Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Tzipi had something she hadn’t had in a while: a good dream about Lorne. Nothing major, he was just there and smiling and she didn’t feel the spiraling sense of doom that usually accompanied dreams of him.
She also had had three orgasms last night, and woke to Jonah’s arm over her like the best weighted blanket. The kind you pull closer when you wake early and realize it’s a weekend and you can roll back over and sleep in. Which is exactly what she did.
The next time she woke, sunlight was filtering through the one double-window in his apartment.
The bed was empty, but the air was filled with a delicious scent.
She didn’t have to look far: Jonah was at the small wall of appliances across the studio apartment.
His bare back to her, and…in black boxer briefs, just like she had imagined.
His hair looked dark, slicked back from the shower.
How had she not heard any of this activity until now?
Oh yeah, three orgasms. She’d been a sex coma, the deep sleep that finally arrives after you succumb.
She propped herself up on an elbow and watched him hustle.
Reaching to push the coffee machine button, popping something out of the toaster, his linebacker frame blocking whatever magic he was stirring up on the cooktop.
“Hey, morning.”
Jonah had plated up the steaming goodness, delivering it to the bistro table at arm’s length. Real estate was precious in this apartment, and Tzipi decided she liked it far better than the cavernous loft that she’d been trying to make feel like home.
“Hi.” It came out shy. Not sure why – after all, this was the guy she had literally jumped ship with. And climbed like a jungle gym. “That smells amazing, what is it?”
“I joked about onions, lox and eggs last night, but seriously. It’s the best breakfast I know how to make. And I happened to have all the ingredients in the house.”
She pulled his oversize shirt back on, wincing as her hair extensions caught in the collar.
She hadn’t done any of the things Kara and the stylist had instructed her to do: brushing it before bed, braiding it, sleeping on a silk pillowcase, and the biggest one: avoiding getting it wet.
The result was a tangled mess. Matted to one side of her head, ratted out on the other.
Not the worst of her problems, but…not ideal.
Speaking of worst…she reached for her phone. Kara’s phone.
Hope your guy is ok!!!! And no worries, Kara. Let’s embargo the news till Monday. Full-on Hanukkah launch!
I’ll text you Sunday pm w. time almost caramelized.
Mixed in were perfectly salted bites of the smoked salmon, which had cooked along with the eggs.
She’d never had lox this way, and didn’t think she could go back to eating it the usual way ever again.
“Why aren’t you eating?”
His half-smirk was bashful bachelor. “I could only find one fork.”
She handed it over, and they took turns.
Jonah’s coffee was amazing, too. Or maybe it was the entire tableau: curled up in the cozy studio, its view just another building on his tree-lined street.
His neighbor’s window had fake snow sprayed into its corners, and you could make out the twinkling of a tree.
If she could see that, Tzipi wondered if they could see Jonah’s electric menorah on his sill, and inside beyond it to the books and plants and the wide brim of his mug hiding his smile after she complimented his cooking.
New York seemed to have endless stories to daydream about.
She knew they were nowhere near the West Village, but she was getting that lazy afternoon cozy coffeeshop indulgence right here. Good thing, since she couldn’t leave Jonah’s apartment even if she wanted to.
At least they had all his mom’s bunker supplies. And Kara’s fancy ballgowns.
Inspiration struck.
While Jonah cleared the table and washed what he joked was his only pan, two plates and a fork, she snuck into the bathroom with Kara’s suitcase.
There was the blue velvet jumpsuit, right on top. Kara had mentioned wearing it on last year’s cruise. And Jonah had admitted his embarrassing encounter with her sister last Hanukkah had been the impetus for seeking her out. Putting two and two together…
“Hey, big guy.”
Jonah turned. And dropped the frying pan into the sink at the sight of her in the doorway.
Hair fluffed, lips plumped. In blue velvet that practically plunged to her navel.
How on earth did Kara manage to not flash boob every time she turned in this thing?
Tzipi’s feet were bare, still recovering from last night’s stilettos.
But otherwise, she considered it not a half-bad replica.
Despite being dumbfounded, Jonah’s reflexes were still sharp – he caught the college shirt she tossed. “Thanks for the loan. But I’m good now.”
He slowly put it on, gaze never leaving her except for when he pulled the T over his head. “I think you are being the opposite of good right now.” He slowly approached her. “This is all kinds of wrong.”
She held her ground and his stare, bee-stung lips slightly parted.
“I heard you had something you wanted to say to me?”
He was toe to toe with her now, gazing down at her. “You’re shorter than I recall.”
“No, that wasn’t it. Something you wanted to ask…”
He tilted his head, taking a deep, controlled breath. “Why do you smell so familiar? Like…like my deodorant.” Another healthy sniff, nose practically running up the side of the jumpsuit. “Just like Dr. Squatch.”
Work with me here, buddy. “I couldn’t find mine.”
He nosed up the other side of her. “Yep, that’s Mountain Meadow. The ‘wild, untamed edge of fresh,’ all right.”
She knew what he was trying to do. He was trying to get her to break character. If so, he was seriously underestimating her Method acting. Hands on her hips, she shook out her hair and turned her eyes upward. Blinked. And pouted.
He dropped to his knees. “Oh yeah. I wanted to ask forgiveness. And thank you.”
“For…?” Her hands rested on the top of his curls, ready to absolve him.
“For the chubby I am now sporting in my boxers.” He pulled the satin ribbon at her waist, and the bow unraveled. As did her commitment to the role.
“Jonah! I’m giving you this one pass…” she protested.
“Who’s Jonah? I’m Max, lady. And I’m on the clock.”
He pressed his mouth against the crushed velvet at her crotch and huffed. She nearly passed out. “I’m going to peel you like a blue velvet banana, and you’re going to like it.”
They both began laughing. “Okay, that was weird,” he admitted. “But no weirder than your offer…”
She gently tugged his curls and he rose to his feet again.
“I don’t need a ‘pass’ or one shot at some fantasy,” he whispered, trailing his finger between her cleavage until he reached her chin, and nudged it up.
He kissed her sweetly. “You’re my fantasy.
Funny, Feisty. Fuck, I am peeling this thing off you. That bow was obviously fake.”
“There’s a zipper, silly.”