Throb

“Stop looking at me like that.” He lifts the starched white collar and slides the tie around his neck, fastening a perfect knot with dexterous fingers.

“Like what?”

“Like you want to eat me?”

“I thought I already did.”

His eyebrows raise and he walks around the kitchen counter. I’m still only wearing his shirt from yesterday, even though he’s fully dressed. Grabbing my ass, he hauls me to the edge of my seat as he stands between my legs.

“This is a good height.” He pushes his bulge further between my legs. “Helen is going to call paramedics if I don’t show up to the office soon. It’s not like me to cancel a meeting.”

“Are you saying I’m a bad influence?” I pout.

“I’m saying you’re impossible to walk away from.” He tugs at my shirt, exposing my shoulder, and plants a wet kiss. “What are your plans for today?”

“I have to go to wardrobe to try on things. They want everything done before we get our filming break.”

His jaw flexes, but he nods.

He’s still never asked for confirmation that Flynn picked me to advance to the final four. We’re not in bed anymore, so I broach the subject again. “You don’t seem surprised I need clothes for the show.” I catch his gaze.

He looks away for a second, but it’s enough to tell me he already knew for sure I was picked. “How did you know? And don’t tell me from the way Flynn looks at me.”

His face hardens. “Can you not say his name?”

I’m not letting him change the subject this time. He promised he wouldn’t watch the DVDs and I’m curious how he already knew. “How did you know Dickhead picked me for the final four?” I say.

He sighs and then wraps his hands around my waist. He thinks I’ll storm off once he tells me. I brace myself for his response.

“I went to the taping last night.”

My eyes bulge. “You promised you wouldn’t watch it.”

“I promised I wouldn’t watch the dailies. I never said I wouldn’t watch the live taping.”

“That’s splitting hairs.” I squint. “And you know it.”

He exhales a frustrated breath. “Can we pretend the show doesn’t exist for the next week? You’re off for a week and I want you all to myself. No talk of the show, Dickhead or my brother. I just want you and me.”

I swallow hard. “Okay. I’ll go to wardrobe and then no talking about the show for the entire week-long hiatus.”

“Thank you.” He plants a chaste kiss on my lips, fishes into his pocket and hands me a set of keys. “Black Mercedes parked next to the Porsche. Don’t worry about anyone recognizing it at the studio. It’s never made it there yet. Keys to the apartment are on there too. I’ll meet you back here at five.”

“Bossy,” I mutter, taking the key ring.

He shakes his head and grins, kissing me one last time before taking off. “I tell you what, I’ll let you pick what we do tonight to show you how amicable I can be.”

Chapter twenty-six

Cooper

Even two hours late to the office, I get more accomplished in a half day than I have in weeks. Helen delivers lunch along with the jewel case I’m usually tapping my finger waiting for.

“Throw the DVD in the shredder.”

“Pardon?” Helen is confused at my sudden change of heart.

“I’m swearing off reality TV for a week. I want that thing out of my sight.”

“Whatever you say.”

I sit through three meetings, have two telephone conferences and sign a half dozen contracts that have been sitting on my desk waiting for my attention for more than a week.

Mid afternoon my phone chimes, indicating a new text. A rarity for me. I prefer in-person conversations. Yet another thing I learned from my father. I use my phone to read the news and make calls. But seeing Kate’s name on the screen makes me smile.

What’s your favorite color?

Blue.

I expect more to come, but it doesn’t.

Why?

Just asking.

Just randomly decided to ask my favorite color in the middle of the day?

Maybe.

Where are you?

Lingerie store

Then can I change my answer?

LOL. Sure.

Black. Lace. Thong. Garters.

That’s more than a color.

Buy it or now I’ll have to stop on the way home.

Bossy.

Maybe texting isn’t so bad after all.

I clear as much of my calendar as I can, rescheduling the meetings that can’t be changed from in-person to telephone conferences. The corporate travel department has everything I need on my desk by four thirty and I’m out the door ready, even though I still haven’t asked her yet.

I’m anxious to get home. Women never frequented my apartment, and I certainly never offered anyone a key. Yet strangely, it didn’t seem like a monumental occasion to hand over the keys to everything I owned. It seemed … normal.

Kate’s in a floor-length silk robe when I enter. I head straight for her, my fingers going straight for the dangling belt tie. She stops my hands. “What are you doing?”

“I want to see what’s underneath here.”

“No ‘Honey, how was your day even?’”

“How was your day?” I say, uninterested, as I tug crudely at the belt, ignoring her hands trying to stop mine. Her robe opens, revealing a sight I haven’t been able to stop thinking about all day. Only, the actual vision is even better than the one I’d conjured up in my mind.