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“Hey, look who’s off his cell phone,” she mused.
“Funny,” Christian said with a smirk. “Do you want a job or not?”
She flattened her palms on his thighs, wedged herself into the vee his parted legs created, and kissed him. Then she said, “Of course I do.”
Her attention turned to Rory. “Whatever the hell you’re cooking smells absolutely to die for.”
“Cantonese this time.”
“Huh,” she said. “Didn’t see that one coming.”
“What has you in such a good mood?” Christian asked. “On a really dreary day?”
She took a quick peek at the gray weather and said, “We’re in Manhattan. There is no such thing as a dreary day.”
“Fine,” Christian said. “Your optimism trumps all.”
“Yes, it does.” She kissed him again. “And damn it, Rory, I’m suddenly starving. Your food is as irresistible as the both of you, and I’m putting in more time on Christian’s elliptical machine than he is. There’s some bizarre irony in all of this.”
Rory said, “Well, I did once read that having sex burns about two hundred calories, so if you’re having sex with two men at the same time wouldn’t that double the burn and up you to four hundred?”
“I like that logic,” she told him with a nod. “I really do. I’m just not sure—”
Christian’s cell phone rang with the specific jingle that alerted him to the doorman contacting him about the arrival of a visitor or a delivery. It turned out to be a delivery that Christian told him to bring up.
Bayli shoved away from Christian and headed across the apartment.
“Miranda can get the door!” Rory called out.
“She’s upstairs making the bed and cleaning.”
“You will never get used to having staff, will you?” he quipped.
“She’s not my staff. And I’m perfectly capable of answering the door.”
Bayli trotted up the short set of steps to the entryway. She made it to the foyer just as the bell chimed.
Pulling open the double doors, she gave the Building Manager a bright smile. Tom was the one who typically made special deliveries directly to Christian’s floor and the four-story penthouse above him.
“This just came for you, Miss Styles.”
Her eyes fixated on the long, narrow gold box with a red ribbon and bow. “Roses. So old-school Hollywood.” Christian all the way. She accepted the box and Tom closed the doors for her. Feeling a little like Hollywood royalty—though she clearly wasn’t by any stretch of the imagination, but perhaps someday—Bayli tugged at the bow. The velvety ribbon unraveled and she whisked off the lid.
A million tiny spiders suddenly raced over hands and up her arms.
Bayli screamed bloody murder.
À la Phillip and Colin style.
* * *
Rory dropped a bowl of rice, ignored the shattering of the glass, and rushed through the apartment, Christian by his side. They both took the steps to the foyer two at a time.
“Get them off of me!” Bayli screeched.
“Son of a bitch!” Rory exploded as he stomped on the spiders scattering about while Christian lunged forward and brushed the arachnids from Bayli’s body.
Having no great luck, Christian dragged her into the hallway bathroom and Rory heard the instant spray of the shower while Bayli still wailed.
