Page 71 of The Scent of Happiness

“What do you love?” Brooke asked. She waited for an answer while his heart pounded a forbidden rhythm.

He lifted her hand and kissed her palm. He met his own eyes in the mirror, saw the truth reflected there, and quickly kissed his way up her arm so he wouldn’t have to face her.

“I love your lips,” he said. “I love your hair. I love your body. I love the way you move it.”

Every part of her seemed fired up as she returned his kisses. She reached under his towel. “Well, I love the way you touch me. And I love touching you.”

“I love the way you moan when you come,” he said. He was rock hard, her hands were on him, and he was going to combust if he didn’t have her soon.

“You liked that, huh?” she asked. “Because you could hear me moan again, if you want.”

“I want that,” he said. “You can feel how I want it.”

“Good, because we’re just getting started.” She pointed to the door. “Go out that door…”

“Yes?”

“And then go in my bedroom door,” she said. She was doing very interesting things under his towel.

“Uh huh?”

“And I’ll be right behind you.”

Theo opened the bathroom door. He didn’t know exactly what Brooke had in mind, but he knew he’d like the result. The warmth in his heart and the heat in his groin had merged to make him dizzy with happiness.

He rushed out the bathroom door, pivoted through the living room, and froze in place, blinking stupidly at Sharon Nesbitt, who had just come through the kitchen.

Brooke’s mom stood with her hands on her hips, her mouth twisted in an anxious frown, which soon turned to wide-eyed horror at the sight of her daughter’s attorney parading through her apartment in nothing but a towel.

Chapter Twenty-Two

The first thing Brooke heard was Theo swearing. The second thing was the slam of the bedroom door. The third thing was her mother’s voice coming from the kitchen. “Brooke? Are you in there?”

Oh no. No. She’d locked the door, hadn’t she? Mom had a key, but they both understood it was only to be used in an emergency. What could possibly have brought her mother here now?

Brooke dropped her towel and threw on her bathrobe. She yanked opened the bathroom door. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Mom rose up on her toes. “Me? What are you doing? Because if I just saw what I think I—”

“Did you knock?” This couldn’t be happening. No, this was not happening. Her mother was not standing in the kitchen with that look of horror. Brooke wanted to bolt from the room, but her feet didn’t move.

“Of course I knocked,” Mom said. “And texted. And called. The shower was running forever, Brooke. You never do that. For all I knew you’d fallen down and cracked open your skull.”

“You can’t barge in here whenever you—”

“We had no hot water.”

“I’m sorry, Sharon.” Theo emerged from the bedroom fully dressed, including his shoes. He zipped his jacket over his gray t-shirt. “That was my fault.”

Brooke put a hand on his chest and pushed him back into the bedroom. “Please, let me handle this.”

“But as your attorney, I can—”

“Not helpful.” Brooke closed the door and held the knob.

She faced her mother in silence, her cheeks burning while her feet and hands felt like ice. She knew what she looked like—tousled hair, flushed cheeks, no glasses. She knew what this looked like. It looked like she’d been well satisfied by an extremely talented lover practically under her parents’ roof.

She clutched her robe together at the neck, gathering her thoughts. This was her apartment. Mom had let herself in. Brooke had nothing to be ashamed of. Nobody wanted to be caught in the act by her mother, but couldn’t a girl take a shower in her own apartment in peace?