No, it doesn’t. For just a moment, she could picture him tossing a child in the air, toys on the floor, the space filled with the good smells of things cooking and laughter and motion, and his vitality.
That imagined picture brought a tinge of color to her cheeks.
It had just been a too long and eventful day that had brought on this flight of fancy. You did not picture the man who could be your boss—obviously single and successful and not willing to change one thing about his glorious playboy lifestyle—in a scene of domestic contentment.
Was she in that scene with him? Good grief! Was that their baby the Jamie of her imagination was playing with?
The renegade thoughts were stunning. She had put away such longings what seemed to be a lifetime ago. To hope for such things was to reopen a place in herself that was completely barricaded from the possibility of ever hurting the way she had once hurt...hadn’t she known, even when she met Ralph in Copenhagen, he could not touch that place inside of her? But this man...
“I have to call my parents,” she blurted out, as a way of grounding herself.
“Sure. Let’s just get the pizza ordered first. Have a seat,” he invited with a careless sweep of his hand. He was unknotting the tie from his throat, and it felt enticingly intimate to witness that moment. She scurried over to a deep leather chair that looked toward the view, instead of at him.
“Pizza,” he said, still taking charge, still solving problems. Of which, she reminded herself firmly, she was one. “Any preferences?”
“The wilder the better,” she said.
When she cast a look at him, she could see his mouth had dropped open, and she was happy to have surprised him.
He was studying her with interest. “You are a walking contradiction, aren’t you? The big family gathering dinners, and then the wilder the better taste.”
Her happiness at his surprise dissolved as she realized the possibility for double entendre. “I was only talking about pizza!” she stammered.
“Of course you were,” he said soothingly, but not before she saw the wicked satisfaction cross his features. She had caught him off balance by weighing in on his style, and now he was enjoying catching her off balance, as well.
“Don’t you have traditional family celebrations here?” she asked him, remembering he had mentioned his sister, the one who would be shopping with her tomorrow.
“No,” he said, a little too curtly, as if by asking about his family, she had crossed a line.
“I have to call my parents,” she reminded him—and herself—again. And she could see the fact she was going to check in with her parents negated, completely, any wild thoughts he was having concerning her.
As if.
He ordered pizza first. When he handed her the phone, she said, “Please keep track of the costs, for the pizza and the long-distance call. I’ll pay my share when I have funds.”
His lips twitched. Again, she could not tell if it was amusement or annoyance. He didn’t address her offer to pay at all, just handed her the phone.
“Let me show you the guest room and you can make your call there in privacy—”
As if she would have anything private to say to her parents.
Hey, Mom...hey, Dad. It’s been a crazy introduction to New York City. I’ve been robbed, but rescued by this gorgeous man who might be my boss someday if I abandon you and Timber Falls, and by the way I’m staying in his apartment with him.
Her mom would have a heart attack and her dad would be on the next plane to New York.
“—and freshen up. By the time you’re done, the pizza should have arrived.”
Jessica trailed him down a wide hallway, taking a peek in the master bedroom as they went by. It faced those same Central Park city views, and held a massive bed that made her think, to her eternal horror, the wilder the better.
The guest room was gorgeous. The views did not face the park, and yet the cityscape was utterly breathtaking. He showed her through to the attached bath, and she saw it had a stand-alone tub and a deluxe Italian-tiled shower stall in it.
Bubble bath? Or shower? Somehow, she was not sure she could stand having a bubble bath in the same space he was in, even if walls did separate them. Besides, she was hungry, and a proper bath required a commitment of time.
Shower it would be, and she could not wait!
“Do you suppose I could borrow a T-shirt to use as a nightie?”
“Of course,” he said smoothly, but something had flashed, just for a moment in the dark depths of those eyes, when she mentioned a nightie.
Or maybe not, because he continued speaking, the ideal host, unruffled by mentions of nighties. “Meanwhile, there’s a canvas bag on the back of your bathroom door, if you put your clothes in that and set it outside, I’ll have the concierge pick them up and have it laundered.”
“At this time of night?”
He lifted his shoulder. Obviously anything was possible here, at any time of the night or day, and he didn’t give it a second thought.
“So, you don’t cook or do laundry?” she asked. The truth was that the thought of someone else doing her laundry was embarrassing to her.
“I’m often short on time. I cheerfully delegate anything I don’t enjoy doing.”
He left her, and then came back a few minutes later, knocking softly on her door before coming in and placing a selection of neatly folded T-shirts on her bed. Then he laid a plaid bathrobe—obviously his—beside the shirts.
He gave her his security code and left her his phone, then closed the doors behind him. Jessica unlocked the phone and called her parents. How high school crush was it that she was aware that her mouth on the phone was very close to where Jamie’s mouth had been
