“You suck,” I say with a smile. “But the joke’s on you, because it turned out to be a nice visit.”
She raises her eyebrows and taps her blunt index fingernail against the ceramic mug handle. “Details.”
“Well, not that nice, if that’s what you’re thinking. But he’s a good kisser.”
“Let me get this straight. He drops in on you at an ungodly hour without calling first, and you reward him? With a makeout session?”
Trying and failing to hide my amusement, I answer, “I showed him my movie collection first.”
“Is that a euphemism?”
With a glare, I say, “He lost a big game yesterday, so I was nice. And there was no makeout session. We kissed. Right over there.” I point to the place in the kitchen where it happened and have to concentrate not to get all swoony. “It was an intense kiss. But just a kiss. I felt sorry for him!”
“And after the consolation kiss? Nothing? He just went home?” Suddenly pale, she grips the sides of the donut box, as if she’s going to toss the whole thing in the trash, and whispers, “Oh, shit. Is he still here?”
“No! I told you, we only kissed. Anyway, is there an eighty-thousand-dollar car in my driveway? What’s your problem?”
“He can’t know about these donuts.”
I roll my eyes. “Your secret is safe with me. He’s turning out to be quite the gentleman, despite all the things you’ve tried to get me to believe about him.”
“Apparently, he’s digging this hard-to-get act you’re putting on.”
“It’s not an act. I have no clue what I’m doing with him. He scares the crap out of me most of the time, because he’s so intense. But he’s also so effing hot!”
“Does he make you feel all wiggly?”
“Hell, yes! He’s into me. That’s flattering. I’d be an idiot not to enjoy the ride for a while, at least to say I did.” Crude? Maybe. Honest? Yes.
She shakes her head. “He must enjoy the challenge. Lord knows he’s not used to having to work for puss—”
“Hey, hey, hey!” I wag my finger at her. “I hate that word.”
“That’s why I use it.”
A buzzing from my robe pocket gets both of our attentions.
“Speak of the angel,” she cracks.
I pull out my phone and check the display before answering, “I’m already awake, if you can believe it.”
His laugh makes me feel ridiculously fluttery. “Here you thought I’d be interrupting your beauty sleep.”
“You have a habit of doing that.”
“I’d hardly call one time a ‘habit,’ but if exaggerating is one of your faults, I’m glad to finally find one.”
“Does that line actually work on anyone?”
“It’s not a line. I’m serious.”
“Then you’ll be relieved to know I have plenty of faults.”
Rae nods her silent agreement as she closes the lid on the donuts and puts her mug in the dishwasher.
I stick out my tongue behind her back. “Rae would be more than happy to tell you all about them.”
“I’d rather discover them in person. Do you have any plans today?”
“No!” I quickly answer. “Not at all. Rae’s here now, but she’ll be leaving soon. She stopped by this morning to”—she makes a cutting motion across her neck and points to the donuts—“catch up,” I finish lamely.
“I see.” His smug tone indicates he knows we’ve been talking about him. “Well, if you’re available later, I thought I might swing by to get you after the postmortem at the training complex.”
“Where are we going?”
“Nowhere special. You showed me your place, so I thought I’d show you mine,” he answers coolly. “And introduce you to Torz.”
I mutter, “Gosh, that sounds serious,” and he laughs in reply, but I’m not kidding. My heart palpitates. Maybe it’s the coffee and sugar, though.
“What do you say?” he asks eagerly. “I’ll come by at one-ish? The team meeting should be short. Nobody wants to talk about it, and it doesn’t take too long to say, ‘We’ll get ’em next year, guys.’”
“Fine,” I answer meekly. “Sounds… good.”
“Great! I’ll see you then, Maura.”
“Yeah. See ya.”
So, this is really happening.
This thing with Jet makes me feel like I have multiple personalities. Or at least two. I’m afraid I’m sending him mixed signals. Since I’m sending mixed signals to myself, though, I’m powerless to transmit a more consistent message.
One of the Mauras can’t get enough of the guy. He’s funny and charming, he’s a great kisser, he thinks I’m close to perfect, and—I’m just going to say it—he’s rich and famous.
The other Maura is freaking out. He sends over-the-top flower arrangements, drops in unannounced and uninvited in the middle of the night, says suggestive things to me that could be interpreted as cheesy or sleazy, goes behind my back to get information about me, and is too damn sure of himself and everything he says and does.
As a result, I’ll be creeped out one second and incredibly turned on the next. It’s like he’s holding a plastic grocery sack over my head, but I’m one of those weirdos who gets off on it.
Now, as I sit in the passenger seat of his sporty, low-slung car (Chiefs red, of course), I’ve finally figured out what the flashes of repulsion are about. I don’t want to admit to myself that I could be falling for this guy, like Colin predicted. The last thing I ever want to be is predictable. Or impressionable enough for Jet’s charms to work on me. I’m many things, but I’m not dumb. Only dumb women allow cheesy lines to charm them out of their panties.
That’s where the me who’s allergic to romance comes in. She shoves Horny Maura out of the way and cock blocks Mr. Knox. As she should. But I can’t help wishing she’d go away. Maybe for an hour. Or one night.
She definitely needs to stop calling me a gold digger. Because I’m not one. There’s nothing wrong with being attracted to a guy who happens to be wealthy. The two
