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Dahlia had come so far, so fast in this exploration of her true erotic self. Hayden had unleashed something she’d always kept tightly controlled. But did she want the kind of intense intimate life these two women shared with their partners?
It was all too much to think about. She picked up one of the dessert menus the waitress had left when she’d cleared away their food. “I’m suddenly suffering from a case of information overload,” she said, managing a laugh. “I need some dessert.”
“Brilliant idea,” Cleo enthused. “Do you fancy one of their coconut cream pie cupcakes? They’re to die for.”
“Yum,” Jess said. “Let’s get three.”
“Sounds good to me,” Dahlia agreed with a grin.
“And three Irish coffees with whipped cream,” Jess chimed in. “Since none of us is driving.”
Chapter 15
What the hell was going on?
Normally Hayden was the one who had to set the boundaries, gently but firmly making it clear to whatever woman was in his life that he needed his space, and lots of it. But with Dahlia, it was different. He wanted to spend every spare second with her. It was a new, disconcerting state of affairs, but he just couldn’t help himself. She’d gotten into his blood, and he couldn’t get enough of her.
He had been mildly annoyed when she’d begged off Saturday night, explaining she’d had a little too much to drink with the girls and needed to go home and sleep it off. He was glad she was connecting with his group of friends, and if that meant he had to step aside from time to time, he could deal with that.
But when she’d texted early Sunday morning that she was taking the train down to see her parents in Connecticut for the day for her father’s birthday, his irritation increased. He had to bite his tongue to keep from begging her to cut her trip short, instead of staying overnight and taking a commuter train back to the city in the morning.
He was to blame for Monday night, as he couldn’t wriggle out of the club’s quarterly Head Master meeting, which was held at 8:00, and tended to drag on for far too long. He didn’t feel it was fair to ask Dahlia to wait around for him to show up, especially since she had a very early surgery scheduled the next morning and needed to be on top of her game.
But now they’d gotten to Tuesday, and when she’d texted him at six that evening to explain she was too exhausted to do anything but head home to her own apartment and crash, it was the last straw.
It was beginning to occur to him she might actually be avoiding him for some reason. If that was the case, he wanted to know why. Now. He wouldn’t let another night go by without seeing her—end of story. If she didn’t want to come to his place then, damn it, he’d go to her.
So there he stood on a Tuesday night, pizza and wine in hand, just outside Dahlia’s apartment door. He’d managed to get into her building by waiting until someone else punched in the code and slipping in behind them. Now, he pushed the buzzer beside her door and stepped back, waiting impatiently.
“Who is it?” she called out from the other side of the door.
“Pizza delivery man,” he called back, grinning into the peephole.
The lock turned and the door opened. Dahlia was in her bathrobe, a towel wound around her head. Her smile appeared genuine as she gazed up at him. “Hey there. What a nice surprise.” She eyed the pizza box. “That smells great. I was just pondering what I might make for dinner.”
“I brought wine, too.” He held up the bottle.
“Good man.” Dahlia stepped back and gestured him inside.
Hayden allowed her to take the box and bottle from his hands. After he’d shrugged out of his coat, Dahlia glanced down at herself with an apologetic shrug. “I wasn’t exactly expecting company. I’ll just go throw something on and be right out. Let me just put this stuff on the table.” She walked the few feet to the small table located in the tiny alcove just outside the kitchenette.
As she turned around, Hayden cradled Dahlia’s face in his hands and gave her a long, lingering kiss. She smelled of lavender soap and lemon shampoo. After just a second, she kissed him back.
When he let her go, he noted that her eyes had brightened, and color had risen into her cheeks—good signs.
“There’s a corkscrew in the drawer to the right of the sink if you want to open the wine,” she said, slightly out of breath. “I’ll be right out.”
After she’d vanished into her bedroom, Hayden found the corkscrew and opened the wine. He got glasses, plates and napkins and placed them on the table. When Dahlia still hadn’t emerged from the bedroom, he wandered back into the living area.
