Perfect on Paper (40 page)

...

The closer we got to his house, the more nervous I got.

Don’t flip out.

We walked in silence to the front door, which once again he held open for me. He helped me with my coat, then removed his own and hung both on the rack in the foyer.

“You have really good manners. Has anyone ever told you that?”

He smiled. “A few people.”

“Thanks again for dinner. I had a really nice time.”

“It was my pleasure.”

We stood in silence for a moment. Then he took a step toward me, and I could feel myself starting to sweat. When he reached me, he put his hands on my face and leaned down to kiss me softly on the lips. Once again, I was entranced by his scent. I kissed him back, and he moved his hands to my lower back.

Then, very slowly, he stepped toward his bedroom, pulling me with him.

“Come with me,” he said softly.

I followed him to his room, and ten seconds later our shoes were off, along with his sweater and shirt. He took my hand and led me toward the bed. When we reached the edge, he cupped my face with his hands, then gently brushed his lips against mine. His kiss was soft and warm, and this time I could feel its effects not just in my legs, but all the way through to my toes.

Still kissing me, he moved his hands from my cheeks downward, his fingers softly dancing over my shoulders and arms until they reached my waist. He paused for a moment, then slid both hands under my shirt. His warm touch made me catch my breath.

“You okay?” he said, softly kissing my neck.

“Mm.” This time, I was more than okay.

He kept one hand on my stomach and moved the other briefly upward to tug on the lace of my bra. He kissed me on the lips and quietly pulled my shirt over my head and tossed it to one side, pulling away from me only enough to let the fabric slide between us. He cupped my face again and deepened our kiss, his tongue intertwining with mine. I could feel my heart beat faster, wondering what he’d do next.

“Still good?” he whispered.

“Still good,” I whispered back.

He slid one hand behind me to unhook my bra, then let that hand rest on the small of my back while moving the other in front to touch my breasts, all without breaking our kiss. I caught my breath again, and his body responded and pushed against me. His mouth covering mine, he slowly guided me backward against the bed. I could feel my feet coming off the ground, but he was supporting the weight of my body with his strong arms, so I didn’t feel like I was falling. Before I knew it, I was lying on my back.

He perched himself above me on his elbows, breathing heavily when we finally came up for air.

“Nice moves, did you learn those at basketball camp?”

He laughed and kissed my neck. “You’re beautiful.”

“So are you.”

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

I smiled.

“You sure?”

“I’m sure. And Jake?”

“Yeah?”

“You might want to move my suitcase from the guest bedroom.”

He laughed and kissed my neck again, then slowly moved one hand to the button of my jeans.

...

When I woke up the next morning, for about three seconds I forgot where I was. I opened my eyes and studied the unfamiliar ceiling.

Why am I on the wrong side of the bed?

Then I remembered.

I’m in Atlanta.

With Jake.

I turned my head to the right. He was lying on his back beside me, his bare chest gently rising and falling with each breath.

I sighed and smiled.

Even asleep, he’s gorgeous. And he doesn’t even snore.

I wondered how long I could stare at him without crossing the line between cute and creepy. After a few minutes I figured I
was getting close, so I decided to get up and make coffee. I carefully slipped out of bed and tiptoed toward the guestroom. When I reached the door I glanced back at him for a moment, then set off to find my suitcase—and the pajamas I hadn’t yet worn.

Jake’s kitchen was airy and bright, with stainless steel appliances that looked brand new. I found the coffee in the freezer, then opened the cabinets as quietly as I could in search of the filters. As I filled the pot with water, I glanced out the window to the backyard. Gold and red leaves swirled in the air around a big oak tree. It looked cold outside.

Waiting for the coffee to brew, I wandered into the living room and plopped down on the couch, surprised that I was awake so early given the time difference.
Adrenaline
, I thought as I sorted through a basket full of magazines. I found the latest issue of
Newsweek
and was about to open it when the picture frames on the mantel caught my eye. I put down the magazine and stood up.

The photos included one of Jake’s parents, one of his young nieces, and one of him and his siblings. There was also one of Jake giving a toast at what looked like his brother’s wedding, as well as one of Jake on the basketball court in a Duke uniform. I picked that one up and smiled at it.
So handsome, even back then
.

At the end of the mantel was a group shot that looked like it had been taken fairly recently, in Hawaii or some other tropical paradise. It was the whole McIntyre clan, all sun-kissed and radiant.

“
What a good-looking family,
” I said under my breath.

Then I noticed something, and I got a sick feeling in my stomach.

A woman standing next to Jake had her hand on his arm. And from the way she was touching him, I was pretty sure she wasn’t his sister. Or his sister-in-law. Or his cousin. Or anyone else he wouldn’t kiss.

I leaned closer and wondered who she was. She was tall and brunette and pretty. Together they looked like the prom king and queen.

I bit my lip and remembered seeing Jake with a date at my former boss’s wedding nearly a year earlier. I hadn’t gotten a close look at her, but she was tall and brunette and, at least from a distance, pretty. Very pretty.

Was this the same girl? Why was she in a framed picture on his mantel? Did that mean she was still...in the picture?

“Hey you, I wondered where you went.” The sound of Jake’s voice made me jump.

I turned around. He was standing outside his bedroom door wearing a pair of pajama pants and no shirt, his hair a bit disheveled.

“I didn’t want to wake you, so I made coffee.” I pointed to the kitchen. “I hope you don’t mind.” I also hoped the stress in my voice wasn’t too obvious, but there was no way around the fact that I was anxious.

He walked toward me. “Did you make it strong? I need you on your toes today.”

I admired the definition in his chest and abdomen and thought about the night we’d just spent together. “You do?”

“I do.”

“And why is that?”

He put his arm around me and steered me into the kitchen. “Because Atlanta has a lot to offer, Miss Bryson.”

“I guess we’ll see about that,” I said.

...

“Do you miss sports PR? We’ve never really talked about that.” Jake poured me a fresh cup of coffee, which I immediately doctored up with cream and sugar. “Shane says you were really good at your job.”

I stirred the spoon slowly. “Yes and no. I definitely miss the people, or at least some of them, but I certainly don’t miss the stress of dealing with high-maintenance clients, even the male ones. I didn’t realize
men
could be divas until I worked with professional athletes.”

He laughed.“ I hear you there. What about being the boss? Do you miss that?”

I smiled and shook my head. “I was never the boss, Jake. KA Marketing is a huge company.”

“But you were a senior account director, right? So you were
someone’s
boss.”

“Okay, true.”

“Do you miss anything about it?”

I cupped the steaming mug with both hands and held it under my chin. “I used to think I’d miss the prestige of the high-profile campaigns, but it turns out I don’t.”

He scratched his eyebrow. “Yeah, I know something about that. Working with celebrity athletes isn’t always as glamorous as it sounds.”

“Exactly. It was fun for a while, but there’s got to be more to life than helping rich people get richer. I just felt like it was time to do something different.”

“Something more fulfilling?”

I nodded.

“Like the Honey Notes?”

I nodded again. “I know I can’t live off them forever, but I also think there’s something more that I could do with the idea
behind
them, if that makes sense. I feel like something’s there, but I just don’t know what it is yet.”

“Something tells me you’ll figure it out.”

“You think?”

“I think.”

“Thanks. At least
one
thing I’ve figured out is that I’m not so worried about how things look anymore. Now I’m more concerned with how they feel. I know that sounds a little new age-y, but I guess this is the new Waverly.”

“And how do they feel now that you’re in Atlanta?” He reached across the kitchen table and took my hand. The quick change of subject surprised me, and for a moment I couldn’t bring myself to make eye contact with him.

Tell him how you feel, Waverly.

I wanted to, but suddenly all I could think about was the woman in the photo.

I feel vulnerable
, I wanted to say.
I feel like I’m not as together as you think I am. I feel scared that if I let you in, you’re going to break my heart like Aaron did.

I wanted to open up. I really did.

But I choked and poured ice water on the moment.

“Things feel
chilly
in here, Mr. McIntyre.” I pulled my hand away and playfully rumpled his hair, then stood up and wrapped my arms around myself. “I’m going to get a sweater.”