by Cassie Cross
“He’s like my brother, but marginally less of a pain in the ass than Ben is,” she says, laughing.
“Ben seems like a good guy.” There aren’t many people who would race to make the kind of machine he made for me on a few days’ notice.
“He is,” Felicity says, moving on to the next dress. She looks at the fabric thoughtfully, biting her lip in deep concentration. “It’s funny, Ben had a tendency to be a little…let’s call it fickle, when it came to his personal relationships. Caleb, he had a history of keeping people at arm’s length. I’m glad he decided to be different with you.”
With everything that’s still unknown between Caleb and me, it’s nice to know that my presence in his life has made a noticeable difference to the people who know and love him.
“I’m glad he decided to be different with me, too,” I reply with a smile.
Felicity’s phone buzzes. She pulls it out of her purse, and starts typing furiously. “I’m sorry, I know this is rude, but I’ve got an assignment due on Friday, and my partners and I have been trying to schedule time to get together to work on it.”
I’m sure my mouth drops open in surprise, because I assumed she was out of college already, even though I hadn’t ever asked.
“Don’t look so surprised,” she says, grinning.
“I…you just seem so…together. Not that college students aren’t together—I didn’t mean that at all—but you have your own business and all of these connections. I wouldn’t have ever thought you were still in school.”
Felicity laughs as she puts her phone back in her pocket. “I understand. Doing what I do requires a good eye and some taste, but you don’t need a degree for it. My career choice has been a bone of contention between my father and me, and I’m getting my degree to prove that I’m serious. I’m learning more about the business side of things so I can expand and grow. I’m going to be a brand someday.”
I grin at her. “Good for you. I think you’ll be amazing at it, if today is any indication.”
“It’s such a spoiled little rich girl thing, you know? A personal shopper? Getting paid to buy things? I mean, it even makes me want to roll my eyes. I’m pretty sure I’ll never hear the end of it from my family, but I don’t want to be a joke. Not with them, not with anyone.”
“I don’t think anything about this is a joke,” I tell her.
“You know that old adage, ‘do what you love, and you’ll never work a day in your life?’?”
I nod. That’s why I got into software development. I love it, and it doesn’t ever feel like work. Earning a living doing what you love is the greatest gift a person can give themselves. I know not everyone is lucky enough to be able to do that, but I’m glad that Felicity is able to.
“I love doing this. I have a knack for it, and people want to work with me. Styling people, searching for the right outfit for an occasion, I don’t know…I know it’s frivolous, but it makes me want…more.”
“It’s not frivolous to the people who hire you,” I tell her.
“Yeah,” she replies with a smile. “That’s true. My dad thinks that sitting at a desk and cultivating a family legacy is the only way a person’s professional life has any worth. But I’m going to cultivate my own legacy.”
“I have no doubt that you will.”
Felicity sighs, like some great burden is off her chest, and I get the feeling that she doesn’t have very many people to talk to. I’m glad I could be that person today.
“Enough about me,” she says, as she reaches forward and pulls a black gown off of its rack. “What do you think about this?”
The dress is almost too beautiful to touch, but I do it anyway. It’s sleek with a flowing skirt, and a halter top with a neckline that scoops low enough to be revealing without revealing too much. The back is almost nonexistent, but still somehow manages to be tasteful. It’s a dress that I wouldn’t have picked out for myself in a million years, but it’s gorgeous. I haven’t even tried it on yet, and I want it.
“I think it’s beautiful,” I admit. “But I don’t have any occasion to wear it.” This is a special event dress, not something you throw on to go out to dinner.
“Well, you’ll be happy to know that Caleb specifically requested that I pick out something just like this for you.” She puts her hand on my shoulder, holds out the dress, and leads me toward the dressing area.
“What for?” I ask.
Felicity shrugs. “No idea, but we’re shopping on his dime, so I do what I’m asked. Today I’m just a consultant, and the hired help, so if he wants me to buy a dress, we’re buying a dress.”
Far be it from me to turn down an offer like that.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Looks like you had fun today,” Caleb says, with an amused glint in his eyes as they roam over the piles of bags that Sam brought up from the car.
I feel self-conscious and embarrassed all of a sudden, and I can’t really put my finger on why. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I’m just now getting a good look at everything I brought home with me, and Caleb’s the one who footed the bill. Maybe this wasn’t what he was expecting? I think it’s too much, but Felicity had insisted. Maybe Caleb thinks it’s too much, too?
“I did have fun, although I think Felicity went a little overboard.”
Caleb leans in, and kisses me softly. “I asked her to spoil you, so I think she’s still on the ship.”
When he looks over at Sam, Sam gives him a little nod. I have to admit that I find the fact that the two of them can have a whole conversation without saying a single word a little unnerving.
“The security wasn’t so terrible, was it?”
“Not so terrible,” I say, giving Sam a teasing smile. “He was a good sport about letting us stop for ice cream.”
“I’ll always let you stop for ice cream.”
I step forward, and shake Sam’s hand. “It was a pleasure. I apologize for complaining about it at first.”
Sam is about to say something, but Caleb cuts him off, giving me a sharp look. “Don’t worry. You’ll have more time to get used to each other.”
Somehow I knew that this wasn’t going to be the only time I was going to have Sam’s company, but I’m not going to fight Caleb on it.
“Will that be all, Sir?” Sam asks Caleb.
Caleb nods.
“It was nice to meet you, Sam.”
“You too, ma’am.”
I let out a long-suffering sigh. “I see we’re back to this ma’am business. I’m going to break you at some point.”
Sam grins at me. “I look forward to it.”
Once Sam is out the front door, I turn to Caleb, who is pulling on his tie. “You’re not very friendly with him.”
He looks at me as if I’ve just said the most absurd thing he’s ever heard. “I pay him to make sure that nothing bad happens to you, Mia. I don’t have to be nice to him for that.”
I furrow my brow, and Caleb’s expression softens. “It would be nice if you could be nice, that’s all I’m saying.”
“That’s not the way I do business, Mia.”
“I’m not telling you how to do business, Caleb,” I reply. “It’s just an observation, that’s all.”
He takes a deep breath, then unbuttons his cufflinks and starts rolling up his sleeves. “Noted. You had fun today?”
“Yes!” I reply, nodding. “I like Felicity a lot.”
Caleb grins fondly. “Me too.”
“I’m glad that you set up our little clothing expedition. I’ve never really enjoyed shopping, until today.”
“And it looks like you were successful,” he says, pointing at the mountain of bags.
“We were.” I take a step forward, stretch on my tip toes, and kiss him. “Thank you. That doesn’t seem like enough, but…thank you. I didn’t know how much I needed a day out.” A safe day out, is what I really mean. Even though I fought Caleb over sending Sam along with us, I’m glad he was there. He allowed me to enjoy myself
out in public in a way that I haven’t since I left Chicago.
“You don’t have to thank me,” Caleb replies. “But if you really want to do something nice, have dinner with me.”
“That sounds like it’ll be nice for me, too.”
He takes my hand, and plants a kiss across my knuckles. “Here’s hoping.”
* * * * *
When Caleb asked me if I would have dinner with him, I assumed he wanted me to put on one of my new dresses, and join him at some restaurant that had a months-long waiting list, where he’d be able to walk right up to the hostess and get a table. I was not expecting him to take my hand, lead me into the kitchen, and pull out one of the barstools. I definitely wasn’t expecting him to open the fridge and start pulling out ingredients.
“What’s going on here?” I ask, mostly teasing, but still kind of confused.
Caleb gives me a mischievous grin. “I’m making you dinner.”
“That’s why you rolled up your sleeves?” I say, as I pour two glasses of wine.
“Mmm-hmm. I mean business.”
“Here I thought you were trying to turn me on.”
Caleb laughs as he walks to the other side of the kitchen. “There is no trying as far as that’s concerned.” He winks before he disappears into the pantry, the smug bastard.
When Caleb comes out, he puts the items that he’s carrying down onto the countertop, one by one. He looks at me, gauging my reaction to the weirdest group of ingredients I’ve ever seen in my life.
“You’re using bread, hazelnut spread, apples, and…what is that? Cheddar? Is that all…going together?”
“This is freshly baked bread, I’ll have you know.”
“Baked by whom?” Surely Caleb did not bake this bread himself.
“By a lovely woman who mans the oven at one of the best bakeries on the Upper West Side. I bought the cheddar this afternoon from the cheesemonger, and the hazelnut spread came from a gourmet shop down the street.”
“Ooooh,” I say, trying to sound impressed and not as grossed out as I feel looking at the ingredients for what is sure to be an interesting dinner. “What about the apples?”
Caleb shrugs. “I have no idea where those came from.”
“And you’re going to let them taint this gourmet concoction that you’re gonna cook up?” It’s a last-ditch effort at goading him into not making whatever it is that he’s about to make. “Are you sure you don’t want to go to an orchard in Connecticut? Pick some fresh, organic apples?”
A slow smile blooms on his lips, and for a second I think I might be successful here, but then he pulls out a cutting board and knife. “Nope, these will do just fine.”
Okay, so, there’s no getting out of this. I’m looking forward to watching Caleb make whatever it is he’s about to make, I’m not so sure about eating it.
“Do you have an apron, or are you just going to risk getting that nice shirt dirty.”
“I’ll have you know that I do have an apron,” he says, teasing. “Well, I did have one. Felicity gave it to me as a joke.”
“What was the joke?”
“That I don’t know how to cook. The apron caught on fire when I leaned over a burner once.”
I stifle my laugh with the back of my hand. “Yeah, that’s generally not a good idea.”
“Unfortunately I found that out the hard way.”
“You know, telling me you’re a bad cook isn’t doing much to inspire confidence in this particular meal. Especially not with the ingredient list.”
“I may not be a good cook, but this? This is my specialty,” he says, opening the loaf of bread. He pulls a bread knife out of a drawer and begins slicing it. “And you’re gonna love it.”
“How, exactly, did a terrible cook like you get a specialty?” I ask, sliding his glass of wine across the island, so it sits in front of him.
He puts four slides of bread to the side, and finds a smaller knife in the drawer beside him. He cuts a few small slices into one of the apples, and says, “My mom used to make it for me. It was the only thing she knew how to cook herself.” There’s a wistful smile on his face, and it makes my heart ache. Even if Felicity hadn’t let the information about his parents slip earlier, I would’ve known there was a painful story behind this dinner. “Our cook taught me when I was a teenager. I don’t make it very often, but…” he shrugs, and I know that’s as far as the story is going to go tonight.
I could very easily look up information about Caleb’s family on the internet. Once I found out his last name, I discovered some cursory things, but I didn’t go digging very far. I figure he was at a distinct disadvantage between the two of us. Since Caleb is rich and has put together some fairly lucrative business deals, it isn’t hard to get the scoop on his past and his life. I’m not so easy to find on the internet, so I figured I’d level the playing filed by not looking up anything about him. Whatever I know about him is going to come from him (or, after this afternoon, his friends). No cheating.
“I’m sure I’ll love it,” I tell him. And I’m not even placating him this time. “So, what exactly is this sandwich?”
He spreads butter on the bread he’s sliced. “It’s hazelnut spread, cheddar, and sliced apples. Kind of like an exotic grilled cheese.”
The thought of it isn’t exactly appealing, but I’m gonna give it a try.
“My mom’s specialty was club crackers and fake cheese,” I tell him with a smile. “I’ll save you from that one.”
Caleb arches his brow. “Fake cheese?”
“Yeah,” I tell him, sliding my finger along the edge of the stem of my wine glass. “Processed cheese? Fake? The kind that’s really orange and delicious?”
“I’m not familiar with it.”
“Oh, well…Maybe I won’t save you from that one after all. It’s not a dinner, more like a snack.”
“I’d love to try it,” he says, grinning at me.
“You might wish you hadn’t felt that way after you do,” I reply, laughing.
Caleb turns and opens a few cabinet doors, looking for a pan, maybe. I find it funny that the man has no idea how to cook, yet spent who knows how much money on remodeling this place with top-of-the-line appliances, and the nicest cabinets and countertops I’ve ever seen in person. I know there’s a certain mindset that makes you want the best when you can afford it, but it amuses me that he doesn’t even know where his pans are. Pans that I’m sure are top-of-the-line, too.
Him cooking for me is a sweet gesture, made sweeter by the fact that he’s making something for me that reminds him of his mother. I’d take something intimate and personal like this over a thousand fancy dinners, and it occurs to me that I should probably make something for him some day soon. Considering I actually know how to use all this mind-blowingly amazing equipment. I make a mental note to find out what some of his favorite foods are; maybe I’ll surprise him one night when I know he’s had a long day at the office.
Caleb finally finds the pan he was looking for, and I watch him as he carefully assembles the sandwiches, a small smile on his face all the while. I get a pretty nice view when he turns his back to me to put the sandwiches in the pan, and I lean back in my chair and enjoy the view while I sip on the rest of my glass of wine.
Once the sandwiches are cooked, he takes the time to plate them neatly. I have to admit, these smell pretty good. They look pretty good, too.
He puts a handful of chips on one plate, and then the other. “These are homemade,” he tells me proudly.
“In whose home?” I tease.
He reaches over and takes the chips off of my plate and heaps them on to his.
“Hey!” I reply, reaching over and snagging one before he can pull his plate away.
“Make fun of the cook, and this is what you get!”
He’s grinning as he walks around the island and takes his seat next to me.
“Okay,” he says, rubbing his hands together. “Tell me what you think.”
I take a bite. I
have to smile, because as weird as I thought it would be, this sandwich? It’s amazing.
“Good?” he asks, practically sitting on the edge of his seat, waiting for my reaction.
“Delicious,” I tell him honestly.
“Yeah?”
I nod enthusiastically. “Yeah.”
He turns in his chair, ready to eat, and I can see that he’s just so pleased. Happiness is radiating off of him, and I think it’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.
“Hey,” I say, sliding my hand up his shoulder.
When I lean over and kiss him, he smiles against my lips.
“Thank you for sharing this with me.” The sandwich, the story behind it. Everything.
He cups my cheek and says, “You’re welcome.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
When it’s dark outside, and I’m in Caleb’s bed, lying in his arms, it’s easy to forget about everything that exists outside of the walls of this apartment. It’s difficult not to get lost in him, in the way he makes me feel when he touches me, the hot brand of his lips against my skin. Even when we’re apart, I remember the way the soft scratch of his chin feels against the crook of my neck when he nuzzles in and kisses me there.
I think about the way it feels when Caleb holds me, when he cradles me against his body. To say that I’m missing him right now is an understatement. Sure, he’s right here but my whole body is aching for him. We haven’t had sex since before I was robbed, and I miss the weight of him on top of me. I miss the way my thigh muscles stretch when I’m straddling him. I miss the feeling of him inside me, and the way his body stiffens and his face goes slack as he calls out my name when he comes.
To say I’m desperate for him would be putting it mildly.
That’s why I’m kissing my way along his chest, licking his abs, and nibbling on his skin. My hands are everywhere, and Caleb has—thankfully—not turned me down yet, although there’s this niggling fear in the back of my mind that he’s going to do that the very second I give him a chance to come to his senses. Good thing I don’t plan on giving him that kind of chance.