“I have to take a shower,” she managed.
“I have one of those, too.”
Her laugh came out husky. “This is crazy.”
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll text you my address and apartment number. Tell someone where you’re going to be.”
Oh cool. Now she extra wanted to jump him. “I was planning on it.” Her legs were shaky when she stood up from the bench, her feet taking her in the direction of the Cookie Jar. “I guess I’ll see you soon, Leo.”
Chapter 10
Leo was almost surprised when the buzzer went off in his apartment.
Had he really suggested a nap date?
Ever more unbelievable, did she actually accept?
The weirdest part of all? Inviting Reese over to sleep didn’t feel all that bizarre, considering how they’d gotten here. This whole thing between them didn’t seem to have a playbook. And Reese had that unnamed something that wiped him of any self-consciousness, allowing him to throw the odd idea out there.
Now she was going to be in his place. In his bed.
If he thought too hard about what could take place in that bed—if she asked for more than a nap—he was going to answer the door with wood.
“Jesus, pull it together,” he muttered, crossing his apartment to the intercom and hitting the buzzer to let her in downstairs. After unlocking his apartment door and leaving it open, he turned to view the space through a woman’s eyes. He hadn’t brought anyone back there for some time, and even then, there’d been no thoughts paid to the apartment’s appeal. Now, it seemed to matter quite a damn bit.
He lived in a one-bedroom in a pre-war building in Hell’s Kitchen, exposed brick making up the walls, original crown molding. Old, but kind of charming, maybe? His living room had all the basic furniture—television, coffee table. A couch big enough for a man his size to sit comfortably. But it was the kitchen where he’d paid the most attention to detail.
A metal rack hung from the ceiling above the free-range stove, spatulas, scrapers and ladles hanging down like a culinary wind chime. The apartment was rented, so he’d probably violated his lease by installing the sea glass backsplash behind the counter. There were Tupperware containers stacked everywhere, holding baked goods he tested in his spare time for their potential sale at the Cookie Jar. A window on the far wall overlooked the avenue, a fire escape affixed to the side of the building and bisecting his view. This was where he spent most of his time. Is that why his palms were sweating over her reaction?
Leo dragged a hand down his face. “You’ve got it bad.”
“What was that?” Reese asked from his doorway. “Sorry, it was open. Should I just—”
“Come in. Yeah.” He was momentarily dumbstruck by how fucking pretty she looked in the afternoon light, her hair pulled up in a ponytail, little curls springing out near her temples.
She’s exhausted.
That much was obvious. She hadn’t been lying about her bad morning.
And he’d never wanted to take care of someone so badly in his life. Reese was capable of doing that for herself, but just for this afternoon, maybe he could take some of that responsibility. No way in hell she was leaving his place without looking more rested and happy than when she walked through the door.
Leo moved toward her without a command from his brain., reaching past her to close the apartment door and lock it “Hey.” He eased the duffel bag from her shoulder, setting it on the ground. “Shower, then nap.”
He watched her mind turning things over. “Are you letting me know who’s in charge, Leo?”
“No, I’m giving you the option of letting me be in charge for a while.”
“Oh.” She wet her lips, giving him a semi. Just like that. “Then I’ll allow it.”
“Good.” His hands itched to touch her, even just to smooth the loose strands of hair back from her face, but he settled on unbuttoning her coat instead, revealing a tight, red bodysuit that made her tits look like juicy apples. Black shorts similar to the ones she’d worn yesterday clung low on her hips, those long legs stretching all the way to the floor. God. She’d been in his place one minute and his mouth was already dry as a dust. “You have a change of clothes in this bag or do you want one of my shirts?”
She considered him through her lashes. “One of your shirts, please.”
Leo nodded, turned for his bedroom, but she stopped him with a hand on his arm. Her slow touch slid up to his shoulder, her finger tracing a line down the center of his chest. “This one.”
Jesus, all of his blood was rushing south. “You want the one I’m wearing?”
“Yes.”
“Because you want to see me shirtless or because you feel vulnerable in my place and want to even the odds?”
Her mouth ticked up at one end, as if she appreciated his perceptiveness. “Both.”
Leo nodded. “All right.” He reached back, pinching the cotton material behind his neck…and he hesitated. Even though that hesitation was ridiculous. With their clothes on, it was impossible to miss the fact that they possessed vastly different body types. She was a petite dancer with tight curves. And he was a tall, thick man with some definite heft. The longer he took to remove the shirt, the deeper the thoughtful groove became between her eyebrows. Because he didn’t want her questioning his indecision, he took a deep breath and whipped off the shirt, handing it to her with a cough. “The smell on it…it’s aftershave. Not cologne.”
“Oh,” she whispered, her attention traveling from his throat to his waistband. “Th-thanks for letting me know.”
He made an inarticulate gesture at himself. “This going to work for you?”
“Hell yeah,” she breathed, looking at him like the question was insane.
His surprise was swift and—don’t smile, Leo. Don’t fucking smile.
Too late. By the time he turned toward the bathroom, a grin was stretching across his face. “You can shower in here.” God. He could even hear the smile in his voice. “Everything is in there. Left a towel on the sink.”
“Thank you.”
On her way into the bathroom, she leaned in and kissed his bare shoulder, twirling the shirt over her head a couple of times, closing the door on the sound of their mutual laughter. Unaware that she’d left his heart pounding wildly in his chest.
* * *
When Reese walked out of his bathroom ten minutes later, Leo promptly forgot about the stack of papers sitting on the coffee table. Knowing Reese wasn’t wearing a stich of clothing on the other side of the door had required a distraction, but there was no distracting him from the beautiful girl wearing his shirt, the hem brushing her knees, her dirty-blonde hair towel dried and sitting in a loose knot on the top of her head.
Watching her approach, his pulse beat low and thick in the base of his neck.
God, he wanted to fuck her. He couldn’t deny that.
There was also a developing tightness in his throat. Something about her being here in the middle of the day, essentially wearing pajamas. It called Sundays to mind. A couple doing lazy things, making no excuses for their lack of ambitions for the weekend. He liked it. He liked her being there. A lot. In his shirt and no makeup. No shoes.
If they’d been at this a little longer, he would have thrown her over his shoulder in that moment and carried her to bed, wasting no time tasting all those places she’d so recently cleaned. But while she might have given him the freedom to take charge, he didn’t have any intention of abusing that privilege. Or pushing his luck.
“Catching up on some paperwork?”
He dragged his attention from the curves of her knees, patting the cushion beside him. “These are some of the order forms for the Sweetest Fix. Jackie printed them out for me.”
Reese rounded the couch and sat down beside him, bringing a waft of shower scents and clean skin. “Ah. I forgot this was a working lunch.”
“It doesn’t have to be,” he said slowly, considering her profile. “I’m just trying not to r
ush you into my bedroom.”
Her expression was appreciative, thoughtful. “Thanks.” A beat passed. “Although, I keep thinking this nap date should feel weirder than it does.”
“Yeah.” Jesus, there went his heart again. “I know what you mean.”
They stared at each other for several moments, until her cheeks started to color and she ducked her head, smiling down at her lap. “Let’s do a few of the orders.”
“Sure.” He picked up the top sheet. “This one is from Tony, twenty-eight, construction worker. Wants the perfect cake pop for his girlfriend, Alice, twenty-five. She’s an emergency room nurse.”
“Ooh. Okay.” Reese settled into the couch cushion, rubbing her hands together. “ER nurse. To me, that’s someone who doesn’t get a lot of time for herself. When she does, she makes it count. So…something that will knock her out in one bite, like dark chocolate truffle.”
“Nice. Hard agree.” Trying and failing to temper the grin on his face, Leo made a notation on the sheet and set it aside. “Next up is Penny, requesting a Fix for her girlfriend, June, a fashion consultant who also has a successful vision board shop on Etsy. I don’t know what most of those words mean.”
“It’s a good thing I’m here,” she said, solemnly, placing a hand on his knee. A touch he felt straight up to his groin. “If she’s into fashion and visuals, she’s definitely going to post pictures on social media. Definitely something photogenic, maybe a lavender sponge? An edible flower and some shimmer?”
“Oh. Sure, I have tons of edible flowers lying around.”
Her giggle warmed him. “You can pipe it on. I’m not picky.”
He let his amusement show. “Are these for you or the customers?”
“I’m not going to lie, there is something really satisfying about blurting flavor combinations and knowing someone else is going to do all the work. This is the closest I’ll ever come to being the queen.” She put on a British accent. “You there. Lavender cake, at once. I shall be dazzled. Pip pip.”
Leo’s laugh sounded like an engine in disrepair, but it made her beam, so he guessed it couldn’t be as off-putting as it sounded to his own ears. “All right. One more.” He slipped a random order form from the middle of the stack. “Edna, seventy-one, wants a Fix for her…”
Reese leaned over, pressing their shoulders together. “What?”
“Her Chihuahua, Gregory.”
Slowly, they turned to look at each other. “What have we done?”
“Oh no, we did nothing,” Leo said. “This was your idea. Now I’m a canine pastry chef.”
She visibly suppressed a laugh. “I need more. What are Gregory’s interests?”
Even though Leo couldn’t remember the last time he’d had this much fun, he sighed, glancing back down at the form. “Influencing.” He frowned. “What the hell does that mean?”
Reese fell against the back of the couch laughing, the joyful sound fading after a moment. One of those easy silences fell and she didn’t rush to fill it, merely considering him beneath her lashes. “I was thinking about what you said on the phone. About not specializing in customer service.”
Briefly, his mind drifted back to the awkward moment in the Cookie Jar earlier that day. “Yeah?”
She hummed, turning to the side and tucking her hands beneath her cheek. “Do you think it’s because you’re overthinking your own side of the interaction?”
“Maybe.” Unnecessarily, he restacked the papers. “I have nothing to say that’s going to be interesting to them.”
A few seconds passed. “Why would you think that?”
“I don’t know.” He thought about his father giving a toast at the head of a banquet table, weaving a spell around everyone present. Having company at their house had been a common occurrence until Bernard started keeping more to himself, claiming Broadway had turned too gimmicky for his taste. “I guess I grew up leaving conversations to the expert. When I finally had something to say, it was about baking and that wasn’t interesting, either.”
“It’s interesting to me. To plenty of people.” She smiled against her hands. “Allow me to direct your attention to thirteen cable shows about cupcakes.”
Damn, he loved the way she didn’t make a huge deal out of his admission. Just quietly contradicting him in that humorously logical way she seemed to have. The way he felt about his personality couldn’t be changed. It just was. And then she comes along, says two sentences and makes him think. Makes him wonder at possibilities.
“Make it about them. Not you.” She crossed her lithe thighs, making his mouth water, but he held on to his focus. “You know. The way I made up that story for the couple in the office building? Give the customer one. It could get you out of your own head.”
“How is that going to help me converse with them?”
“You can ask them questions to help build your story. Do you live in the neighborhood? Are you coming from work? When you ask people questions about themselves, they’re going to ask you some in return. You’re more than worth their time.” Her gaze danced across his shoulders and only then did he remember he wasn’t wearing a shirt. “You’re genuine and interesting. I wouldn’t be here if you weren’t.”
He swallowed hard. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, Leo,” she murmured, sitting forward and stretching her arms up over her head. “Is it time for nap date now?”
Chapter 11
Falling asleep when she was this turned on was going to prove a challenge.
That theory grew stronger when she followed Leo into his bedroom and found a hidden pocket of paradise. The space could only be described as masculine, yes, but it was the definition of comfort. His bed? Huge. Like she could get lost in its dark cream sheets and navy comforter. The blinds were drawn, with only hints of afternoon light peeking in around the edges. Unlike the kitchen, this room was located at the back of the building, so it was quiet. As if they’d left Manhattan and been transported to a cabin in Wyoming.
And the scent.
It got into her blood and made it rush faster, the mingling aromas of aftershave and chocolate. She wanted to roll around in the source of wherever it came from.
Leo moved past her to the bed and drew back the comforter, revealing more of the cream-colored sheets. And she congratulated herself on asking him to take off his shirt. Because wow. Wow. He was thick everywhere. His arms, his torso, his fingers, his thighs. Built to move mountains or haul lumber, but he’d been called to this giving profession. One that made other people happy almost by accident—and it fit him so beautifully, this pouty man bear.
Her feelings for him were developing at an unexpected rate. Fast. This was fast. But also…right. Which was definitely scary, considering he didn’t know about her lost audition with Bexley. How she’d planned to use Leo to get another. Nor did he know she wasn’t a successfully employed Broadway dancer, she was merely one of thousands of hopefuls, her deadline clock ticking ominously in the back of her mind. The hole she’d dug had reached her neck, but no amount of guilt or dread could force her into ruining these perfect moments with him.
She’d resolved to tell him everything as soon as she got hired. As soon as there was no question about her intentions. But after this morning’s disastrous audition, that reality seemed further out of reach than before. Another reality moving further out of reach? One where she and Leo weren’t compatible and didn’t want to see each other again. With every passing moment, that didn’t merely seem unlikely. More like impossible.
How long was she expecting to drag out this pretense?
What if she never got hired?
Banishing the troubling thoughts from her mind for later, Reese followed Leo to the bed, slowing to a stop in front of him. Because nothing between them ever seemed to feel awkward, she gave in to the impulse to lean in and smell the hair-dappled skin between his pectoral muscles. “Are you going to get comfortable?” she asked, easing back to nod at his jeans, complete with belt buckle.
“Comfo
rtable might be a stretch,” he rasped, his mouth resting on her temple.
His chest was so warm, she couldn’t help leaning against it, absorbing the heat. “It doesn’t seem fair that I’m the only one who gets to be without pants on this nap date.”
For once, she had no idea where a situation was heading.
Were they really going to nap?
Were they going to have sex?
No clue. Everything between them moved in an addictively organic fashion and this moment before they climbed into bed together was no different. There was no mistaking his hard-on. It curved the fly of his jeans, straining the button. She was sorely tempted to reach down and pop the button, lower the zipper, slide her hand inside the denim and memorize his response to her first stroke, but there was something more unique to them in the pauses. The lack of rush. The letting things happen.
So Reese boosted herself onto the bed and waited, cool silence surrounding them.
Leo watched her in that serious way, his hands eventually moving to his belt, unbuckling and letting the leather sides sag within their loops, unbuttoning next and pulling down the zipper. Her mouth opened on an involuntary puff of breath over the way his shaft swelled into the opening, hugged tightly in the black cotton of his briefs.
Boxer briefs, she amended, when he pushed down the jeans and stepped out, kicking them aside. Neither one of them moved right away, simply taking each other in, Leo’s gaze tracing the lines of her dangling legs, her attention mostly riveted by his hands. The way they flexed, but made no move to touch her, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Finally, he circled around to the other side of the bed and climbed in under the covers, the weight of his attention resting on her spine.
Tingling with more awareness she ever knew was possible, Reese swung her legs up onto the bed, tucking them into the cool, smooth sheets and fluffy comforter, inwardly moaning over the comfort of this bed compared to the beanbag chair she’d been sleeping on. She rolled onto her back and looked at Leo, finding him watching her in the near darkness, and they just kind of gravitated in one another’s direction, the way they always seemed to do.
The Sweetest Fix Page 8