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He probably knows what’s on my mind because instead of running to me, he just stands there with his hands on his hips and smirks.
Feeling bold, I raise my phone and snap a photo of him. He laughs as he walks back to his bedroom to put clothes on. I’m not much of a photographer, but Andrew’s photo is most definitely wallpaper-worthy.
I end up putting it as his photo on my contacts.
A few moments later, he’s back wearing black sweatpants and an old worn gray t-shirt. He looks at the plates and smiles. “Thanks for dinner. You saved me from sleeping my hunger away.”
“You do that?”
He shrugs and grabs a bottle from one of the cabinets. He opens it and pours in two glasses. “You can drink, right?”
“I’m 20.”
He blinks rapidly to hide his shock. “You’re 20?”
“Yeah, but Dad lets me drink sometimes at home. You won’t tell on me, will you?”
He laughs. “No, baby girl. I won’t.”
Baby girl. He just called me his baby girl. Why is that term doing so many things to me?
He sits down across from me and pushes one wine glass toward me. “This will be our little secret.”
He winks at me but suddenly realizes the double meaning of what he just said. Our little secret. We both know it’s not just the wine. Promise hangs in the air, and it’s all I can do not to launch myself at him and give me what I want. What I need.
Andrew clears his throat and starts eating. I follow suit, watching him closely for telltale signs that he doesn’t like the dish. His eyes widen, crinkling at the corners, and he smiles. “This is really good, Andrea.”
The way my name sounds on his lips sends shivers down my spine. Oh god. What’s happening to me? I’m one touch away from toppling over the edge, all because I’m crazy about every little thing he does.
“Thank you.”
“I know we haven’t finished our interview, but we can continue tomorrow over breakfast. What’s it for again?”
Breathing a sigh of relief that we can talk about something that would distract me from my desires, I launch into a spiel my group mates and I agreed on, “Our professor assigned us to deliver our very own magazine. We have to come up with everything—from the niche or industry to the covers and content. We decided on something along the lines of TIME magazine People of the Year or something. Some of my group mates would interview athletes or people from other professions while I have you.”
“That's pretty interesting. Wish we had something like that in college. So why did you pick me? Your dad’s just as successful.”
I can’t help but snort. “He’s just gonna turn the interview into a bunch of dad jokes only he finds funny.”
He barks out a laugh. “Sounds like Paul alright. Okay, but you didn’t give me an answer.”
“Well,” I try to stall since I can’t very well admit to him upfront that I’ve just been waiting for a chance to meet him. “I mean, it’s kind of a given because you’re the best surgeon in the entire state. You’re honestly the first person who came to mind when I got my assignment.”
That part’s true, at least. Then again, he’s always been on my mind so I’ll jump at the chance to spend time with him.
“Hmm.”
We finish eating and I stack up the plates on the sink. It’s a single basin made of porcelain. There’s a huge window above it, offering a clear view of the ocean, which, at the moment, is all darkness.
“I’m doing the dishes, Andrea. You’ve done enough for me.” I’m so mesmerized by the pitch-black darkness outside it takes me a moment to realize Andrew is standing beside me.
“No, that’s fine.”
“No. You go ahead and relax…maybe watch the news even, to see if there’s any new info on this storm clearing.”
Wiping my hands on the small towel, I nod and offer him a smile. Andrew is as sexy in an apron tied around his waist as he is wearing only a towel.
Damn it. Why does he have to look this good? My body is always reacting to him. I might need to wash my panties because they’re soaked. The problem is… I don’t have a spare.
