumping through her head. But the thumping was coming from beside her. Loud and rhythmic, and making her head feel as if it were about to burst like a grape.
She could feel the weight of a body beside her. She cracked an eye open to see a blurry, very male form—in her bed. Her heart leapt to life, and into her throat, while the rest of her went stock still beneath the soft cotton sheets.
She wasn’t alone. This much she knew. Just like she knew who her unexpected and unwanted bedmate was. Her nipples recognized his scent. And her heart recognized his music. It wasn’t a song she was familiar with, but the practiced strumming could only belong to one person.
Why,oh why,if she had to have a drunken one-night stand couldn’t it have been with the bartender? Or anyone buthim.
Maybe if she feigned sleep he’d get up and leave the room and they’d never have to talk about this.
Ever.
The strumming stopped and someone moved—closer. Elsie could feel the heat of his body tickle the back of her neck and goose bumps broke out over every inch of her flesh—even the inappropriate inches. Little traitors.
A sad side effect, she was sure, of acute sex deprivation.
Going completely still, roadkill style, she silently took stock. Okay, so she wasn’t naked, just practically naked, and lying next to, she feared, her ex’s best bro. She couldn’t besuresure, since she was still drunk.
She stealthily slid one leg out from under the covers and touched her toe to the floor to keep the earth from spinning. Not that it helped, her mind was spinning with possibilities when every detail from last night came rushing back.
There was fun and laughter and vodka, lots of vodka. And Marcus, the sexy bartender who was checking out her cleavage, which to be honest wasn’t his fault since it was on full display. Then there was Rhett, the thoughtful and gentle Rhett from days past, who had once sweet-talked her out of her panties.
