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“Most,” I admit, handing him his mug. “I have a problem, I can’t stop buying them, especially the old ones. Every time I walk into a used bookstore, or find a stoop sale, I have to take a look. I mean,Jolly Gelatin: 101 Southern Salad Recipes? Who could resist that?”
“Who’s the author?” Austin jokes, “Is Chef Robby moonlighting?”
I laugh, trying to relax as he takes a seat on the couch,
and I regale him with the cast of characters who filled up my home tonight. “It sounds like a great group,” he says, sipping his coffee.
I nod. “It’s tricky, making friends as an adult. You know, when you don’t have college, or study groups to fall back on. But I love knowing that every week, we’ll catch up, and stay involved.”
Austin nods. “I’m lucky, I know, having the guys. We’ve known each other ten, fifteen years now. through good and bad.”
“I bet they’d have some stories to tell,” I quip.
He chuckles. “Sorry, we’ve all sworn a blood oath. You won’t get a word out of them.”
“Darn it.” I laugh.
Our eyes meet, and the laughter fades, because suddenly, the sexy elephant in the room can’t be ignored any longer.
Austin is here. Just a few feet away. And it would be so easy for me to close the distance between us and finish what we started back at the batting cages. I want to lean in and kiss him slow, ask him to take me to bed. I want to wake up beside him in the morning and pull him into the shower with me. I want to put my feet on his lap as I knit and listen to the ambient noise of a baseball game he’s watching on TV…
“Well, I should let you get to bed,” Austin says, bolting to his feet.
Bed, I think helplessly. My mouth practically waters.
“Thanks for having me.”
Have me, I think helplessly.
“Sure,” I agree, following him to the door. “See you tomorrow.” I realize, it’s the weekend. “I mean, Monday. In the office.”
“Right.” Austin pauses in the doorway, like there’s something he wants to say. Finally, he ventures: “Look, I know I’m your boss, and that makes this a whole lot more complicated. But what happened earlier… The kiss. It wasn’t an impulse thing.”
I blink. “It wasn’t?” I squeak.
“No.” Austin slowly shakes his head, his eyes fixed on me.
Holy shit!
Does this mean… He likes me? Is interested in dating me? Wants to dive into bed for a weekend of unyielding pleasure?
My mind leapfrogs to all the thrilling possibilities, a blissful rush of giddy adventures getting to know this man better.
Like he can get to know you?
An unwelcome voice of logic cuts through the rush, and just like that, I realize, I’m totally, utterly, and completely screwed.
And not face-down in the bedsheets, with Austin using those capable hands to show me pleasure all night long.
Nope.
This kind of screwed is a solo endeavor—and worst still, it’s all my own doing. I’m already in way over my head with this whole Other Jennifer Walker thing. There’s no way I can get tangled up with Austin romantically, not when I still haven’t revealed the truth about our professional relationship.
Especially when he’s been nothing but honest with me.
I could howl in frustration, but instead, I just tear my gaze away from the question in Austin’s eyes. “You should be going,” I mutter, aching with regret. “I bet you have an early workout scheduled, and I’m sure that coffee didn’t help.”
I swear I see disappointment flash across his face, or maybe that’s just wishful thinking. Because, come on, this is Austin Banks we’re talking about. There’s probably a line of women stretching halfway to Staten Island for a chance to help him with his batting form.
