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I survey my outfit options as I sip the hot coffee, settling on a burgundy tunic and dark gray leggings.
I turn back, unsurprised to see him unapologetically looking at my ass.
“What time do you have to leave for brunch?” he asks, his voice so hopeful, his motives so purely guy, that I laugh.
“Too soon to make time for what you have in mind,” I say, setting my coffee on the dresser and stepping into the leggings. “Besides, I’m a tiny bit sore.”
“Sorry about that.”
I snort and pull the top over my head. “See, your words say sorry, but your tone is just the tiniest bit self-satisfied.”
He takes a sip of coffee. “I can neither confirm nor deny.”
I reach out and pick up a gold hoop earring from the dresser. “Is this what it’s going to be like da—sleeping with a lawyer?”
I hope he doesn’t know I almost used the word dating. Baby steps with this one.
But he’s more evolved than I think, cupping his big hands around the mug and leaning his forearms on his knees as he watches me continue the primping routine. “Sleeping with. That’s what this is?”
“Well, unless you prefer the Page Six version that we’re involved,” I say with an easy smile, trying not to hold my breath.
“It is considerate of them to shortcut this whole thing for us, let us know where we stand.”
I watch him for a second, trying to figure out just how sarcastic he’s being right now. I can’t tell.
&nbs
p; My tongue touches the center of my top lip as I consider the wisdom of what I’m about to do.
Ah, what the hell. I go for it.
“You should come to brunch.”
Andrew slowly straightens. “With your parents?”
The look on his face is so comically horrified that I can’t help laughing. I hold up my hands. “Okay. That reaction right there was my worst-case scenario, but at least I know where we stand. Too soon. Way too soon.”
He scratches his cheek and avoids my gaze. “It’s just…”
“Andrew.” I wait until he meets my eyes, then walk to him, cupping his face in my hands, liking the way his eyes go warm at my touch. “Don’t freak out on me, ’kay? I meant it in a no-pressure way. There are mimosas to be consumed and Wall Street Journals to be read, and I’m pretty sure that’s your jam, but it’s also a meet-the-parents scenario, and I could see how that might not be your jam, and I’m totally fine with that. We’re good?”
He nods slowly, but his expression is still troubled. My fault. Rookie move, dropping brunch and parents a mere twelve hours after hooking up with a guy. At least I try to tell myself that’s all it is—that I’m moving too quickly. I don’t want to consider the other possibility: that despite our bodies being made for each other, out of bed we don’t know how to fit into each other’s lives.
“I’ve got to put on my face and be out the door in twenty,” I say, gesturing toward the bathroom. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you want, drink all the coffee. Although I’m betting you’re getting antsy not being at the gym yet.”
He doesn’t crack a smile, but I don’t expect one.
“Georgiana—”
I pause and turn toward him. He blows out a breath, looking endearingly nervous. “Have dinner with me tonight?”
I smile, my heart giving a happy leap that last night wasn’t a one-and-done deal in his book.
And definitely not in mine.
“I’d like that,” I say, keeping my smile bright, my voice light.
He gives me the slightest of smiles, but his eyes are guarded, and I can’t help but think that the dinner invitation was a cop-out substitute for what he really wanted to say.
