Сьюзен Мэллери – Not Strictly Business!: Prodigal Son / The Boss and Miss Baxter / The Baby Deal (страница 19)

She sighed. “I am, aren’t I? Soon I’ll be really good. Then I’ll have my license.”

“Then you can buy a car.”

“Oh. Wow.” She’d never thought in actual terms of getting a car. “I like it. There are so many kinds. I could get a little convertible.”

“Not a great choice in winter.”

“Hmm. You’re right. But maybe something sporty. Or an SUV. Then I could haul stuff on weekends.”

“Do you have anything to haul?”

“I don’t think so. Is it required?”

“The dealer isn’t going to ask.”

“Okay. Or maybe I could get a hybrid. That’s more environmentally friendly and I always recycle.”

He looked at her as if she’d suddenly grown horns.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing. You about ready?”

She eyed the strawberries, then nodded. “I’m always tempted by out-of-season fruit. It’s a thing with me.”

He pointed to her overflowing basket. “You know, this store delivers.”

“I heard, but I like to buy my own groceries. Check stuff out. What if I change my mind about what I want for dinner?”

“What? You don’t carefully plan a menu for the entire week and then stick with it?” he asked.

She felt her eyes widen a split second before she realized he was teasing her. “No, I don’t. But you rigid types plan everything.”

“I’ve had a few surprises lately.”

She was sure he was talking about the company, but she suddenly wished he were talking about the kiss they’d shared. That had been … nice.

She’d enjoyed knowing that her nerve endings hadn’t died in the divorce and that, yes, eventually she would want to be with another man. Although she had a feeling that her powerful sexual reaction had specifically been about Jack, there was still hope for her future. Eventually she would find someone else to be interested in.

They went through the checkout, then Jack helped her load her bags of groceries into the trunk.

“Let’s go,” he said, opening the passenger door.

She stood on the sidewalk. “Wait. I can’t drive back to our building.”

“Why not? It’s just around the corner.”

“Yes, but once there, I’d have to park. I might even have to back up.” She wasn’t ready for backing up. Not on her first day.

“You can do it,” he said and closed the door.

She glared at him for a full minute, but he didn’t budge. That forced her to get behind the wheel and consider her options.

“I could just walk home,” she said.

“What about your groceries?”

“You could carry some.”

“But I won’t.”

He might not have screamed during their lessons, but he was very stubborn.

“Fine. I’ll drive back, but if anything bad happens, you have to take over. And I’m seriously reconsidering the dinner I promised as a thank you.”

“You don’t have to do that. I was happy to help.”

She looked at him. His eyes were dark and she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Maybe he didn’t want to have dinner with her. After the way she’d overreacted to his kiss, who could blame him.

“I’d like to cook you dinner,” she said. “But I’ll understand if you don’t want to come over.”

“We’re friends, right?”

She nodded.

“Then sure. I’ll be there.”

Friends. The way he said the word made her wonder if the statement had been to help him remember their relationship, or if it had been about telling her. Maybe he was making it clear that where she was concerned, he’d made his last move.

Jack arrived at Samantha’s apartment exactly at seven. He’d brought Charlie, even though the dog was tired from his day and would only sleep. Still, if conversation got slow, they could always talk about the dog.

Pathetic, he told himself. He was completely pathetic. Yeah, he wanted to do the right thing where Samantha was concerned. Be a friend, a boss and let the rest of it go. But no matter what he told himself or how many times she rejected him, he couldn’t seem to stop wanting her. Even now, standing outside of her door, he felt his body tighten in anticipation.

He knocked and promised himself that when he got home, he was going to figure out a way to get over her for good. But until then, a man could dream.

“You’re here,” she said as she opened the door and smiled at him.

“Was there any doubt?” he asked.

“I hoped there wasn’t. Come on in.”

He let Charlie lead the way, using the microsecond before he entered to brace himself to withstand the assault of color, gauzy fabric and perfume.

She’d changed out of her jeans and sweatshirt—both covered in sewn-on flowers—and into a loose top and flowing skirt that nearly touched the top of her bare feet. She was a kaleidoscope of color, causing him not to know where to look first.

There was her hair, long and flowing and curly, but pinned up on one side. Her blouse that fell off one shoulder, exposing pale, creamy skin. Her feet with painted toes and at least two toe rings. Her arms, bare except for jingling bracelets.

“So you’re back,” he said.

She closed the door behind him. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been a little conservative since you moved here. Oh sure, you’ve been playing basketball in the halls and wearing bright colors, but not in the way I remember. This is the first time you’re exactly like you were.”

She smiled. “That’s about the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Come on,” she said, grabbing him by the arm and tugging him toward the kitchen. “I have wine and I’m going to let you be all macho and open it.”

“It’s what I live for.”

They settled in the dining room with a bottle of wine and some appetizers. Charlie retreated to an ottoman where he curled up on the cushy surface and quickly went to sleep.

“I can get him down if you want,” Jack said, jerking his head toward the dog. “He’s great, but he sheds.”

“No problem. A few dog hairs will make the condo seem more lived in. Right now it’s still too perfect.”

“And we wouldn’t want that.”

She dipped a chicken wing into spicy sauce. “Life’s beauty is found in the irregular and unexpected. Ever see a perfect waterfall? A symmetrical sunset?”

“Technically the sun goes down in the same way every—” He broke off and grinned when she swatted him with the back of her hand.

“You know what I mean,” she said. “I’m talking about the clouds, the colors and you know it.”

“Maybe.”

“My point is, dog hair is fine.”