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“Nope.” I glance back at Sandra, and she throws me a warm, vibrant smile that I attempt to return.
“Did you get a chance to look at the company info I sent you?”
“I looked at it. But they don’t share any of the research.”
“They say it’s proprietary. Once we invest, we can see more.”
“Smells like BS to me. I’d sidestep it if I were you.”
“That’s your professional opinion?”
“Yep. If you want me to do more research, just say the word. I’m basing that on their site and what you sent me.”
Sunny stretches on her toes, reaching for something in an upper cabinet. Her tank top rises with the stretch, exposing a smooth stomach and her delectable belly button. The cabinet door slams shut, and she mouths, “Sorry.”
“What are you doing?” Sam’s question hits like a bullet of guilt. He has me feeling like a kid who has been doing something wrong and has just been called out.
“About to eat breakfast.”
“Are you entertaining someone?” Sunny’s blue eyes meet mine from across the room.
“Yeah, I am.”
“Who?”
I shift around, turning my back to Sunny. He’s better off not knowing. There’s no reason for him to ever know. “Do you need anything else?”
“Can she hear you?” I glance over my shoulder at Sunny. It’s not like he can see her. It’s an audio call.
“Yes.”
“Okay. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Tuesday. Call me Tuesday. And if you want me to look into anything else, just text me.” Sam’s a good guy. He’s got an army of analysts at his VC firm, but he throws questions my way. I’m not a fool. I mean, sure, I have insights some of his analysts don’t have, but he’s doing it as a favor to me. He paid off my medical school loans in exchange for the completion of several research evaluations. The last few years, I’ve turned his payments into investments that have done remarkably well.
I end the call and meet Sunny’s questioning gaze.
“Everything okay?” she asks, probably assuming it’s the hospital.
“Just fine.” And it is. Sam and Sunny were together two decades ago. He’s happily married. But that doesn’t mean he wasn’t crazy about her back then. That we didn’t tease him for running when she called. For spending all his extra time with her. What we’re doing isn’t wrong, but it’s probably a good thing Sam will never know. No one will ever know.
Sizzling egg mixes with the morning playlist. I more or less waltz over to the chef, loving how relaxed she looks with her hair up, barefoot and beautiful in my kitchen. The stretch of smooth skin between the bottom of her tank and loose, hip hugging pajama bottoms tantalizes me. Her hips sway to the beat ofSunday Morningby Maroon 5.
I want to pull her against me, trail kisses along her neck, and maybe lift her on the counter to christen my kitchen. But that might be too couplish, especially while a song about being all I need is playing. This is just sex, and it’s not even just sex. This is sex with a purpose, and knowing Sunny, she’ll never visit Houston again after the birth of a child. She stayed in Whispering Creek for years for a horse. So, I let us cool a bit and heat up toast and set out butter, jelly, and plates on the breakfast bar.
As far as Sunday mornings go, even without kitchen sex, this one ranks as near perfection. When she joins me at the breakfast bar, she combs her fingers through the back of my hair. A fission of energy spreads across my shoulders and down my arms and spine. It’s enough to eliminate rational thought, and I pull her to me and press my lips to hers. It’s a closed mouth, nothing kiss, but it feels like something two people in a relationship would do. My eyes snap open, searching her face for concern or trouble. She pulls away to sit on the stool, but I don’t register any cause for concern.
Her phone rings, theBlackbirdringtone jarring with the morning playlist filtering through the apartment. “It’s my aunt.” She scrunches her nose and lifts her shoulders apologetically.
“Answer,” I tell her, squeezing her thigh to reassure her, and, well, if I’m honest with myself, to touch her, to placate that visceral, hormonal need.
She speaks to her aunt for a while. Most of the conversation seems to be from her aunt’s end. She eats through the call, every now and then glancing at me with a sexy as fuck smile. I get up and clear the dishes. We didn’t have much to eat, just eggs and toast, so it didn’t take us long to finish.
“Aunt Nora, I’ll call you next week. Sound good?” She hangs up the phone, and it clatters on the counter. “Sorry about that. Aunt Nora can talk.”
“No worries. She doing good?”
“Yeah, I think so. She finished reading a book she knows I won’t read so she wanted to tell me all about it.”
