Page 43 of No Headlines Please

She looked so cute, I had to smile. "Don't worry. That's not what I meant."

With an awkward little laugh, she said, "So…no nooners, huh?" But then, her hands flew to her face, and she groaned again. Through her splayed fingers, she murmured, "I should probably just shut up now."

Holy hell. Now I was thinking of a nooner. But there was no way I'd let this happen. She didn't even know my full name, and getting her naked without full disclosure would be a total dick move – even by my standards.

Unfortunately, my body didn't seem particularly interested in logic, and the more time I spent around her, the harder it was becoming to remember this wasn't supposed to be personal.

Still, there absolutely would not be a nooner – no matter what my imagination said.

Meanwhile, Delaney was still hiding behind her hands like she'd just confessed to murder.

Against all reason, I wanted to pull her hands away from her mouth and kiss away her concerns.

Right. Because that would be the perfect way to convince her that a nooner wasn't on the menu.

Finally, I said, "You do realize this is my fault, not yours?"

She dropped her hands. "Your fault? Why?"

"Because I was the one who suggested going upstairs."

"Yeah, but only after I hinted."

"People hint all the time," I said. "That doesn't mean I take them up on it. And you want the truth?"

She nodded.

"You'd be doing me a favor – having coffee upstairs, I mean."

She hesitated. "Why's that?"

Why lie? "Because people have a habit of pissing me off."

This made her laugh. "Really? Why?" She glanced toward my shirt. "I mean…I dumped dirt all over you, and you seemed pretty calm to me."

"Yeah, well…most people aren't you."

Something soft and sweet tugged at her mouth. "Oh, come on. There's nothing special about me."

She was wrong. Somewhere along the line, she'd become the most compelling person I'd met in ages.

Hell, I'd probably been doomed from the moment she'd first smiled.

Once again, I was smiling, too. "That's what you think. Tell ya what. For the next coffee?" I paused to let that sink in. "We'll hit someplace public, and you'll see what I mean."

18

Opposite Land

Delaney

Sitting sixteen floors up on Maddox's incredible balcony, I was still marveling at what he'd said. The next coffee?

It felt like a promise, and I was leaning into it, beyond eager to get to know him better.

Plus, that hint of a promise was exactly what the doctor had ordered to lighten my mood after that shock from Paris and my garbage-grubbing disaster.

Before we'd even headed into the elevator, Maddox had pulled out his cell and asked me what I wanted to drink. And when I'd requested a small vanilla latte, he'd asked if I wanted a pastry to go with it.