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usual white T-shirt and blue nylon jogging pants. His steps were a bit slower today.
“Are you okay?”
“Fine.” His brows were drawn over his brown eyes like he was angry about something. Not like the time he’d threatened to kill her angry, but angry. Or maybe he was in pain.
“You look—” His mouth on hers cut off her breath in mid-sentence. Like a lot of thing he did to her last night, the kiss was a complete ravishment. Just as she was starting to get into it, he pulled back and said, “Don’t ever sneak out of my house again.”
She touched her moist bottom lip. “I didn’t sneak.”
“You snuck.”
Was he really mad because she’d left in the middle of the night? “Are you upset because I didn’t wake you up before I left?”
“I’m not upset.” He glanced away. “I don’t get upset.”
But he was. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”
He looked back at her and let out a frustrated breath. “I don’t get hurt feelings. I’m not a girl.”
That was such a ridiculous statement that she tried and failed not to smile. “I know you’re not a girl. I think you proved it last night.”
One corner of his mouth twitched. “You sore?”
“A little. I haven’t worked out like that in a while.”
He placed his hands on the sides of her face and looked into her eyes. “You’re not some woman I picked up in a bar, Chelsea. You’re not a one-night stand. Don’t sneak out on me.”
If she wasn’t a one-nighter, what was she? “Okay.”
He took her hand and moved to the passenger-side door. “I’m starving. Do you want to eat around here or in Issaquah?”
She turned and looked up at him. At the sun filtering through his hair. She might not be a one-night stand, but she wasn’t his girlfriend either. She wasn’t even in that really nebulous place where all relationships start. She worked for Mark. She couldn’t date him. So, what was she doing getting into his car? “How far to Issaquah?”
“We were just there a few weeks ago.”
“We’ve been to a lot of places in the past few weeks.” She sat in the passenger seat and glanced up at him. “I can’t keep them all straight.” Then again, it was just a sandwich. A sandwich didn’t mean anything. It was five bucks and she could pay that herself.
“It’s about ten minutes.” He shut the door and walked to the other side. “Or we can go with plan B,” he said as he got in across from her. “Go to my house, order a pizza, and eat it in bed.”
She laughed. “Was Issaquah just a ruse?”
“No, but we’re going to end up at my house in bed anyway. Why waste time?” He put the Mercedes into reverse and backed out of the space.
She should probably be offended that he just assumed she’d fall into bed with him again. Maybe she should put up some resistance. Play a little harder to get. Or just resist temptation altogether. “Don’t you want to see the house?”
“I can see it tomorrow with the Realtor.” He looked across his shoulder at her, his eyes and voice a smoky caress. “The choice is yours.”
“Plan B.” She was weak. A sinner with no will-power to resist temptation.
He chuckled. “Good answer. You won’t be sorry.”
And she wasn’t. They ate pizza in the leisure room and watched movies on the enormous television. Of course, he had just about every station.
“Even your television has the premium package,” she said.
He chuckled and took her empty plate. “There’s only one package you need to worry about,” he said as he set the plate on the floor next to the chaise. He pulled her on top of him until her legs straddled his lap. She put her hands on his big chest and looked down into his deep brown eyes.
“I woke up wanting you again.”
