Nooners Not Included
Maddox
From the lobby's sofa, I spotted Delaney the moment the elevator doors slid open.
She stepped out alone and then paused. Her gaze moved left and then right before flicking nervously toward the building's front entrance, like she was expecting a SWAT team to burst through the door.
I stood. Was something wrong?
But then, her gaze landed on me, and she smiled. The smile hit me hard in all the right places, and when she moved forward, I crossed the lobby to meet her halfway.
She'd traded last night's cocktail dress for jeans and a beige sweater. The jeans were faded, and the sweater was loose. And yet, I couldn't seem to look away.
When we reached each other, she asked, "I'm not late, am I?"
"No, you're early." I checked my watch. "By three minutes."
She laughed. "Yeah, well…you're earlier."
This was true – and surprising.
Waiting around for anyone wasn't usually my style. And yet, I'd been sitting in the lobby for nearly ten minutes, even though it would've been just as easy to wait upstairs.
In the penthouse.
After Cal had left my office, I'd gone and pulled the trigger. The agent had practically jumped to book it, especially after I'd offered a nice bonus if the place was clean and ready before noon.
Turns out, it was furnished and available for the next five days – maybe longer if I wanted to pull some strings.
This wasn't a big deal.
Or at least, that's what I told myself.
I smiled. "Don't worry. I came down only a few minutes before you did."
Delaney glanced toward the elevators. "You mean…from your apartment?"
The question made me pause. "Something like that."
"So…which floor? I mean…you know I'm staying on the seventh, so where do you live?"
Fuck. Now, I had a decision to make – one I'd been hoping to put off until after I'd heard Delaney's story. But I would never hear it if she bolted now, so in the end, I kept my reply simple. "The top one."
Technically, this wasn't a lie. I did live on the top floor – just not here, that's all. And hey, some might say the fact I'd just rented a top unit in this very building made the reply doubly-true.
Would I say that?
No.
In spite of my other flaws, I wasn't one to play fast and loose with the truth. Shit. At some point, I would need to stop digging.
In the quiet lobby, Delaney's tone grew wistful. "I bet the view's amazing."
It was, actually – meaning at my own place, not here. But the view from the rental upstairs wasn't half-bad. On impulse, I said, "If you want to see it, we could do coffee on the balcony."
I wasn't sure why I said it. This hadn't been part of the plan. And yet, it wasn't lost on me that if we had coffee in private, there'd be no chance of somebody coming out of the woodwork to say, "Hey, aren't you that asshole who left Sloane Hayworth at the altar?"
Sure, Delaney would find out eventually. But the idea of putting it off wasn't sounding half-bad.
She liked me. I could tell.
Odder still, it wasn't because I was rich. Or infamous. Or rubbed elbows with names you see on TV.
She liked me for myself. The sensation was oddly compelling.
Damn it. Cal was right. I was acting funny.
As for Delaney, she was looking suddenly mortified. With a little groan, she said, "Oh, gosh. That sounded like a hint, didn't it? Sorry, I didn't mean it that way."
I studied her face. "What way?"
And now she was blushing. "Like…you know…let's go upstairs for…well…whatever."
At her words, I felt my own skin grow warm – not with a blush, but at the idea of whatever she was thinking.
Or not thinking.
She looked so cute, I had to smile. "Don't worry. That's not what I meant."
With an awkward little laugh, she said, "So…no nooners, huh?" But then, her hands flew to her face, and she groaned again. Through her splayed fingers, she murmured, "I should probably just shut up now."
Holy hell. Now I was thinking of a nooner. But there was no way I'd let this happen. She didn't even know my full name, and getting her naked without full disclosure would be a total dick move – even by my standards.
Unfortunately, my body didn't seem particularly interested in logic, and the more time I spent around her, the harder it was becoming to remember this wasn't supposed to be personal.
Still, there absolutely would not be a nooner – no matter what my imagination said.
Meanwhile, Delaney was still hiding behind her hands like she'd just confessed to murder.
Against all reason, I wanted to pull her hands away from her mouth and kiss away her concerns.
Right. Because that would be the perfect way to convince her that a nooner wasn't on the menu.
Finally, I said, "You do realize this is my fault, not yours?"
She dropped her hands. "Your fault? Why?"
"Because I was the one who suggested going upstairs."
"Yeah, but only after I hinted."
"People hint all the time," I said. "That doesn't mean I take them up on it. And you want the truth?"
She nodded.
"You'd be doing me a favor – having coffee upstairs, I mean."
She hesitated. "Why's that?"
Why lie? "Because people have a habit of pissing me off."
This made her laugh. "Really? Why?" She glanced toward my shirt. "I mean…I dumped dirt all over you, and you seemed pretty calm to me."
"Yeah, well…most people aren't you."
Something soft and sweet tugged at her mouth. "Oh, come on. There's nothing special about me."
She was wrong. Somewhere along the line, she'd become the most compelling person I'd met in ages.
Hell, I'd probably been doomed from the moment she'd first smiled.
Once again, I was smiling, too. "That's what you think. Tell ya what. For the next coffee?" I paused to let that sink in. "We'll hit someplace public, and you'll see what I mean."