They fell into step again, Ben still chuckling to himself and Maggie apparently using silence as punishment for his amusement. He wondered how she’d react if he told her he viewed her silence as a reward. If he told her she was the first woman who didn’t chatter his ear off. Or coddle him. Or try to seduce him to further her own ambitions.
Not that he didn’t like being seduced. Every now and then, however, he liked the challenge of doing the seducing himself, a rare feat, considering most women were ready to fuck him before he even asked. Hell, these days he didn’t even have to ask.
“This is it,” Maggie said, finally breaking the drawn-out silence as they came to a stop in front of an older-looking high-rise with large balconies.
She used a key to get into the lobby, then headed for the elevator without looking back to see if he was following. It was kinda cute, the way she pretended she was doing him a favor by letting him come home with her. He knew better, of course. The way she’d trembled against him during the kiss they’d shared earlier proved the attraction between them was so very mutual.
“So how long have you lived here?” he asked casually as they stepped into the elevator car.
Maggie shot him a dirty look. “Don’t make small talk.”
Taken aback, he said, “Why not?”
“Because you’re only wasting time.” The doors opened with a loud buzzing noise, and Maggie whisked out of the car, over her shoulder adding, “Neither of us has any illusions about why you’re here.”
Again her words startled him, so much so that the elevator nearly closed on his toes. He pushed forward before the doors shut and hurried after Maggie. Another first, having to chase after a woman.
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” He caught up to her right as she unlocked the door to her apartment and strolled in.
“It means we both know how this night is going to end,” she replied, mocking him with his earlier words.
Any other time Ben would have had a sexy comeback, but the second he entered Maggie’s apartment, he became speechless.
“This is where you live?” he asked, gaping.
“Yeah. Is there a problem?”
There wasn’t a problem, per se, but Ben certainly hadn’t expected these surroundings. If he hadn’t seen Maggie unlock the door, he would’ve thought they were in the wrong apartment.
The place looked like somebody’s grandmother lived in it. Furniture, mostly plaid upholstery, all mismatched. The paintings on the wall depicted bland landscapes and the occasional kitten rolling around in a garden. Frilly pink tablecloths and doilies that looked handmade covered every table in the room, and Ben had to blink a few times to be sure, but he thought he saw photos of Cary Grant and a young Marlon Brando hanging over the television set.
The only item in the apartment that resembled anything modern was the steel drum sitting in the open-concept dining room, but he couldn’t quite figure that out either.
When he finished his wide-eyed scrutiny, he glanced over and saw the humor dancing in Maggie’s green eyes.
“C’mon, say it,” she taunted.
“What?”
“How tacky it is. We both know you want to say it.”
He might’ve been living in Hollywood for the last ten years of his life, but he’d grown up in Ohio with a mother who’d instilled good manners in him. “It’s not tacky,” he lied, hoping his tone sounded polite. “Did you decorate it yourself?”
Laughter bubbled out of her delicate throat. “Wow. Did you learn the art of bullshitting from the film industry or does it just come naturally to you?”
“What? No, I think this place is really something.”
She laughed again, louder this time. “Relax, Ben. I didn’t decorate it. My roommate, Summer, her grandmother owns this place. When she moved, she made Summer promise not to change a thing.”
His ears perked. “You have a roommate?”
Maggie’s amused expression quickly transformed into another frown. “Summer’s gone for the week—and she has a boyfriend. So wipe any notion of a threesome out of your head.”
How was it humanly possible that she kept catching him off-guard like this?
His nostrils flared as he pondered the best way to respond. Screw good manners. A remark like that merited nothing less than irate indignation.
“You really don’t think much of me, do you?” he returned, steel in his voice.
“I don’t even know you.” Apparently she was just as capable of steely tones.
“You’re right, you don’t.” Eyes narrowing, he added, “The reason I asked about your roommate is because I wanted to make sure we’d be alone.”
“Well, we are.” She crossed her arms over her chest and sighed. “So let’s just do this, okay?”
“Do what?”
“Let’s have sex.”
“No thanks.” He unzipped his jacket and shrugged it off his shoulders. “So, should I sleep on the couch or is there a spare room?”
“Excuse me?” She dropped her arms and let them dangle at her sides. “Did you just say ‘no thanks’?”
He tossed his jacket on a nearby armchair. “That’s right, I did.”
When he met her gaze, she had the gall to look confused. “You don’t want to have sex?”