Sway (4 page)

huge amount of food just this

morning. I can’t tell you what any of

it is. I just tucked it all into my fridge.

But I can guarantee whatever it is

you’ll love.”

“And you live in your own place?”

“No. Of course not. I live in a

dorm with all my college pals. We

play beer pong and have pillow

fights in our underpants while

giggling.”

He’d been about to frown at her

until she made the pillow fighting

comment and then he went there in

his head and had to fight off a hard-

on at the thought.

She handed him a business card.

“My house is here. Well, not the

gallery part. I live in a small house

on the same lot. Mine is the one with

the blue shutters. You can meet me

there in a bit. I need to take these figs

to the same friend who brought me

the food this morning. I’ll be home in

about thirty minutes.”

“All right. I’ll see you then.”

She waved and he watched her

head to the front to check out. At least

he had time to run his own groceries

home first.

Daisy knocked and went inside when

she heard Mary call out. “Hey, I was

at the market and I saw figs on sale.”

She held up the bag and Mary took

them with a delighted sound before

she kissed Daisy’s cheek and hugged

her.

“Awesome! I’ve been working for

the last two days on a few new

recipes with figs. Stay and be my

tester.” Mary drew her into the large

kitchen where Mary’s brother Cal

and their friend Jules were already

seated.

“Hey gorgeous!” Jules hopped up

to come and hug Daisy.

“Hey you.” She hugged Jules back

and then moved to drop a kiss on

Cal’s cheek. “I can’t stay. I have…I

guess it’s a date.”

“You

guess?”

Jules’s

pretty

features darkened.

“It’s this guy I met in a class. Or it

wasn’t my class, I was subbing in the

class and he was in it by mistake and

he left and I left.”

“Oh, hot guy in the suit. Yum.”

Mary put the figs on the counter.

“Yes, him. I just saw him at the

grocery store. I’m going to make him

dinner. Or actually serve him your

food, which is better. I told him it

wasn’t my cooking all up front and

everything.” She added this when

Jules’s brow went up.

“Girl, I don’t care about that. Who

is this guy? You’re letting a near

stranger come to your house?”

“He’s some uber professional hot

dude. If I end up dead and stuffed in a

freezer, tell ’em some pretty guy

named Levi Warner saw me last.”

“Don’t make fun.” Jules glowered

and Daisy hugged her, loving how

protective they all were.

“I’m not making fun of how you

care about me. But he seems wary

because of the age thing. It’s dinner,

not an engagement.”

“He’s legit.” Cal sipped his beer.

“Warner family is a big deal in some

circles. They’ve got a law firm in

Seattle. He’s got a small office here

as well.”

“Is he throwing shade on you guys?

I will totally kick him out if he is.”

Cal laughed. “No, baby, but thank

you. He does land use stuff. Not

anywhere near what we do. He’s

even sent some of his local people to

us when they needed representation

on issues he doesn’t do. But he’s

older than you are.”

“He is.”

Everyone made a deal about her

age. Usually until they got to know

her. It used to bother her more than it

did by that point. At the beginning of

Delicious, she was just eighteen

years old. Gillian and Jules were

already close friends. Mary and her

brothers too because they lived right

next door. Daisy had been the kid

who ran errands for them. She’d

made extra money in high school

working for Jules’s parents at their

cafe so she knew them all. Liked

them and wanted to be part of their

circle. So she’d just done it. Showed

up. And they’d let her in and they’d

all grown close and now six years

later she was one of them, twenty-

four or not.

“Like how much older?”

Daisy shrugged. “He looks mid-

thirties. But he’s got one of those

faces some men have. Could be up to

fifty. Though I don’t think so.”

Cal interrupted. “He’s got to be

forty or so. He was ahead of me at

UW. He and I both went to law

school there. What’s a forty-year-old

man want with a twenty-four-year-

old?”

Daisy indicated her body. “Dude. I

mean, come on. Twenty-four-year-

old boobs.”

Cal blushed furiously as Mary and

Jules laughed.

“Look, it’s dinner. He’s not a

creep. I’d know. I can always tell.

He’s hot. We had chemistry. That’s

all we’re talking about right now.

And I need to run. He’ll be at my

house in ten minutes.” She hugged

and kissed everyone before heading

out again and back home.

Truth was, she found herself

deliciously intrigued by Levi Warner.

He was nothing like any man she’d

been with before. Distinguished, she

thought as she put her bags down in

the kitchen and headed to her closet

to find something to change into. He

made her want to dress up to please

his eye. Which was interesting in and

of itself.

It was too late for a full new outfit

and all that. But she could do better

than yoga pants. She found some

trousers and a shirt to wear over the

tee she had on. A quick brush of

teeth, some lipstick and a braid of her

hair and she was ready by the time he

knocked on the door.

She’d even had time to light some

candles so the house smelled good

when she opened her door to find him

standing on her stoop with a huge

bouquet of flowers and a bottle of

wine.

“Come in.” She took the flowers

and led him to the kitchen, just a few

steps away. “Thank you.” She loved

that he’d chosen a bunch of colorful

wildflowers. They went perfectly

with the vase she’d finished up a few

months ago.

“I brought wine.” He held up a

bag. “And some beer too. I wasn’t

sure what you’d be serving.”

“Put them here on the counter. Let

me see what I’ve got. I just walked

in. If you’d like, you can put some

music on.”

He wandered off, looking around

and probably thinking she didn’t

notice it. The house was where her

grandmother used to live and work

after her grandfather had died. But

she was in her late eighties now and

lived in her parents’ house. She and

Daisy shared a workspace out back.

So the little house had become

hers.

Little Dragon began to play

through her speakers. She watched

him pause to listen and then nod to

himself as if he found it acceptable.

This was a good sign.

She pulled out the containers Mary

had left, peeking in and taking sniffs

as she peeled the lids back.

“Mmm, pulled pork. Do you eat

pork?”

He moved to her and she had no

choice but to freeze in place. He was

too much and not enough all at once

and she didn’t know how to process.

So intense she wanted to run and rub

herself all over him at the same time.

He was the most intense man she’d

ever been attracted to. Though,

attracted was a lightweight word for

the

way

he

simply

assumed

ownership of all her parts, leaving

her mentally panting. And he hadn’t

even touched her yet!

He got even closer to look into the

container she held. “I do.”

Licking her lips, she stepped back

to grab plates and put things into the

microwave.

“Sit. I’ll get you something to

drink. We’ve got pulled pork, which

will go awesome with the brioche

she put in with it. Shrimp salad of

some kind. Don’t know what she

calls it, but it’ll be good. Other little

puffy things and some crunchy bits

and bobs.”

“Beer please.”

He watched through hooded eyes

as she moved around the small space

and served him. Watched as she

tipped the glass when she poured the

beer. Watched as she automatically

dished him up a plate and handed it

to him along with a linen napkin she

casually put on his lap.

Watched and fell under her spell.

“I meant to ask you last week when

I ran into you. Whose artwork is

that?”

“Did you like it?” She nudged

some chili sauce in his direction.

“I did. I take it you work for the

gallery next door? I’d like to speak

with the artist. See if he’d be willing

to donate something to a charity

auction I’m working on.”

One of her brows rose. “I do work

at the gallery next door, yes. It’s only

open a few hours a week. And I’m

sure she’d be willing to donate

something for a good cause. What’s

the cause?”

“Ah, sorry. I assumed and that was

silly. I figured ‘Ramona’ was the

name of the art, not the artist.”

She laughed and paused to hum in

delight after she popped something

into her mouth. “You need to try that

pickled thing there.” She pointed.

“Ramona is my first name.”

He sucked in a breath. “It’s yours

then?”

She nodded. “It is, yes. What’s the

charity?”

He took her hand and kissed her

knuckles before turning it, unfurling

her fingers and kissing her palm.

“You’ve got a lot of talent.”

When he looked at her face again

she was blushing. “Thank you. Oh!”

She jumped up and headed to the

fridge. “Tortillas. I knew I had

something I was forgetting. Hang on,

I’m going to warm them.”

“Did your friend make those too?”

“No. My mom made them. Though

she learned from my grandfather. He

was the cook in the family.”

“And what do they do? Your

family, I mean.”

“My father and sister run a dental

practice. My mother teaches at a

private

elementary

school.

My

grandmother is a painter.”

“Ah, that must be where you got it

then. Does the gallery sell other art

or just your stuff?”

“The gallery is my grandmother’s

place. She and I work there a few

days a week. My grandfather opened

it when he got back from World War

Two. We have some local artists we

feature, as well as my work and my

grandmother’s. This is their land. My

parents live in the big house. My

grandmother now with them. This

used to be her studio and living

space.” She waved a hand as she

continued heating the tortillas.

He liked it. The house wasn’t big.

But it was vibrant and sensual. Her

bed was in a far corner. Unmade. He

loved the burst of rich color, the

blankets and sheets a tangle of purple

and orange. She had a huge collection

of music and movies. Her electronics

were all very good. He’d apparently

been too busy looking at her butt in

those pants to have noticed the art on

the walls.

The space smelled good. Like her.

Sexy. Spicy. Probably forbidden but

he had no plans to get up and leave

anytime soon. She wasn’t a fluffy-

headed young woman. Not at all from

what he could see.

“And you? What do you do? Other

than paint and give dance lessons?”

“I do lots of things.”

“Is that so?” Goddamn, he hoped

so.

She looked at him over her

shoulder as she stood at the stove.

Her mouth quirked up on one side.

“Oh, that too. If you’re lucky.”

“Tell me about your art, then.”

She returned to the table and he

didn’t try to resist the tortillas. Once

he rolled it around the pork and took

a bite he was glad. “Christ, that’s