Perfect for You (18 page)

"We won't?"

"No. Tonight we'll get to know each other. We'll drink wine and talk. I want to learn you, and then I'll hold you while you sleep. But no sex."

"What if I want it?"

"No." He shook his head firmly.

"Why not?"

"Because this isn't to be rushed."

Her heart swelled. One day she'd look back and remember this moment, with her sitting on his counter and him standing over a sizzling pan. And she'd remember how this was the moment she was absolutely sure she was in love with him.

It was exciting.

And scary.

She felt vulnerable. She'd never let herself fall for anyone before. But Max was different. More than the sexual attraction, which was definitely there, Max wanted to uncover her. No one had ever cared about her like that.

She'd never wanted anyone to uncover her before. But she was willing to let him strip her layers all the way down to her gooey center.

She trusted him.

But he didn't need to know she loved him—not yet. There
was
such a thing as too much honesty.So she focused on the moment. The aroma of whatever he was making filled the room, savory and mouth-watering. "It smells delicious."

"It's simple but you'll like this very much." He nodded confidently and tossed a dash of something into the sizzling pan. He got two plates down from the cupboard and served the food. "Come."

Grabbing the glasses and the wine bottle, she followed him to the dining room. Instead of turning on the chandelier overhead he lit several candles around the room, enveloping them in a warm glow. He nodded to a chair. "Sit. Eat."

She sat and dug in, happy when he scooted his seat closer to hers. The first bite didn't register but she gasped with the second. When she finished chewing, she said, "This steak is amazing."

Max nodded, drinking slowly as he watched her, a smile on his lips.

Anna tried not to eat like a pig but she couldn't help it. The steak melted in her mouth, and the sauce tasted rich, and the vegetables were buttery but crisp. She practically inhaled her food and then eyed his.

He pushed his plate over without a word.

"Are you sure?" she asked, already cutting into the meat.

"This is better for me, watching you enjoy it so much."

"It's frickin' delicious." On impulse, she grabbed his shirt and pulled him close for a smacking kiss. "Thank you."

He brushed her face with the back on his hand. "So tell me about your day, Anna."

She stilled, remembering. She picked up her glass and gulped a mouthful of wine.

The corner of his mouth kicked up. "That bad?"

"No, that good." Taking a deep breath, she spilled it. "I found out I was accepted into law school today."

His smile grew slowly, wide and proud. "Congratulations."

She nodded glumly. "Thanks."

Confusion overrode his delight. "You don't want to go to law school?"

"I do. I do a lot." She drooped in her seat. "My sister isn't going to like it."

"You haven't told her."

"No. She
hates
lawyers." She shuddered, pushing the plate away. "I'm hoping she'll hook up with Greg, who's a lawyer, by the way, and that'll soften her up."

Max studied her. "You love your sister."

"So much."

"Then tell her. You wouldn't love someone who wasn't worthy of it. She'll understand it's important to you."

Anna shook her head. "You don't understand. Our parents died and the lawyers took all our money. I'm only in college because Freya gave up everything to put me through school."

"It doesn't seem as though she suffered."

She stared at him.

He shrugged. "She lives here, she seems happy, and she can pay for your school? She's very successful. And if she loves you, she'll want you to be happy."

"Not if it means law school."

"Yes, even then, if you tell her how much you want it." He touched her face, his gaze solemn. "She won't want to see you unhappy. I barely know you, and I wouldn't be able to bear it. I can only imagine what it'd do to her."

She worried her lip. "You think so?"

"Yes, I definitely wouldn't be able to bear your sadness."

Bursting out in laughter, she pushed his shoulder. Then she pulled him close and kissed him. Only it wasn't close enough, so she straddled his lap and wrapped herself around him.

Heaven.

She wiggled closer, weaving her fingers into his hair. She sighed as he kneaded her back, holding her close.

"Delicious," he murmured against her mouth. "Come into the living room with me, Anna? Tell me why law, and I'll tell you how my mama taught me about food."

"Yes," she said, to all of it.

Freya ran her hands down Greg's rib cage, her thumbs pressing into his corrugated abs. "You have the most magnificent chest I've ever seen."

Eyes still closed, luxuriating in the lazy Sunday morning, he smiled. "You've seen a lot of chests?"

"Ever been to Dolores Park on a sunny day?" She ran a finger over the thin line that arrowed down to what she was coming to believe was constant hardness.

He sighed in pleasure, letting her explore.

"How did you get this?" She traced the tan line at his waist.

"Running."

"You run without a shirt on?"

"Sometimes."

"Nice visual."

"Is it inspiring?" He reached around her waist and rolled her on top of him. His hands slid up her back, holding her close and nuzzling her neck.

"You're inspiring." She hummed contentedly and slipped a leg between his to get closer.

Which was crazy—she should have been over it by now. She'd been here with him since Friday night and they'd hardly left the bedroom.

She might have been able to convince herself that it was for research—for the good of her career and her muse—but at some point she'd completely forgotten about her muse, the redesign, and using Greg. The only thing on her mind was
him
. His scent, his taste, the sound of his voice.

The buoyant feel of happiness just lying with him and listening to him talk to her.

Disconcerting, that. She wasn't sure what to make of it, so whenever she started to get worried she pushed the thoughts away. She'd deal with the fallout later—after her meeting with Charles and Sin City.

One week away.

For now, she was going to enjoy this. All of it—the intimacy and sexual. Good thing it was Sunday and she didn't have to go to work.

Sunday!

She checked the digital clock on the nightstand. "Aw hell."

Greg looked to see what had upset her. "What is it?"

"I'm supposed to have brunch with Eve in exactly—" she glanced at the clock again —"twenty-four minutes." She slid off his body to the floor. On her knees, she gathered her clothes.

Greg rolled onto his side and propped himself up on one elbow. "I like this view."

She searched under the bed. "Have you seen my underwear?"

"Yes, definitely. The sight of you in the black and pink pair it is permanently engraved in my mind."

"No, I mean do you know where they are? I'm sure you tossed them right here."

"I added them to my collection when you were asleep."

Rolling her eyes, she got up. Forget the panties—she'd find them later. She yanked her clothes on and, pushing her hair over a shoulder, leaned down to softly kiss his face. "Are you busy later?"

He tangled his hand into her hair. "Yes."

Her stomach sank in disappointment and she felt her lips pout of their own accord. "You are?" she asked, trying to sound casual.

He pulled her down and kissed her. "I'm having dinner with this hot redhead I know. She's tall and sexy and has the most intriguing little mole on the inside of her right thigh."

"I do not."

"You should check. Right now."

She laughed and quickly kissed him again. "I see your ploy, to get me undressed again. Try it again later."

Hopping off the bed, she hurried out, grabbing her coat and purse. She added her shoes to the pile under her arm, not bothering to put them on since she was going to just take them off again when she got into her flat.

On the porch, she juggled her stuff around so she could get to her keys in her purse, and then rejuggled everything so she could unlock the door. She jiggled the key in the lock, but she didn't have an extra hand to pull on it at the same time—a key step in opening her arthritic door. She cursed under her breath and tried to reach the doorknob with her shoe-holding hand.

"Need help?" Eve said, coming up the porch steps.

"Thank God!" Freya thrust her belongings at her. "Aren't you early?"

"I was hungry."

"Come in. I have to take a shower, but I'll be quick." She dashed up the stairs ahead of Eve and ran into the bathroom. She turned the shower on, stripped, and stepped into the hot stream.

It felt wonderful. Her muscles were sex sore—they hadn't been so worked out in, well, ever. She would have given anything for a long bath. Maybe later. Perhaps she could even convince Greg to scrub her back.

Wrapping a towel around her hair and another around her body, she quickly dressed and, taking her shoes, went into the living room.

"That was quick," Eve said, looking up from a magazine.

"I didn't want to keep you waiting. Besides, I'm starving too." She twisted her still sopping hair onto her head and secured it with a pencil that was lying on her coffee table.

"Come on then." She stood, dropping the magazine on the table. "You can tell me why you were sneaking into your flat half-dressed over our first mimosa."

Freya couldn't stop the grin that spread ear-to-ear. "It's a good story."

"I bet. Does it have visuals?"

"It will," she said, thinking about the mockups she'd put together so far. She had an idea for one more, and then she should be set.

"Oh boy." Eve rubbed her hands together. "Elite CafŽ?"

"Let's go."

Eve waited until they were seated and had their drinks ordered to before she crossed her arms and said, "Okay, I want details. Many, many details. Who were you with?"

"You won't believe it."

"Your hot upstairs neighbor," Eve said instantly. "I
knew
it. Of course it didn't take a genius to figure it out, not after seeing you guys cavorting on the floor in your office. So how was it?"

Freya couldn't help it—another big grin split her face.

Eve's eyes widened. She sat back and whistled. "That good, huh?"

"Better."

The waiter returned with their drinks.

"Good." Eve took a big sip. "Okay, I'm ready for the whole story. Start with the part where you realized he was hot and wanted to jump him."

"Actually, we struck a deal. I'm using him to get my muse back, and he's trying to convince me that I should stay with him."

"Is he luring your muse back?"

"Better than anything else I've tried."

"Sex does that for you." Eve gave her an enquiring look. "Assuming the sex is good."

"Let me put it this way, Greg surpasses Coit Tower in phallic status, and if there had been an earthquake anytime while I was with him, I wouldn't have known the difference, he rocked my world so hard."

"Wow. Does he have a brother?"

"Sorry." She took a sip of her mimosa, thinking. "He's not how I thought he'd be."

"I think you actually like him." She leaned in and whispered, "I think maybe you're even in love with him."

"
No.
" Freya shook her head vehemently. "He's a lawyer."

"He's a lawyer you're sleeping with," Eve pointed out. "The fact that he's gotten that far is telling, don't you think?"

"What? Are you saying next it's wedding bells and the pitter-patter of little feet?" At her friend's raised brow, Freya shook her head again. "No way. We're just doing it to help me get my sexy back for Sin City. That's all this is."

"So you're saying after next week when you present your designs, you're going to break it off with him."

That stopped her cold. She hadn't thought about not going out with him any longer.

Eve smiled knowingly. "I rest my case."

"There's no case here," she said, adamant. "I just haven't thought that far ahead. I still have a week and one more design to finish."

"Well, you better think about it, because your week will be up sooner than you think, and then you'll need to decide what to do. You don't want to lead him on."

She sat straight up. "I've been honest and upfront with him."

"I'm not saying you haven't been, but you can't deny that if you keep having sex with him after your deadline he's going to think that you're in it for him." Eve regarded her steadily, tucking her hair behind her ear. "And you just said you aren't."

"I'm not." But she heard the doubt in her own voice.

Anna rang Max's doorbell and peered into his apartment again. Dark. He obviously wasn't home.

Bouncing to keep warm, she checked the time. She was supposed to meet him at eight, and it was just a little before. He was probably held up at the restaurant. She'd just have to be patient.

Hard, because she couldn't wait to see him.

She grinned wide, thinking about their last date. It'd been so different than she'd expected. She
had
spent the night, but they'd stayed in the living room, lying on the floor and talking late into the night. He'd built a fire, and they'd cuddled and kissed—a lot. And then they'd fallen asleep in a nest of blankets they'd made.

It'd been the best night ever.

She hadn't seen him since, because of their schedules, but they'd talked every day.

Tonight they were actually going out. Dinner at his friend's restaurant and then dancing. She'd borrowed a dress from one of her girlfriends, a short red thing with a flirty skirt that floated when she twirled. He wouldn't be able to keep his hands off her.

Not that she thought they were going to get freaky. Just the opposite, in fact. He'd made it clear that they weren't going to have sex until they knew each other, because sex was easy and he liked her. She was down for it, but that didn't mean she had to make it easy for him.