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Chapter Six
The following morning, Everett knocked softly on Izzy's door. He heard grumbling on the other side and smiled.
The door opened after a few thumps and Isabel's sleep-tousled head appeared. She wore a tank and shorts with a short, lightweight robe thrown on top. Seeing him on her doorstep, she hastily crossed the robe over her front and tied it.
"What are you doing here?"
"Escorting you to brunch," he said, entering her apartment without waiting on an invitation. When he stepped next to her, he held up a freshly brewed coffee from downstairs and watched as Isabel licked her lips before sinking her teeth into her lower one. The sight made him want to do that to her himself.
"You can't get on my good side with coffee."
"You sure about that?" he asked, tilting the cup to and fro to tease her.
She frowned harder, and he had a difficult time holding back a chuckle. Even grumpy, with her hair pulled up in a messy bun, she was beautiful.
"Gimme."
Another chuckle emerged from him, and he liked that she could pull that kind of response. He knew he took life far too seriously, but having grown up the way that he had, someone had needed to be serious. It was the only way of keeping his grandfather’s legacy alive after his father’s bumbling through women had nearly destroyed it in the early years.
Everett closed the door behind them and watched as she made her way over to a round, puffy chair. He studied her apartment with interest, wanting to take in every detail that might give him more insight into her.
The windows were covered in blinds but then had a gauzy fabric draped over them as well. Her faded blue velvet sofa held an assortment of pillows. Some furry, some sparkling, and some simply woven. The coffee table was made of driftwood covered with clear glass, and atop it was a stack of tabletop art books and what looked to be art supply catalogues.
The small living room backed up against the kitchenette, divided by a bar with a couple of stools. Her actual dining area was filled with an easel, table, crates, paints, canvas, tools, and other odds and ends piled high on every surface.
"Nosy much?"
The grumbled query brought his attention back to her, and he stared at the long stretch of her bare legs where she'd curled them up on the chair. "You love your art."
"My mother calls it a decorating nightmare."
"All I see is a need for more space."
"Yeah, well, space comes at a premium when you live at the beach." She took another sip of her coffee and eyed him over the rim. "Why are you here, Everett?"
He shoved his hands into the pockets of his casual slacks, an appropriate choice for brunch with her family at the beach, he thought, and tilted his head to the left as he regarded her. "I thought we should talk before heading over. Discuss our Vegas story in detail?"
She'd lifted the cup to her lips for another drink but froze at his words.
"I thought we'd agreed on keeping our stupid mistake a secret."
"We did. But at some point, someone could ask what we wound up doing in Vegas after your show."
Isabel squeezed her eyes shut and leaned her head back on the cushion behind her.
"Drinks. That's all we have to say," she said, running a hand over her hair. "And as far as staying married, we’renot. Besides, what are the odds that my one and only one-night stand would result in a pregnancy?"
He could give her the statistics but doubted she actually wanted to hear them.
"As far as brunch goes, our story is that you know Michael, he mentioned me having a show there, and we met when you introduced yourself and had drinks after the show.Endof story."
"Your aunt saw me kiss you last night."
"We're friends. No big deal."
"Do you kiss all of your male friends?" Jealousy spiked through him, a surprise to say the least. He'd never felt enough about a woman to be jealous of what she did or with whom, but here he sat with a woman he barely knew yet was married to, and the thought of her kissing other men made him want to growl and claim her like a caveman.
One slim eyebrow rose on her face, and he watched as she shrugged.
