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A broad, bare chest greets me after I ring the doorbell. It glistens with sweat and heaves with deep breaths. Mute, I lift my gaze up to Rudy’s face.
“You did that on purpose,” I blurt.
His eyes crinkle, but his lips don’t twitch. “Did what?”
“Answered the door without a shirt on.” I wave in his general direction. “You’re punishing me for running out last night.”
Instead of letting me inside, Rudy leans a forearm against the doorjamb and arches a brow. “I didn’t know the sight of me is so disgusting that you’d consider it punishment.”
My eyes travel back down to the droplets of sweat diving down between the muscles in his stomach. I try to think of something to say, but my body feels like it’ll spontaneously combust. Not so much punishment as torture.
Rudy takes a step back, his eyes glimmering. “You’re early,” he finally explains. “Caught me at the end of my workout.”
I check the time on my phone and realize he’s right. It’s eleven, and I told him I’d be here around noon. “Oops,” I say, even though I’m not exactly sorry.
“You want to get started while I get dressed?” He closes the door behind me, his body just inches from mine.
“Sure,” I squeak, then make my way to the spare bedroom.
A few moments later I hear the shower start running, and the blush on my cheeks deepens. I don’t know why, but the thought of Rudy upstairs…naked…with soapy water running all over him…
Blinking rapidly, I stare at the receipts clutched in my hands. I hadn’t even realized I’d picked any up. Screwing my eyes up, I try to read the dates, then give up and grab one of the ledgers Agnes dropped off last night.
I’m still blankly flipping through one of them when Rudy reappears with two coffees in hand. His hair is wet, and he’s wearing a T-shirt and jeans that sit low on his hips. He’s barefoot.
The mug is warm, but what strikes me most is the feel of Rudy’s fingers brushing mine when he hands it over. I nod my thanks, then turn to the boxes of paperwork. “We should start by sorting everything by year,” I say, which is a completely useless comment because it’s exactly what we were doing last night.
“Sure,” Rudy replies, and we get to work.
We work late, and I leave before I do anything I’ll regret, although I do indulge in a long, lingering kiss goodbye. Then I do the same the next day. Rudy sometimes has to take off for a couple of hours at a time to deal with things in his business, but I’m surprised to find I feel at home in his place. I resist the temptation to snoop, though. He usually gets back from viewings or meetings with clients looking tired and relieved to see me. Those smiles he gives me—like I’m a breath of fresh air—make something warm grow in my chest.
I try to ignore how good his presence makes me feel.
Pretty soon it’s the weekend, and I realize I haven’t worried about the baby or my illness for days. Since Rudy and I agreed to take Saturday off, I make my way to the Four Cups Café to meet my sisters for breakfast, feeling lighter than I have in months. We’ve almost finished all our work. I’ve reconciled everything from last year’s tax, and there are just a few more boxes to sort through to make sure the past six years are in order.
It feels good, I realize, to accomplish something without worrying about what the future will bring.
CHAPTER 15
Rudy
Georgia Neves reaches into her purse and pulls out a velvet case, from which she removes a weighty silver pen. Her eyes flick to mine as she gives me a seductive grin. “I’m about to sign my life away, Rudy.”
“If I recall, you called it the property of your dreams.” I give her a professional smile, my hands clasped on the table in my office conference room. After an eternity of viewings and two days of hard negotiation with the sellers—all while doing my best to keep my hands on Lily while simultaneously wanting to spend every waking moment going through old receipts with her—Georgia’s offer on a coastal property ten minutes outside of Heart’s Cove was finally accepted.
“So I did,” she answers.
Pulling glasses out of a case, she props them on the end of her fine, aristocratic nose and starts reading the contract. She was one of those clients that demands time and attention way beyond the normal bounds of a job—but she bought a five-point-one-million-dollar property, so I can’t complain too much. I haven’t gotten a commission check as big as this one in many years. A few of my employees have shot me mock-dirty looks when Georgia insisted on dealing with me personally, but they know they’ll all be rewarded for a good year once the time for annual bonuses comes around.
I sit patiently. Georgia really is an attractive woman. Beautiful, tall, with luscious dark hair and Mediterranean features. She’s exactly the type of woman I would have brought to bed in the past—so why do I feel nothing for her? Ever since Lily walked into the bookstore over a month ago, I’ve lost all interest in other women.
With a swoop of her expensive pen, Georgia signs on the dotted line. “Done,” she proclaims.
“I’ll get this over to the seller right away,” I tell her, tucking the signed contract back into its manila folder.
“I expect a phone call to tell me about the good news in a few minutes, and then we can celebrate.” She extends a hand for me to shake. It’s soft and feminine, and it makes me think of Lily. How it felt to have her skin under my palm, to feel her soft body wrapped up in my arms.
I need to get that woman into my bed, and soon.
