She started to the back, hamburger bag in hand, and pulled out her phone and dialed Luis. It went straight to voice mail.
She left a message. “Hey. You planning to come Sunday? If you’d like, I could drive to Austin. I think I could use a long drive.” To clear my head, because I think I’m losing it. “Call me please. And charge your phone.”
Ten minutes after following the Porsche back to the vet clinic, Austin got her call.
He barely said hello. “You shouldn’t have done that,” she insisted.
“Done what?”
“Lunch.”
“It really set me back.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Did you eat it?” Had she really returned from her date hungry?
“That’s not the point, either,” she said.
“Then what is?” he asked. When she didn’t answer, he said, “I think you’re taking this ‘no gift’ thing a little far.”
She paused. “It would help if you’d let me give you something.”
His mind created all sorts of ideas. “Hey, I don’t have any problems with gifts.” As those images got erotic, he reminded himself of the no-touching rule.
“Great.” She sounded happy. Had she sounded like that with the Porsche driver? “See you tonight then.”
“Okay.” Smiling, in spite of knowing how hard this evening was going to be, he added, “What’s for dinner? Chinese? Or did you get enough of that at lunch?”
She paused. “Evelyn told…” She let out a huff. “I don’t like Chinese food.”
“I know that, but your friend didn’t.” He ran a hand over his face. “You ate your hamburger, didn’t you?”
Silence hung there, until she said, “Yes, I ate it. Thank you.”
“You should practice that.” He imagined her sitting at her desk. Then he heard a meow, probably that damn office cat. He ran a finger behind his ear.
“Practice what?”
“Saying thank you when people give you something. It sounded a little unappreciative.”
“It did not. I meant it. The burger was good. I was hungry. And it had cheese on it.”
He laughed, but it ended when a dark sedan pulled up in the vet parking lot. “How did the business lunch go?”
“What all did Evelyn tell you?”
Not nearly enough. The car pulled up in front of the doorway and idled there.
“Did she give you my bra size, too?” Her tone rang with humor and frustration.
He laughed but didn’t look away from the car. Were they dropping someone off? He noticed the car had dark-tinted windows. He recalled wanting tinted windows himself to hide behind. Was someone in the car hiding? “No bra size information.” His attention stayed on the car. “But I’ve got that one figured out.” Had she forgotten he’d gotten to see them?
“You’re good at that, huh?” she asked.
“Most guys are.” What was the damn sedan doing? “All Evelyn said was that you were at a business lunch at a Chinese restaurant.”
“Well, that’s all there was to say.” In the background he heard Evelyn tell Leah she had clients. “Gotta go.”
“See ya tonight. We’ll figure out dinner then.” Leaning forward, he tried to make out the license plate. He couldn’t.
Was someone looking at the hours of operation they posted on the doors? Or were they looking for Leah? The car backed up and then drove to the back of the parking lot and stopped as if casing the place, or looking to see what cars were back there. Like Leah’s car. Finally, it pulled away.
Suspicious, he followed. He’d at least get the license plate.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
AUSTIN FOLLOWED LEAH home. He’d gotten the suspicious sedan’s license plate and called Tyler with instructions to get the number run ASAP.
When Leah pulled into the parking lot, he pulled past the apartment building and parked up the street. He waited several minutes before calling.
“You home?” He ran a finger behind his ear, which still itched.
“Just pulling up. I saw your truck wasn’t here.”
“My meeting with my client ran long. I’m getting home in ten minutes. Why don’t you give me time to shower and come over? We’ll discuss dinner.”
“We don’t have to do dinner,” she said.
“We both have to eat.”
“But…”
“I promised no more kisses. Just fun, okay?” He held his breath.
“That was pretty fun last night.”
He laughed. “I thought so, too. But tonight we’ll take it down a notch.”
She sighed. “Fine. I got your gift. I hope you like it.”
“I will.” Whatever Leah gave him, he’d like. He didn’t care if it was a pair of polka-dotted underwear.
“See you,” she said sweetly.
“Are you in your apartment?” he asked.
“No, I told you I just pulled up.”
“Then talk to me until you get inside,” he said.
“Why?”
“Because your place was broken into and you got a bloody package delivered to you.”
“You worry too much.”
“You don’t worry near enough.”
“Fine.” He heard her shuffling. “I have to get your gift out.”
“Is it heavy?”
“A little,” she answered. They talked a few minutes. “Are you in your apartment yet?”
“Leaving the elevator.”
“I could swear I heard your cats.” He scratched his ear.
“Maybe you’re hearing things. All those hits on the head.” She chuckled. Her keys jingled in the background. “Okay, I’m in my apartment.”
“Good.” Cat noises filled the line—a lot of cat noises. Thank God she agreed to come to his place. His ear hadn’t stopped itching since that varmint put its claw on him.
Thirty minutes later, shaved, showered, and scared shitless he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off Leah, he answered her knock.
“Come in.” He stepped back.
She stood in the doorway, looking nervous and sexy as hell. Her hair hung loose. She had some gloss on her lips. She wore a pair of fitted jeans and a button-down pink shirt. The first two buttons were undone. His fingers itched to release the rest of them.
“Ready for your gift?” she asked.
“Sure,” he said.
She reached to the side and brought a cat carrier into his apartment. He took three steps back. A meow echoed and an orange paw poked out of the carrier.
He blinked. She nipped at her bottom lip. “I know it’s a surprise and—”
“No.” One word managed to leave his lips.
“He needs a home.” She shut the door, set the cage down, then released the door of the cage. “I’d keep him myself if—”
“No.” The cat poked his head out. It was the friggin’ cat from the office.
“This isn’t fair, Leah. I can’t—”
“I know,” she said. “That’s why I decided not to give him to you, but just ask you to foster him for a while.” She scooped the feline out of the cage and stepped closer. He stepped back. “Three days,” she pleaded. “If you aren’t in love with him by Monday, I’ll take him back to work with me.”
“I can’t,” he said. “I don’t have food, a box, or…” Or the courage…
“It’s all in the car. And if you keep him, all the supplies come with him.”
“You’re asking too—”
“Three days.” Her soft brown eyes widened with hope.
He shook his head. “Can’t do it. You’ll be upset when I say no.” He backed to the sofa and dropped down.
“I won’t be upset. I know how hard it is to lose a cat. After what happened to Snowball, it was years before I got another cat.”
He remembered his lie about his cat dying. She moved in, cat in her arms, and sat beside him. The cat hissed and then shot off and darted back in his cage.
“See, he doesn’t like me.”
“He’s just scared,” Leah said. “He’s been moved from one home to another.”
Austin could relate to being afraid. He was so afraid he considered coming clean, telling her he’d lied about his cat, about being here, about DeLuna, but she might be mad. And if she pushed him away, how would he be able to protect her?
“Leah, I have meetings and—”
“As long as you give him a few hours of affection, keep his box clean, and feed and water him, he’s fine. Of course, when you fall in love with him, you’ll do more.”
The cat peered at him from the carrier. “He doesn’t like me.”
“He does. He’s just shy around strangers. But Evelyn said he was all over you today.”
And I ran like a scared girl.
“Please? Just three days.”
Three days sleeping in the same apartment with a cat?
“He was brought in by this guy who rescued him from living in a Dumpster. Someone abandoned him. He was starving and scared, but so hungry for love that it broke my heart. He followed me around the vet office but wouldn’t let me touch him for days. I really want to keep him myself, but I can’t take in more.”
He frowned.
She smiled. “Say yes and you’ll be my hero.”
Her hero? Damn, he wanted to be her hero. “Will I lose the title when I give him back to you in three days?”
“No.” She tilted her head to the side, her expression so damn cute. “He’s neutered, too.”
The cat, hunched down in the opening of its carrier, did look scared. And no wonder. “He trusted you and you cut his nuts off.”
She leaned against him—practically buried her cheek in his shoulder. Her gentle weight was sweet. And tempting. For a woman who’d run out in a huff after they made out last night, she was getting cozy. He liked cozy.
Had she had second thoughts? If so, he’d be in trouble. Saying no would be hell.
“Say yes,” she pleaded.
Leah wasn’t sure who was more hesitant about this whole deal. Spooky or Austin. But her gut said it would work out. Spooky would win Austin over. And Austin would win Spooky over. That was a no-brainer, because both of them had won her over.
After setting up the litter box, and getting food and water out, she tried to call Luis. His phone went straight to voice mail. Again.
“Something wrong?” Austin asked.
“Luis isn’t picking up his phone. Like always.”
They sat at the kitchen table. Spooky hadn’t come out of the carrier yet. Though he sat at the opened door and watched them. Austin, pushing his chair back on two legs, watched him back. “You could probably pick him up,” she suggested.
“No,” he said. “He needs to make the first move.”
“Sometimes they need reassurance.” She stood up.
“No!” He caught her hand. “We’ll work this out between us. Or we won’t.”
She sat down.
Austin poured them wine. “How about going out for Italian? Chicken Marsala or Shrimp Alfredo?”
“No.” She was overdrawn in her weekly calories allotment and overdrawn on her weekly budget due to doorknob repair and wine. Not to mention she might have to put out a couple of hundred for Luis if he needed a hotel. She had an emergency fund, and this qualified as an emergency, but being broke stunk. Right then she decided to take Eric Taylor up on his offer. Her penny-pinching days needed to end.
“If you want Italian, go,” Leah said.
“It’s my treat.”
She frowned. “You already bought me coffee and lunch.”
“Fine. What are we going to eat?” He crossed his arms.
“I’m thinking scrambled eggs and a piece of dry toast.”
“Ugg.”
They compromised on omelets. She offered to go back to her place and cook, but he insisted they stay here and do it together.
She insisted on supplying the eggs and cheese.
He called her difficult. She called him pushy. She won.
A few minutes later, she beat the eggs while he cooked the bacon. They worked together in the tiny kitchen, brushing up against each other every few seconds. Those seconds felt good. Too good. And a couple of times, she did it on purpose.
While they worked he told her about teaching himself to cook after a bout of the flu and getting caught up in cooking shows.
“You watched cooking shows?” She chuckled.
He shrugged. “The cook was sexy.”
In spite of his promise of no kissing, she noticed him studying her mouth and knew he thought about last night. Not that she hadn’t thought about it. She had.
A lot.
Repeat performance, she wanted to say, and fought the urge to go grab her water gun and restart the fun and games.
But embarrassingly enough, she mostly thought about getting close enough to smell his armpits. When she leaned into him on the sofa, she’d hoped he’d put his arm around her—which would’ve made it easy to bury her nose in the right spot.
He hadn’t put his arm around her. If anything he’d pulled away.
When he’d been setting up the kitty box, she’d tried to close in, but he’d scooted away.
It sounded crazy, even gross, but before the night ended, she was going to sniff his pits. And tomorrow, she was giving Sara and Evelyn hell for putting this nonsense notion in her head.
“We’ll need some butter,” he said. When he opened the refrigerator, she saw her opportunity. She ducked under his arm, and popped up. But since she didn’t have a nose in the back of her head, she needed to turn around. She hesitated, instantly aware of his warmth behind her. All she had to do was turn around and plop her nose where it didn’t belong.
She did it. He flinched but didn’t step back.
“You need something from the fridge?”
She tilted her head up and their eyes met. His arm remained stretched out, holding the fridge open. Her gaze shifted down. His armpit was inches from her nose. She inhaled, but only frying bacon filled her senses. She leaned a bit closer.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
She listened to the hum of the ice maker as it joined in with the sizzling coming from the stove. She cut her eyes up. “I… was… going to suggest you use margarine instead.”
“I only have butter.” His gaze lowered to her mouth.
She ran her tongue over her lips. “I have margarine at my place.”
“Butter’s better,” he whispered.
She eased closer, her chin practically resting on his chest, and inhaled again. Still nothing.
“You’re making this hard for me,” he said.
“Because I want margarine?”
“Hard to keep my promise not to kiss you.”
She smiled. “I’m sorry.” But she wasn’t. Her gaze flickered to his arm again. “Do you wear cologne?”
“Sometimes. Why?”
She leaned in and sniffed his chest then turned her face and… bingo. Drawing in a deep breath, she forgot about everything but his wonderful addictive scent. Sara was right. The armpit test worked.
“Didn’t I put deodorant on?” he asked.
She looked up, her face heated. “You’re… fine.” So fine.
He laughed, probably at the embarrassment on her face. “You’re adorable.”
She inched up on her tiptoes. Her mouth brushed his, but he slid his fingers between their mouths.
“I’m not supposed to let you kiss me, either, remember?”
“I didn’t bring my water gun,” she said, feeling breathless.
“I noticed that.” His voice sounded like velvet.
“What if I released you from that promise?” She moistened her lips again.
He almost looked panicked. “No.”
“Why?”
“Because…” He hesitated. “You’ve had wine.”
“Barely a glass.”
“But you haven’t eaten, so it could’ve gone to your head.”
Was he really telling
her no? Talk about an ego bruiser. “You don’t want to kiss me?” Confusion and embarrassment filled her chest.
“I want that and more. But last night you lit out of here after we’d taken a few clothes off, just like you did the night before.” He poked his hands in his pockets like a kid who’d just been told he couldn’t touch. Then he pulled one out. “I’d like for this”—he waved a hand between them—“to not fall apart before it starts. So I think we should take it slow.”
“Odd,” she said.
“What’s odd?” His voice sounded tight.
“I didn’t know guys ever went for slow.”
He frowned. “This is my first time. It doesn’t feel natural.” He tucked his hands back into his pockets. He exhaled. “I’d love to take those clothes off of you and make love to every inch of you, but—”
“Stop.” She took a step back and bumped into the refrigerator shelves. She welcomed the cool air, because she felt hot all over.
“I was only talking about a kiss, I didn’t mean…” It was a lie. She’d already admitted to playing with fire. She wanted his hand between her legs again, his mouth on her breasts. She wanted all their clothes off. The sizzle and pop from the frying pan filled the tiny kitchen, the cold air came at her back, but all she felt was the heat in his eyes. He wanted her.
“We couldn’t stop at a kiss,” he said.
Self-conscious, she said, “I could have.” Maybe.
“No, I’d be that good at convincing you not to stop.” His smile came with confidence and more heat. So sexy, her breath caught.
“You’re that good, huh?” The humor offered escape from the embarrassment, but the sweet tightness between her legs grew tighter. The idea of him making love to every inch of her made her dizzy.
“Really good.”
She fought the temptation to kiss him again. To seduce him into forgetting slow. “Your bacon’s gonna burn.”
“It’s not the only thing burning.” He released a deep frustrated sound, then turned back to the stove.
She smiled. It was good to know she wasn’t alone in the wanting department.
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