“People who get out of bed with a smile on their face are to be treated with suspicion.”
Putting the cups down, he turns and presses his palm to the countertop behind, muscles and tendons standing to attention as he levels me with a look that’s nothing short of searing. “You’re not telling me you haven’t caught yourself smiling this morning, that your mind hasn’t wandered to last night?”
“That would be telling,” I demur,flovingseeing this side to him. He’s thought about last night and it’s making him smile!
Turning his back to me, he shoves one cup under the coffee machine spout and the other to the top. Cuffing his wrist with his free fingers, he shoves the sleeves of his sweater up his forearm, highlighting toned and tan forearms. “Latte?” he asks over his shoulder.
“Please.” Sliding one of the cups under the spout thingy, he presses a button, and the grinder begins to whir. He heats up the cup, taps something, fits something into the right hole, and all the while, the fine knit of his sweater moves like a second skin, molding to the strong muscles in his back and shoulders. If he was my local barista, I know I’d develop an addiction. “Total coffee shop porn.”
“What was that?” He twists his head over his shoulder.
“Your fancy-looking machine.”
“I’m a bit of a coffee snob thanks to working as a barista when I came back from the States.”
“I bet the place you worked was like Abercrombie and Fitch, but for coffee.”
“What?”
“Nothing.” I smile and shake my head as though he must’ve been hearing things. But as an idea, a business plan, it would totally work. “Was this before you got the job at the bank?”
“My first job was as an analyst at an investment bank. Then I moved into trading derivatives.” Face must reflect my lack of knowledge as he adds, “Derivatives are financial securities and as a trader you buy and sell them on behalf of financial institutions, hedge funds, and the like.”
“Like a stock broker?”
“Yeah.” His finger rasps against the stubble on his jaw. “I had a knack.” He shrugs. “And a lot of luck. I made a lot of money and a lot of connections, and it set me on the path to this.” He flicks out a hand, indicating the multi-million-dollar bachelor pad. “I hit the big time.”
Then he hit the big time. Or rather, worked very hard to get where he is today. Whit comes from a regular family, not from a monied background. Boy done good. Boy donereallygood.
“I suspect your success has a lot more to do with the person you are than a bunch of random luck.” Connor always said Whit was a math whizz and I already know he’s the kind of man who people gravitate to.Women especially.
“It keeps me out of trouble,” he says with the kind of gleam that makes my stomach flip.
“Can I do anything to help?” Before we end up having sex in your stylish kitchen?
“You could move some of the containers over to the table.” He gestures to the fancy boxes and bags from some French sounding patisserie.
That I can do.
“Is this a usual Saturday morning breakfast for you?” I ask as I loop a finger under the delicate ribbon of a couple of pink cake boxes and carry them over to the large dining table where two place settings have already been set. Plates, glasses, and silverware. There’s a half-filled pastry platter, a tropical fruit salad, and a carafe of juice, and that’s just the start of it.
“Is that your way of asking if I regularly have women overnight?” I pretend not to hear that over the noise of the coffee machine. “I’m usually in the office by now.”
That’s not really an answer to my or, rather,hisquestion.His question and now my piqued curiosity.
“You work weekends?” I begin to pull out croissant and containers of berries, tiny cakes that look more like works of art.
“I work whenever I’m not sleeping.”
“You sure you’re not expecting more people?” I ask as I put the contents of the second box on a platter.
“You got me. Because I don’t do this very often, I thought I’d invite all the women I’ve slept with this year over for brunch.”
“Looks like we’re expecting a lot of women,” I say, my eyes sliding over all the goodies. “I hope they’re hungry.” Weird, but I’ve only just taken in that this is food and I’m not really hungry. How is that even possible? I guess my mind is on other things as I lean over the back of a chair to deposit a couple of linen napkins to a table mat. I’m so lost in my own thoughts, I don’t realize Whit’s behind me until his hand brushes curls around my hip as he sets both coffee cups down. My skin reacts like tinder to his touch, wildfire spreading across my skin.
“You’re the first woman I’ve had stay over in a long time.”
“That seems almost a shame.” My answer is barely a whisper, my fingers grasping the back of the chair as his lips brush against my hair. “Maybe gifts like yours ought to be shared.”
