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Her own battle of excitement and fear waged inside her and Veronica wondered if this was also her moment to start a new chapter in hers.
Chapter Six
At the knock, Veronica waited five beats before she opened the front door. She didn’t want to seem too eager, even though she’d been sitting on her staircase for the last thirty minutes waiting for Finn to arrive.
Two days had gone by at an exceptional snail’s pace, but the night had finally arrived.
Cal was at work, and Mark, well, he’d mumbled something about not coming home at all before loping out the door a few hours earlier.
Tonight was the night she would put her research to the test. Tonight she would finally have Finn O’Reilly the way she had always dreamed. Naked. And whispering her name.
She checked herself in the hall mirror and smoothed down the front of her silver blouse, pulling down the ends to maximize the effect of the thick belt that wrapped around her waist. She smoothed down her hair and pursed her lips. Madison had stopped by and taken control of her pre-date beauty preparations, making Veronica virtually unrecognizable. But she had to admit, she loved what she saw.
She opened the door and cocked her hip, trying her best to mimic the sexy stance Madison had spent half an hour trying to get across.
Her breath caught at the sight of Finn filling up the entire doorway. To her pleasure, his mouth gaped just a tiny bit when she opened the door. But as good as she’d thought she looked when she had quadruple-checked herself in the mirror, he was a total knockout.
She’d always had a preference for him in his chef’s coat, but tonight, dressed in dark jeans and white running shoes, he was skirting the edge of badass. His T-shirt peeked out from the vee of his button-down shirt, which he probably put on to “dress up” for her. But he could have shown up in a garbage bag and she would have found him just as smokin’ hot.
“You are—” He didn’t finish his sentence, but the hard breath he released and the way his eyes took in every inch of her body spoke volumes.
Point Veronica. Madison had done the job.
“So, my ambition to seduce you with just one look worked?”
“Half a look.” He brought his hand up to his chest. “I’m just noticing those boots.”
Her pulse quickened when the muscles in his jaw rippled and tightened. She coaxed him inside with a wave. “Come in.”
“Thanks.” He stepped over the threshold, his hard body brushing past her as he entered her home. She closed the door, but without turning aside her gaze. His backside was far too sexy to ignore.
“I guess being in charge has its perks. Cal working on your night off, and all.” She knew she was playing coy. Even though she had been the one to demand he rearrange his schedule to accommodate their…game?
He moved closer and her breath caught. “I’m not going to lie and say I haven’t been looking forward to this. More than I should. And I will do whatever it takes to go through with our deal. Even if it means working Cal into the ground.”
She chuckled. “I have no problem with that. He needs…something.” Her problems with Cal hadn’t improved any, now that Ali had gone off to school. Veronica wasn’t expecting miracles.
“How about we forget it all for tonight?” He checked his watch. “At least for the next seven hours.”
It sounded like heaven.
“Come with me, Mr. O’Reilly. I have a scrumptious dinner waiting for you.”
Before she turned, he grabbed her hand. Heat, fast and steady, overwhelmed her. His eyes gave away his hunger, but it wasn’t for whatever she had cooking in the kitchen.
She cleared her throat and guided him, hand in hand, to her kitchen.
“It smells good in here.” He stopped in the doorway. “You know, I’ve never had a woman cook for me before.”
She continued to the stove. “If I didn’t already know you, I’d probably be too scared to. But considering you’ve eaten my glue-like macaroni and cheese since you were thirteen, it can’t get much worse, right?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” He crossed his arms over his chest and made a face. “Those shrimp are pretty overcooked.”
“What?” Sweat broke out across her body. She searched the counter for a pair of tongs. Damn utensils, they suddenly all looked the same. Finally, she grabbed a fork and pierced a shrimp, lifting it up for inspection.
“That’s impossible. I followed the recipe.” She picked up the printout. She’d found it on one of the more popular internet foodie sites. “It says to cook them for twelve minutes.”
She knew he’d moved closer when the warmth of his body surrounded her. The heat from the stove was nothing compared to his.
