touched.
“I’d love that.”
“Good.” There was a pause. “Don’t wear a bra.”
“Why,” she breathed.
“Why do you think.”
Cait closed her eyes and swayed, images of his head down at her breasts, his mouth sucking and licking, hitting her hard. “Okay.”
“I want you under me again,” he growled.
That was his good-bye.
As she hung up on her end, she actually fanned herself with her hand, something she’d assumed people only did in TV commercials and bad sitcoms. And then she couldn’t hold it in. Bursting up from her workstation, she ran around her house like a crazy person, making a bizarre kind of
At which point there might have been some pirouetting.
Putting her hands over her mouth, she immediately started wondering what she should wear. She needed to go to the dry cleaner’s—there was a low-cut blouse that she could throw on. And maybe she could hit Talbots at the mall and see if they were having a sale. A new pair of slacks would be nice…
A quick check of the clock had her cursing. Ten o’clock.
Damn it. She was already out of time for the morning—
God, the way he’d moved inside of her, those massive shoulders bunching up above her, his body surging, his eyes glowing.
And that voice of his.
Sitting back down, she put her head in her hands. She couldn’t believe she was going to get to have that again in, what, eight hours. Well, maybe nine and a half, depending on how long dinner took.
Made fast food really damned appealing.
Arby’s, anyone?
As her phone went off again, she accepted the call immediately, hoping it was him dialing back just so they could have the same conversation all over again. “Hello?”
“Are you still speaking to me?”
Cait winced. “Oh, G.B., hi.”
As the first half of the night came back to her, the guilt rolled in along with a shiver of the fear, as if her insides were switching railroad tracks.
“I’m so sorry, Cait. Oh, my God, I couldn’t believe I got tied up like that…”
With his heartfelt explanation of everything washing over her, she scrambled for what she was going to say when he asked her out again. Originally, she’d been really happy that he’d invited her to the theater, but now? It was as if the road in front of her had a curve in it, and her new direction was away from him, not toward him.
“… lunch?”
“What?” she said, coming back to attention.
“I just wanted to know if you’d be free for lunch downtown? I’m back at the theater today, rehearsing for
“Well, I have a class to teach at eleven.” And if she didn’t get her butt in gear, she was going to be late. “It gets out at one. I could be downtown by one thirty—I’m not sure if that fits into your schedule?”
“I’ll make it work. Come to the theater—and this time I can get you back no problem, because it’s just a rehearsal, not a performance.”
“Okay, thanks. I’ll see you then—”
“Cait. I can hear the hesitation in your voice. I swear, last night was a fluke. That’s not who I am—I didn’t flake out on you on purpose.”
Well … he was right about the pause, but way off-track on the “why” behind it. Dear Lord, how did this work? Did she tell him that she’d seen someone else last night?
“Seen” as in “had sex on the floor in the back of a club with him.”
At what juncture did she tell G.B. she was seeing somebody else? Was she even dating Duke? Maybe it was just a two-nighter.
What a mess.
“I know,” G.B. muttered. “It’s not at all how I thought the night was going to go.”
Shoot, she’d spoken out loud. “No, no, I meant …” Better to do this in person, she thought. “I’d love to have lunch with you, and I really do understand about last evening. I’ll see you after class?”
The relief in his voice was palpable. “See you then, Cait. And thanks again for being so cool.”
Jim woke up alone.
As his eyes opened, the first thing he did was look for Sissy, but she was gone as if she had never been. Rolling over, he could still smell her in the sheets, however, just the faintest hint of sweet female skin lingering where she had lain next to him.
Getting out of bed, he pulled on some clothes, took a pit stop in the bathroom, and then went down to her room. The door was ajar, but he knocked on the jamb anyway. When there was no answer, he put his head in. The bed was made, with no sign of her having been in there.
He hit the stairs, descending quickly—
Jim stopped dead on the grandfather clock’s landing. Food. He smelled … real food. Like the homemade stuff his mother had made all those years ago.
“What the hell?” Adrian said from the top of the stairs. “Is that … breakfast?”
“I think so. I certainly didn’t make it.”
“Duh.” The other angel limped around the balustrade and joined him to finish the trip down. “When I smelled smoke last night, I figured you were trying to bake.”
Yeah, not hardly.
The pair of them strode for the kitchen, and the closer they got, the more the nuances came out. Cinnamon. Eggs. Coffee.
“Wow,” Adrian said as they came into the room.
Sissy was working over the stove like she knew what she was doing, whisking something that looked like scrambled eggs in a bowl and then pouring the mix into a pan that sizzled. Three plates had been set out on the little table in the middle of the room, mismatched silverware was lined up, and mugs sat like flags at the upper right corners of the settings.
“Oh, my God, toast,” Adrian said as he barged ahead and parked it in one of the chairs. Without waiting for an invitation, he reached for the stack of what had been bread, but was now golden brown crunch just waiting for butter. “I didn’t know we had a toaster—how the hell did you pull this off?”
Sissy glanced over her shoulder, meeting Jim’s eyes only briefly before looking away. “The oven. Under the broiler. That’s how we did it at summer camp.”
“Can I help myself?” the other angel said, in the process of buttering things up.
“Please do. I like mine with cinnamon sugar on top.” Sissy turned around with the pan. “I hope this is okay? I’m not a sunny-side-up person. Uncooked yolks are nasty.”
There was a pause, as if she were waiting for Jim to sit down.
He wanted a cigarette more than he needed breakfast, but he wasn’t going to be rude. “This is great. Thanks.”
A second later, she served Ad first, using a wooden spoon to shuffle some fluffy onto the angel’s plate. Then she was close by, doing the same for Jim.
She’d had a shower; he could smell the shampoo he himself used, and the ends of her hair were damp. And the fact that she was in the same clothes she’d worn the day before made him decide they needed to take care of her wardrobe today.
“Thanks,” he said again as he picked up his fork.
Light. Hot. Delicious. A real break from the crap he’d been throwing down his gut lately. And yet even as he ate like the starved man he was, it was impossible not to think of how they’d spent the night, lying together in that
