Debbi Rawlins - If He Only Knew...

So was her taste in decorating. And that was putting it kindly.

As much as Sara wanted to block Cody’s view, she knew there was no turning back now. Not without making him think she was nuts. There was nothing to do but plunge ahead and try not to cringe.

Taking a deep breath, she led Cody into the rather vibrant front room. Orange wasn’t the color Sara would have chosen for the walls but there it was, an interesting contrast to the oversized lemon-yellow sofa that curved like a snake halfway around the freestanding fireplace.

Dreading it, she turned to look at Cody. She had to hand it to him, he kept a straight face. Of course, good lawyers could do that, and he was one of the best in the country.

She steered them farther into the room, and out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the small but open kitchen. Thankfully, she eyed a hutch near the glass dining table stocked with several bottles of booze. Premium stuff, which didn’t surprise her. Chloe was truly gifted and commanded a hefty fee for her work. And she did enjoy the finer things. Even her furnishings, although on the bohemian side, looked like the highest quality.

“I see you like the retro look,” Cody said, eyeing the lime-green side chairs with amused interest.

Sara paused, taking a new look at the place. It was retro, which, for whatever reason, seemed to make it less tacky. “Not really. I have a roommate. This was originally her place. I just moved in two weeks ago.”

“Ah.” He looked relieved.

She hid a smile and dropped her purse on a black lacquered console table beside a sculpture of a nude couple embracing.

Cody came up beside her and studied the sculpture. “Is she going to show up at any moment?”

“No, she’s on her way to Europe.”

His head reared back slightly. “Is that some kind of code?”

“Excuse me?”

“Didn’t you say your sister—”

Sara laughed. “Yes, she really is in Europe. And Chloe left for the French Riviera—” she glanced at her watch “—about three hours ago.”

“Quite a jet-setting crowd you hang around with.”

“Chloe’s also my hairdresser and with what she charges for a haircut, she could probably retire.”

He didn’t comment, just continued to check out the odd pieces of art that adorned the walls, the knickknacks of wrought-iron stick people holding silk flowers and glass fuchsia-colored high heels filled with colored marbles scattered about.

“Why don’t you fix yourself a drink?” she suggested, trying to divert his attention so she could check out the rest of the apartment in privacy. “I’ll be right back.”

“All right,” he said, turning to look at her. Their eyes met and his crinkled with humor. “Going to slip into something more comfortable?”

“You wish.”

“Indeed.”

She laughed, delighted to see this side of him. “I’ll take a club soda while you’re at it.”

“Glasses are in the kitchen?”

Sounded logical. She nodded, and then hurried down the small hall with the sudden hope that there were two bedrooms. Otherwise, she wasn’t sure how she’d explain that.

The first door to the left was a bathroom, the yellow and orange living room colors repeated in its abstract wallpaper. Further down to the left was a nice-sized bedroom decorated in a surprisingly subtle palette of taupe and blue. Placed in the middle of the queen-sized bed was a piece of folded paper. Sara moved in closer to read the writing.

The sheets are clean, it read in large bold letters. Punctuated with a smiley face.

Sara quickly snatched the note and crumpled it in her hand. She turned around just as Cody appeared at the door. She jumped back, coming up against the bed and quickly having to steady herself. “Good grief, you scared me.”

“Sorry, but you don’t have any club soda.” Scanning the room, his startled gaze briefly rested on the dresser, before he stared questioningly into her eyes.

She turned to see what had caught his attention. A picture of Chloe. Naked.

Sara sighed and with great reluctance, looked back at him. This was it. He was going to leave, and she’d never see him again. Wouldn’t blame him one bit. He had to think she was a lesbian. Or at the very least, bi. “That’s my roommate.”

His eyebrows rose slightly. Clearly at a loss for words, he could only stare.

Sara decided that sticking as close to the truth as possible was her best avenue. “She’s a nudist.”

He frowned.

“She’s also a practical joker.”

His frown deepened. “Are you…?” He spread his hand as if he couldn’t bear to finish the question.

She couldn’t help but laugh. “No. Never. Not in this lifetime.”

His mouth curved in a slight smile. “Good.”

“Can’t stand the thought of seeing me naked?”

Cody’s eyes darkened. “Try me.”

“Funny.” She abruptly turned away to get rid of Chloe’s picture. Damn, the man could reduce her to Jell-O with just a look. “I think I’d like something stronger than club soda, after all.”

She approached him, and since he was blocking the door, she expected him to lead them out of the bedroom. Instead, he grasped her by the shoulders and kissed her lightly on the lips. She stiffened, even though she hadn’t meant to.

He pulled back with a weary smile. “I’m hungry. How about you?”

“Starved.”

He stepped aside to let her go first. As she left the room, she saw another door at the end of the hall to the right, which had to mean there was another bedroom. Unfortunately, he already thought this one was hers.

“So, I assume we’re ordering dinner in,” he asked, once they’d returned to the living room. He went back to the small bar where he’d set out two glasses. Ironically, he already knew the apartment better than she did.

“I’m sure not cooking.” She briefly studied the liquor offerings. “Is there any tonic?”

“Right here.” He picked up the bottle. “Plain?”

“Add some gin.”

He uncapped the bottle. “All right, back to dinner. Any preference?”

“I’m easy. You?”

His mouth started to slowly curve. “You’d be amazed how easy I am.”

She flushed at his teasing, knowing if she lobbed the ball back into the same court, there would be no dinner. Nope, she wasn’t ready quite yet.

“I’ll check in the kitchen for takeout menus.”

His shoulders sagged just enough to let her know he understood. Poor guy. She knew she was sending him mixed signals.

She headed for the kitchen, anxious to escape his probing eyes. “As I mentioned, I just moved in. And since it’s a temporary arrangement…”

“Then what will you do?”

“Depends on what job I get.” She found two menus held to the side of the refrigerator with magnets. “Chinese or Italian do anything for you?”

“Either one.”

At the sound of his voice right behind her, she started. “Would you quit sneaking up on me?”

He handed her the gin and tonic. “I didn’t think I had.”

“No, of course not.” She shook her head. “Sorry. It’s been—”

“A bad day. I know.” He took her free hand. “Come here.”

She let him guide her to the living room, her heart beginning a slow steady beat. Then he took her drink and urged her to sit down. After placing both their glasses on the coffee table, he shrugged out of his suit jacket and sat beside her.

“Turn around,” he said.

It took her a moment to realize what he wanted. The second she’d shifted and her back was to him, he pushed her hair aside and then started kneading the tension at the base of her neck. This man definitely had done this before. With his strong fingers, he followed the cords of muscle, applying the right amount of pressure to make her sigh with pure bliss.

“I assume I’m getting the correct spots,” he said in a husky voice, his breath skimming her sensitized skin.

“Oh, baby.”

He slid his hand down her upper arms, and she felt his lips on the side of her neck. She closed her eyes, allowing the pleasure of his touch to wash over her.

Right now, this second, with her eyes closed and the tension easing out of her shoulders, it all seemed like a dream. How many nights had she lain awake in her tiny Manhattan studio apartment, imagining that he was with her, both of them naked, him running his palms over her body?

Her fantasies had been so intense they’d actually elicited dreams so vivid she had barely been able to meet his eyes the next day in the office. And now he was here. Touching her with his strong, capable hands, his warm breath on her neck and his hard body there for the taking. Making her wet and wanting. Maybe…

Oh, don’t let it be a…

He dispelled any possibility that this wasn’t real by crossing his arms over her breasts and pulling her back to lie against his chest. She clutched his forearm, and he apparently misunderstood because he loosened his hold and started to retreat.

Already having screwed up the kiss earlier, she quickly pulled his arms back around her, strategically placing one of his hands over her breast. His sharp exhale stirred her hair and she smiled. He hugged her closer and began to gently knead her breast.

“Sara?”

His gruff whisper took her breath away. She didn’t speak, only tilted her head in answer.

“Look at me.”

She turned around in his arms. His lips were parted, his lids lowered so that his eyes were only slits, but there was no mistaking the smoldering gleam that told her exactly what he wanted.

He lowered his head, and she lifted her mouth to his. Even though they’d already touched, when their lips met, everything changed. A fine tingling started at the crown of her head and traveled down her spine, straight to the dampness between her thighs.

It didn’t help that he took his time, exploring the inside of her mouth with his tongue, leaving no inch untouched. This wasn’t foreplay. It was sheer torture. Exquisite pain, but still.

Unable to stand it another moment, she broke the kiss long enough to turn around. Facing him took the torture to another level. She barely recognized the man. The feral color of his eyes darkened his face, and the normally stoic expression had morphed into pure desire.

He didn’t seem in a hurry to resume the kiss. Instead, he touched her face. Gently, using the back of his hand, he stroked her cheek. And then he drew the tip of his finger across her damp lower lip before leaning in to reclaim her mouth.

She gladly submitted. The urge to touch him, and not only his face, was strong, but if she did, there would be no going back. This was it. The moment of decision. His low moan made it an easy one. As she pushed her tongue into his willing mouth, her hands moved to loosen his tie.

She felt the change in his kiss. They had crossed the border into uncharted territory. It took her a minute, but she finally got his tie undone. He, on the other hand, was far more dexterous and had her blouse all but unbuttoned. She yanked his shirt from his waistband. He did the same with her blouse.

Some part of her brain still persisted in worrying that they were going too fast. That they should talk more, get to know one another better. Then his knuckle lightly caressed her nipple.

“Oh, Sara,” he whispered, pulling back to look at what he’d just touched.

She gave a silent thanks for push-up technology before she got busy taking off his shirt, only to be disappointed that he was an undershirt kind of guy. Not that she hated undershirts, but she really wanted skin. “Wouldn’t you be more comfortable without that T-shirt?”