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“I had to go to work,” she says, but that’s just what it sounds like—an excuse.
“I’m glad you’re here,” I say to her. “Because we need to set some ground rules if this is to work.”
“Why do you care?” she asks. “I imagine your money is already on its way to your bank account.”
She’s not wrong. “Because I always keep my end of the deal.”
A vulnerable, almost sad expression comes into her emerald green eyes, and my chest squeezes. Protective feelings come over me.
“That’s good to know,” she says, her voice shaky.
“What’s wrong?” I ask her, deeply disturbed by the sudden change in her.
She plasters a smile on her face. A smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “There’s nothing wrong.” She’s lying. “So, what ground rules do you want to talk about?”
One of the servers brings Marian’s pizza and water. Marian smiles and thanks to her. “I can’t wait to dig into this. I missed lunch.”
“Is that something you do a lot?” I ask her.
Despite being curvy, she’s a bit on the slim side, but from my research, Lilly Love Wedding Planner is one of the biggest outfits in LA, and I reckon she’s very busy. Still, she needs to eat some more.
“I do, and I keep promising myself not to do that,” she says as she opens the box and makes appreciative noises. “I love the smell of freshly baked pizza.”
I watch as she opens her gorgeous mouth and takes the first bite. She closes her eyes, and as she chews, I wonder how it would feel to have her lips wrapped around my cock.
“That’s the most delicious pizza I’ve ever tasted, and I’m not just saying that because … well because you’re my husband.”
I chuckle. “I know. We make the best pizzas.”
“Humble not,” she says.
“It’s a fact, not a boast,” I tell her and reach across and swipe my thumb across her lower lip.
“What?”
“A bit of sauce,” I tell her, fighting the urge to touch her soft lips again.
“You were saying something about ground rules,” Marian says, and it takes a moment to remember what it was that I wanted to say.
It doesn’t seem important now, but I wrack my brain for it anyway. “Yes, I was. Respect. We have to respect each other, and that means communicating.”
“Okay,” she says. “Maybe we can start by exchanging numbers?”
We both laugh, and the earlier tension is broken.
“It’s very busy here,” Marian says, and for the next few minutes, we talk business. “Have you figured out the new location?”
“Ace told me about this bakery that’s shutting down on Second Street. He said he’d research it and get back to me. I’ve also put the word out to real estate agents. I’m sure something will come up.”
“That’s awesome and so exciting,” she says.
“So, do you want to see my place? We can even pass by Park and Rachael’s office. I’d like you to meet them.” I feel like a teenager rather than a grown-ass man.
“Who are Parker and Rachael?” Marian asks, an amused look on her face.
“My best friends. They’re more like family. We all grew up together here in Santa Monica.”
“Do your parents live here?” she says.
I answer and promptly change the topic. I don’t want to have to explain why it’s not a good idea to meet them just yet. I tell Marian about Park and Rachael and their little girl Kacy, another sweetheart who is just about Luna’s age.
“Looks like you’re the only one who hasn’t procreated yet,” Marian quips.
Not for long. I arrest the words before they leave my mouth. I don’t want to think about that particular condition. It’s something we’ll have to revisit.
“Ready?” I ask her.
“You sure it’s okay for you to leave? I don’t want to mess up your workday.”
If only she knew. The moment I clapped my eyes on her, my day was messed up. I have an ulterior motive for wanting to show her where I live. I need to have her somewhere alone. Somewhere I can kiss her and maybe try and work on making that baby.
“It’s fine,” I assure her. I wave at the guys at the counter so they know that I’ve left.
I glance down at Marian’s shoes and nod in approval. She was wise enough to wear walking shoes. I also like that her skirt is short enough to have my fill of admiring her long shapely legs.
We walk to the marina, and I point out Serenity, Ace’s boat, to her.
“Do you sail too?” she asks me.
“Yes, it was a thing we did as a family for years. What about you?”
“Sail? Nope, I’d love too though,” she says and then goes on the defensive. “I don’t mean that you should take me.”
“Marian, I’d love to take you sailing one day. Put that down on our to-do list,” I say.
She giggles. “I love to-do lists.”
