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“Well, I’m supposed to be house sitting,” I remind him. “Claire’s plants will forgive a couple of days without water, but not much more.”
“I’ll call Manny. He’ll make sure everything is taken care of.”
“What?” I sit up, realizing he’s not joking. “Nick, I’m sure that’s not in his job description.”
“No, it isn’t. But if I ask, I’m fairly certain he’ll be willing to do it.”
I gape, suddenly understanding something I suspected that first night we were together. “You don’t just own the penthouse, do you?”
He smiles.
“Oh, my God,” I groan, but I can’t keep from returning his grin. “You’re crazy. We can’t just disappear for days or weeks on your boat.”
“Of course, we can. Whatever we need, we can get at one of the neighboring keys. Food, coffee, clothing, condoms.” He smiles wickedly. “All the essentials.”
I laugh, realizing I’m practically giddy at the idea of extending this fantasy escape with him. It’s wildly romantic, more than borderline reckless . . . and I can’t think of anything I want to do more.
I have no resistance—not for Nick’s plan, nor for the man himself. Noting my obvious surrender, he cups my nape and drags me to him for a breath-stealing kiss.
I moan when he finally releases me, arousal spiraling hot and tight in my core. “You’re going to corrupt me, you know that?”
“Oh, Ms. Ross. I fully intend to.”
Chapter 33
“Then, after island-hopping around the keys for three weeks, we sailed back to Miami and spent a couple of nights at his beach condo before flying home to New York last week.”
“Damn, girl! That sounds absolutely amazing.” Tasha beams, seated across from me at the diner in Queens where we’ve met for lunch on her day off from Vendange. She’s just spent the last twenty minutes listening indulgently while I recapped the highlights of my tropical escape with Nick.
The PG-rated ones, anyway. The rest of the highlights belong to Nick and me alone.
“You look amazing too, Avery. I can’t decide what you’re wearing better—that killer tan, or the smile that hasn’t left your lips since you walked in here.”
I tilt my head at her. “What, no smartass remarks about Nick or threats to disown me as your friend?”
“Nope. Not when you look this happy. I like seeing you finally let down your guard with someone.” She takes a sip of her iced tea, then salutes me with the glass. “And for the record, I’d be saying that even if your boyfriend wasn’t a drop-dead gorgeous bazillionaire with a yacht and multiple penthouse apartments. But it damn well doesn’t hurt that he is.”
I return her teasing smile, and go back to eating my turkey wrap and fries. “My boyfriend? I’m not sure I’m comfortable calling him that just yet.”
She shoots me an incredulous look. “Are you kidding? Uh, gee, let’s review. You’ve been practically inseparable for the past two months—nearly half of which has been spent alone with him, sunbathing and skinny-dipping your way around the Florida coast on his million-dollar sailboat. Which, by the way, he’s never done with anyone else before. He’s cooked for you, taken you out to nice places and fancy parties, and now you’re sitting in front of me looking like a woman who’s not only extremely well taken care of and well-pleasured, but also very possibly falling head over heels for this man. What the heck would you call him?”
“Well, when you put it that way, maybe.” I laugh and shake my head. “But I don’t know. And I’m not falling in love with him.”
God, am I? What I feel for him is intense, no doubt. It’s white-hot and consuming. After all the time we’ve spent together—naked and otherwise—I certainly can’t call our relationship casual anymore. He is my first thought when I wake up and my last as I’m falling to sleep every night. Granted, both of those moments are usually spent in his arms, but that doesn’t change the fact that there’s nowhere else I’d want to be. And despite the fact that I haven’t considered where we’re heading in just a few more weeks when Claire is due back from Japan, I can’t think of Nick and not imagine us together.
Whatever feelings I have for him, I’m getting in deep and I can’t deny it. Least of all to myself.
Apparently I can’t deny it to my best friend either.
“So where is lover boy today?” she asks as she stabs a forkful of Caesar salad. “I’m surprised he let you out of bed long enough to come see me.”
“He’s got business meetings with his acquisitions team in London again.”
“Oh, back to London again?” She sighs melodramatically, her voice effecting a bored tone. “Well, Tony’s going to Staten Island tom
orrow to head up a new sewer pipe installation with his construction crew. So really, that’s like almost the same thing, right?”
“Shut up.” We burst into a fit of giggles, and I shake my head at her. “Anyway, Nick left yesterday and he won’t get home until a week from Friday.” I don’t mention that I’m missing him terribly and can’t wait for our time apart to pass. Instead, I munch on a fry and glance over at Tasha. “Speaking of work, how are things at the restaurant?”
