5. Lila
LILA
M y eyes pop open as I hear Alec in the kitchen. My bare feet pad on the wooden stairs and I clutch his white dress shirt I’m wearing tighter. His . I’m fucking mortified.
I hardly slept, even with a stomach full of hot food and delicious wine. I was this close to sleeping with Alec, to kissing him and making a fool of myself last night. I don’t know what came over me.
Nothing has been normal about the last two days.
And I don’t know what to expect today. Or where to find my clothes. We didn’t have sex; I know that much. I’m fairly sure I asked for a dress shirt to sleep in. Specifically, a dress shirt, because that’s an obvious choice to sleep in.
I roll my eyes and try not to groan at the thought. This is worse than a walk of shame. I didn’t even get to have sex.
As I turn the corner headed toward the kitchen, I spot my suitcase in an instant. The faded blue and bulky casing stands out like a sore thumb on the window seat.
I cast a furtive glance at Alec, hoping I can sneak in and grab it, but it’s no use. He looks up at me from his laptop and says easily, “Good morning.”
My grip on the dress shirt tightens as I try to swallow.
“Morning,” I mutter and glance at my suitcase, desperate to change and try to collect myself.
“Drew brought it over this morning.” Alec closes the laptop and leans back in his seat, his eyes assessing me. “I thought about bringing it up to you, but I didn’t want to wake you.”
My throat’s tight as I answer, “Thank you.”
“How did you sleep?” he asks. I wonder if this is normal for him, to have random women in his clothes parading through his house half-naked on the weekends.
The thought makes me angry and fuels me to walk toward my suitcase.
Last night was a mistake.
“Fine, thank you,” I answer him brusquely although I can’t look him in the eyes. I stop when he asks me, “Is something wrong?”
“Just feeling out of sorts.” I hope he’ll just accept it and let me go about my way. I’m a fool for getting drunk last night.
“Do you need help with that?” he offers and rises from his seat.
I shake my head so fast that my hair swishes against my shoulders.
“Are you being shy?” he asks me, walking around the counter to a coffee maker. The sight is instantly accompanied by the smell of coffee, and that alone is enough to tempt me to stay just a bit longer.
Shy ? Not quite the right word. I clear my throat. “Just a bit embarrassed about last night,” I admit, feeling anxiety creep through me.
“Nothing to be embarrassed about,” Alec says as he takes a mug out and pours a cup of black coffee. I note that he doesn’t add either creamer or sugar as he takes a sip.
He stares at the coffee and then across the room to look at me as he says, “I enjoyed last night.”
The way he says it makes me question if we did have sex. We didn’t though. I distinctly remember coming on to him and being denied.
I hesitate to come up with a response, and he smiles at my frustration. “It was fun having someone to talk to. I really enjoy your company, Lila,” he says with his voice full of sincerity.
I nod my head once. “It was… fun,” I finally say.
A deep rough chuckle fills the room. “Is that why you seem to be in a hurry to leave?” he asks, and it makes me feel like shit. I don’t want to be obvious, but really, what did he expect? Maybe it would have been different had I woken up in his bed in the morning, but then again, it probably would have made me feel even more like shit.
“I just don’t do this,” I say and gesture between us.
“I don’t either,” he’s quick to reply and then takes another sip of his coffee. He gives me a tight smile as he says, “You’re the first person to stay here since my brother’s left.”
His admission catches me off guard. I’m not that na?ve. I narrow my eyes at him, but he only shakes his head. “I wouldn’t lie, Lila.” He reaches into the cabinet, turning away from me and picking up a mug. The ceramic clinks against another cup before he sets it down on the counter.
“Would you like a cup? Maybe some coffee and a hot shower will have you feeling better?” he offers.
The thought of both a hot shower and fresh cup of coffee makes me relax almost instantly.
Yes, that’s just what I need . “Please,” I answer and walk toward the island. I’m acutely aware I’m only in Alec’s dress shirt and my underwear, but he doesn’t seem to mind in the least. His reaction is surprising, in the best of ways. “When I came down here, I wasn’t sure what to expect,” I tell him and watch for his response.
“And?” he asks me.
“And what?”
“Are you happy I hadn’t run off?” he asks with a smile and then brings the cup to me. “Sugar?” he asks. I stare at him from across the counter.
“You don’t have to do this,” I tell him simply. “You don’t need to cater to me and do all of this-”
“Do you think I don’t want to?” he cuts me off, not bothering to wait for me to answer that yes, I do like sugar and creamer. Instead he goes about fetching both, setting them on the counter opposite me. “I’m not doing anything I don’t want to, Lila.” His brow creases as he looks back at me. “Like I said, I enjoy your company and there’s certainly nothing wrong with me being accommodating for a guest.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, giving in and trying to show my gratitude.
“You’re skeptical, and it’s because I’m attracted to you,” he tells me as I spoon out a large heap of raw sugar and dump it into the steaming mug. I nod my head once, my eyebrows rising.
“Yes,” I say and look him in the eyes. “You just want to get into my pants?” It was meant to be a statement, but it turned into a question.
He smirks at me. “If that was the case, we’d still be in bed, Miss Travers.”
I glance down at a dark gray swirl in the granite countertop and then back up to him, picking up the small porcelain pitcher of creamer and watching it lighten the dark coffee. “Why is it that we aren’t?” I ask him slowly and carefully, dreading the answer.
When I look up at him, I find him looking at me with pure unadulterated pleasure. As if I’m the most amusing thing he’s ever seen.
“What’s so funny?” I ask, feeling a small smile pulling my lips up simply in response to him.
“You’re cute,” he says and that smile gets bigger. I shake my head and take a sip of the coffee. It smells rich, tastes delicious and the warmth is desperately needed. It’s heaven.
“You make me nervous,” I tell him as I put the mug down.
“You’re less nervous when you’re drunk,” he tells me and then lays his forearms on the counter, leaning closer to me. “But I didn’t want to take you to bed and have you not remember it.”
I nod and feel my cheeks flame, casting my eyes down.
“You did promise me a date last night,” Alec says as he pushes away from the counter and out of my reach, the movement catching my attention.
“Did you really bring me out here...” I start to ask and then have to trail off as my head pounds with a morning headache from caffeine withdrawal or maybe a hangover. I grip the mug with both hands. “Did you bring me out here simply because you wanted to sleep with me?” I can't help but ask him the annoying thought that’s been bugging me.
Alec scratches the back of his head, looking away from me for a moment. “I shouldn’t have said that last night,” he starts, and I have to cut him off.
“Are you saying you should have lied?” I ask. I don’t know why I’m feeling so defensive, or so much like I want to run.
“I’m saying, your editor contacted me and I requested you. I looked into the others, but I admired your writing and found you attractive,” he says easily, the tension in the air dissipating. “It doesn’t hurt that I’ve been alone for a long time and the thought of taking you on a date after the interview… well, I couldn’t say no to that.”
“Our interview isn’t over,” I say, trying to remember if I even started a write-up last night. I’m confused with which direction to take the article. Do I go with something that will sell but still be business-oriented that my editor will find appropriate? Or should I stick to what I really want to write?
“First dates are interviews, Lila. And ours went great last night,” Alec says with his eyes on me as he raises the mug of coffee to his lips. There’s a challenge in his gaze, and I play along.
“Last night was not a date.” The strength in my voice is gone, and I have to bite down on my lip to keep from smiling.
He doesn’t hold back his own as he sets down the mug and swallows. My eyes are drawn to his neck and then up to his lips as he licks them.
“If that’s the way you want to play this, that’s fine. I’d love to have another non-date with you tonight, Miss Travers. But first, an interview over coffee and brunch in town.”
“Just an interview?” I ask him, feeling disappointed although I’ve brought this on myself.
He closes the space between us with his large strides. He gets near enough to where I can touch him if I want, near enough to where he could lean down and put his lips on mine. But neither of those things happens. Instead he leans against the counter and merely stares down at me. The heat crackling between us begs me to initiate something. I refuse it though, gripping my coffee mug and pretending the sexual tension doesn’t exist.
“It was never just an interview,” he says just above a murmur and the way he says it makes me more than certain those words are the absolute truth. He leans forward, his lips close to my ear, his hot breath trailing down my shoulder and he whispers, “Shower first, and then our date.”