“Who takes care of her when you’re at work?”
“I have a dog walker. On nights when I work extra late, like tonight, my neighbor checks in on her.”
She slid the mugs across the counter. “Why don’t you take those to a table while I get the cookies?”
He picked up the cups, then crossed the room to set them on a small, round, glass-top table situated between two comfy-looking chairs. She joined him seconds later, setting down a plate containing two oversized cookies. She sat in the chair opposite him and although he tried, he couldn’t help but notice how her short skirt scooted even higher on her thighs when she sat.
With an effort he pulled his gaze from the long expanse of silky leg and focused on the red and pink frosted lip- shaped cookies. “Are these the cookies you mentioned earlier today?” he asked. “The ones you call Bite Me?”
“They are.” Handing him a napkin, she invited, “Help yourself.”
Given how delectable her thighs looked, a cookie wasn’t even close to what he wanted to bite. But since she’d only offered a cookie-for now-he accepted. The first bite had his eyes glazing over.
“Wow. That is one outrageously good cookie.”
“Thank you. It took a lot of trial and error to perfect the recipe.”
“Mission accomplished. You know a cookie’s outstanding when you can actually feel your arteries harden.”
She laughed. “If I could only figure out a way to keep the texture and flavor yet make them calorie free, I’d be a zillionaire. At least for you, being a guy and all, desserts don’t take up permanent residence on your hips. I wish someone would invent a home liposuction kit. Something that could be hooked up to your vacuum cleaner. Or your car battery.”
“Wouldn’t work for you. Your car battery’s dead.”
“Ha, ha.”
He took a sip of coffee and closed his eyes in appreciation. She not only knew how to kiss and move, she baked the World’s Greatest Cookies and brewed the World’s Best Coffee. Damn. That was a pretty lethal combination. Why the hell didn’t he like her? He knew he had reasons. Lots of them. But damned if he could remember what they were. Better get her talking again-surely she’d say something that would jog his memory.
“Since I told you all about my language-challenged relationship with Sasha, now it’s your turn.”
“My turn for what?”
“To tell me something about you I don’t know.”
She leaned back in her chair and studied him over the rim of her steaming mug. “What do you want to know?”
She shook her head. “I have one sister, Meg, but we look nothing alike and are so completely different in every way, people who know us both can’t believe we’re actually related.”
“Different how?”
“Meg was the gorgeous, popular, outgoing cheerleader with straight blond hair. I wore glasses, had braces, was self-conscious, shy and a total klutz. And I was stuck with this.” She grabbed a handful of her curly hair and gave it a gentle tug. “When we were growing up, Meg wasn’t exactly sensitive or sympathetic to my less than spectacular appearance. We’re close now, but as kids, it was tough. To this day she still calls me Dimples just to piss me off.”
His gaze dipped to the sexy creases that flanked her gorgeous mouth. “Seems to be a perfect nickname-you have a great pair.”
“Thanks. Except when Meg foisted the name on me I was a toddler, and she was referring to the dimples on my butt. Thank goodness I ended up with them on my face so I didn’t have to spend my life explaining what the name really meant.”
He chuckled, then asked, “What’s your nickname for her?”
“Prom Queen. I think she must hold some world record for attending proms.” She took another sip of coffee and a wistful expression filled her eyes. “When we were growing up, I would have given anything to look like her. To be like her. But now…now I wouldn’t trade places with her for any amount.”
“Why’s that?”
She hesitated, as if debating whether or not to tell him, then said, “She’s been married for six years and things aren’t going well. Unfortunately, Meg’s husband Dan is a carbon copy of our dad-financially successful but emotionally unavailable. She has a beautiful home, two terrific kids, every material possession she could ever hope for, but Dan’s first, second and third priorities are his career. Meg and the kids are a distant fourth.”
“That’s too bad.”
“It is. They separated once, three years ago, but after going to counseling they reconciled. Yet nothing’s changed. I give her credit for not wanting to give up on her marriage, but under all the material things she just seems so…lonely. Just like our mom was.”
“Your parents divorced?”
She shook her head. “My dad died when I was in high school. I’d lived with him my entire life, yet I barely knew him. He was always working or on a business trip, always too busy to play or go to the mall or come to school events. He never took time to enjoy life, to enjoy his wife or daughters. For a man who had such a strong drive to succeed, he couldn’t see that he failed at the things that were most important. His family. His marriage.” She looked down at her hands and when he followed her gaze, he saw how her fingers were clamped tightly together.
Reaching out, he laid his hand over hers. “I’m sorry, Lacey,” he said quietly. “I know how much it hurts to lose a parent. I lost my mom five years ago. Cancer.”
She looked up, her eyes full of sympathy. And something else. Surprise and confusion, as if she were seeing him for the first time-the exact way he knew he’d looked at her only moments earlier. “I’m so sorry, Evan.”
“Me, too. She was a great lady and a terrific mom. Like you, I wasn’t exactly a standout in school. I was the pudgy kid who always got teased, the nerd who sucked at sports and always got picked last in gym class.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “You’re kidding.”
“I’m not. I kept trying at sports, but it was hopeless. Still, my mom always encouraged me, always cheered me on, even when I kicked the winning goal in soccer for the opposing team.”
Her eyes widened. “I did the exact same thing. In fourth grade. I wanted to die. Instead my mom took me out for ice cream to celebrate that I’d scored my first goal.”
“My mom took me for pizza.” He smiled and squeezed her hand. Looking down, he saw the way his fingers were curled around hers. And liked the way it looked. Raising his gaze back to hers, he said, “Half an hour ago I wouldn’t have believed it, but it seems we have a few things in common.”
She nodded slowly, as if she couldn’t quite believe it, either. “Seems so. What about your dad?”
“He died in a car crash when I was a baby. I don’t remember him at all. It was always just me and my mom.”
Her gaze searched his. “So you’re alone.”
Those softly spoken words resonated deep inside him. They weren’t true-he had lots of friends, good neighbors, work colleagues, even some distant cousins who lived in Florida. But that wasn’t what she meant and he knew it. She meant immediate family.
“I’m alone,” he agreed. Because in spite of his friends and neighbors and colleagues, he indeed felt very alone. And had for a quite some time.
Until tonight.
He didn’t feel alone here, in this coffee shop, talking to her. In fact, he felt…good. Really good. The evening, which had started out so disastrously with broken cars and cell phones, insane sprinklers and a ridiculous robe, had definitely taken an unexpected and-he had to admit-not unpleasant turn.
“No girlfriend?”
Her voice jerked him back. “No one steady. If there was, that kiss wouldn’t have happened. I know you think I’m a pain in the ass and maybe I am, but I’m not a cheater.”
A hint of rose blossomed on her cheeks. “Believe it or not, I haven’t thought of you being a pain in the ass for at least five minutes.”
“That makes two of us. And sets a new record. Wanna go for ten minutes?”
