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Yes, to correct her misstep, she’d initiated a fabulous full-body make-out session that left Erik crazy with lust, back where she wanted him. But Thursday morning she’d gotten a call to cover for a singer she owed favors to, and she’d had to leave, without being sure the damage control was complete.
Now here she was, missing the bastard, terrified he had her under his power as much as he was under hers. Or the unthinkable—maybe more.
Somewhere in her kitchen cabinet was a really nice bottle of wine a drunk bar manager had given her a few months back, which she’d saved for a special occasion. At the time she’d hoped it would be a happy one. But maybe this was more appropriate.
She’d just extracted the cork and was about to pour when her phone rang.
Yeah, whoever it was could just screw him-or herself.
Maybe it was Erik.
She rolled her eyes and poured. Yeah, or Gerard Butler.
The phone kept ringing.
It wasn’t going to be Erik.
Except it might be.
She stared at the bottle, at the single glass of wine next to it...and yanked the phone out of her pocket.
It was Erik.
“Sandra. How was the show?”
“Dismal.” She was instantly fizzy inside, having become an utter fool. Hearing his voice was like being given a big drink when you were thirsty—with no idea when the next drink would be coming or how long the supply would last.
“Sorry to hear that. Hey, is that your doorbell? I’ll wait while you answer.”
She looked in confusion at the apartment’s buzzer. “No.”
“I heard it ring.”
“Must have been something on your end.”
“Nope. Yours. Or maybe it hasn’t happened yet. I’m psychic, you know.”
Sandra narrowed her eyes. “Have you been drinking?”
“Not yet.”
Her buzzer rang. Sandra jumped about a mile. “Holy Mary, mother of God, the doorbell.”
“Told you. Go answer it.”
“Well, I... What the hell is going on?” She stepped over to the buzzer and pressed it cautiously. Had he orchestrated some kind of delivery? “Hello?”
“Hey. Let me up.”
“Erik.” Her jaw dropped. She laughed in disbelief. “Okay. You got me. How did you get here?”
“Drove like a demon.”
“You can’t come up, I’m not dressed.”
“I’m sorry, were you expecting me to object to that?”
Sandra grinned, shaking her head, and pressed the button to let him into the building. Erik was here. He’d driven four hours to see her.
She rushed into the bathroom and put on the barest hints of eyeliner and blush. The apartment was a fourth-floor walk-up. It would take him a while to—
The knock came on her door. He must have run up.
She rushed to answer, then forced herself to slow down. Whoa, wait a second, girl. Sandra from Southie didn’t go all flustered and silly for anyone, least of all a guy. She’d made that one mistake, letting down her guard. It appeared she wouldn’t have to pay for that, but she’d be sure not to make another.
Centering herself, she arranged her features into utter calm and opened the door. “Well, well, Mr. Meyer.”
He was gorgeous. Rain had dampened and darkened his hair, and the humidity had curled it slightly. His eyes stood out, blue and intense, in the dim hallway. He held a grocery bag in one hand and a bouquet of mixed roses in the other, as if he was an old-fashioned gentleman come courting.
She loved it.
“Hi there.” He gave her a casual kiss and strolled into her apartment, looking around, not betraying any reaction. “I brought us a late supper.”
“What are you doing here?” She closed the door behind him, thinking how wrong he looked here, how out of place anywhere but a mega-mansion.
“I missed you.” He put the groceries on her table.
“Really.” He missed her! This was good. A relief, really. She hadn’t blown it. She’d just have to be careful today. And every day.
His eyes darted around again, from the groceries he was unloading to the orange shag. The scuffed cabinets. The linoleum counters with the metal strip bent and peeling off one corner. The garbage can she had to keep by the refrigerator because there was no room under the sink. The cracking paint. The tiny living room through a doorway on one end. The tinier bedroom on the other.
Sandra folded her arms across her chest. “Welcome to how the other half lives.”
“Hey, it’s a nice location.” He folded the paper shopping bag and offered it to her.
“You can say it, you know.” She took the bag and stuffed it in the crack between the refrigerator and sink where she kept the others.
“Say what?”
