Why Not Tonight (Happily Inc. #3)

CHAPTER EIGHT

GOING OUT IN the relatively cool night did little to tamp down Ronan’s desire. Just having Natalie next to him in his truck was enough to get him going again. But he was determined to get through the meal without acting like some horny kid who couldn’t keep it in his pants.

She tucked the big bag of takeout next to her feet and grinned at him. “I’m starving.”

Her smile was infectious, her air of sexual satisfaction gratifying. He liked knowing he’d pleased her. More than pleased her, he thought smugly.

“Just to be clear, I know that wasn’t baby sex,” she said as he drove back to her place.

Shock nearly had him driving into a tree. “What?”

“From the app. It wasn’t at all and I just wanted you to know.”

That damned app. He’d totally forgotten about it. “Thanks for the share.”

“Don’t be grumpy. You would have thought of it eventually and totally freaked out.”

“I don’t freak out.”

“Have you seen you? Because you do. But it’s okay. I like you, anyway.”

A baby. Damn. She knew how to break a mood. Not that he didn’t still want her, but the need was about 20 percent less intense.

They arrived back at her place. He carried the food upstairs and waited while she unlocked the door. This time he got a good look at her apartment, only to grin when his gaze settled on the lamp sitting on the floor by the entry table. He carefully put it back in place, then glanced around.

The floor plan was surprisingly open. Living room, eating area and kitchen were basically one big room. She’d painted each of the walls a different color, which should have been chaotic, but was surprisingly pleasing to the eye. The door and window trim was uniformly pale lavender. Her living room sofa was oversize and done in a neutral medium brown, and the area rug pulled together all the colors.

Paintings and mixed-media pieces were everywhere. Some he recognized as her work; others were from artists he didn’t know.

He carried the food to the kitchen and put it on the counter.

“There’s wine in a rack in the entry closet,” she said as she collected plates and flatware. “Don’t worry. It’s stuff you and your brothers have given me.”

“I trust your taste in wine,” he said as he opened the closet and saw all the bottles Natalie had been given over the past couple of years. Bottles that celebrated sales of her work or her birthday.

“You might trust my taste but you’d wince at my wine budget,” she said with a laugh when they met up in the kitchen. She showed him where the corkscrew was and pointed to the location of the wineglasses.

After opening the bottle, he carried it and two glasses to the small dining table by the window. She’d already set out plates, which he recognized as his brother’s design. But these were mismatched and obviously bought at Mathias’s semiannual sale where his “mistakes” were offered at discount prices.

He poured wine while she opened cartons of Chinese food. The smell made his mouth water and reminded him he’d missed dinner.

“I already like what you chose,” he told her.

She grinned. “There’s plenty of garlic, but I have a spare toothbrush I’m willing to let you have.”

He chuckled. “You’re on.”

They sat across from each other, with her facing the kitchen and him facing the living room. It was only then he noticed a blown-glass piece on a shelf in the corner.

It was a swirl of color—all blues and lavenders with a touch of gold. What was supposed to have been a vase had collapsed into a molten mess. He tried to remember when that had happened—maybe a year ago. Before the swan/dragon commission for sure.

He remembered being frustrated that something so simple had eluded him. He would have left the disaster to cool before tossing it. Natalie must have taken it instead.

“What are you—” Her expression turned rueful as she wrinkled her nose. “Yes, I have to confess to taking that. But you were going to throw it out and I thought it was beautiful the way it was. I didn’t think you’d mind. Oh, I asked Atsuko first and she said it was fine.”

“I don’t mind, but why that one?” He had a storeroom full of pieces. She could have any of them.

She looked at him. “Seriously? That’s your question. Hmm, let me think. Because I don’t have three hundred thousand dollars to buy one of your quote real unquote pieces.”

“I’d be happy to give you one. All you have to do is ask. You could pick whatever you’d like.”

She didn’t look the least bit impressed by his offer. “No. I appreciate it, but no. I’d be too tempted to sell it and finance myself for the next sixteen or seventeen years and it would be wrong to sell anything a friend gave me, so I would be torn and I don’t need that kind of negative energy in my life.”

She wasn’t like anyone he’d ever known. He found himself wanting to offer her half his storeroom to sell and live off of, or keep—whatever she wanted. He had a ridiculous urge to create a grant and secretly fund her artwork.

He looked at her brightly colored apartment. Earlier, when he’d used the bathroom, he’d noticed that she’d made the master bedroom her art studio and that she slept in the smaller bedroom. She struggled financially every single day. Not that she was starving but he would bet there were months when it was tough to pay all the bills. And yes, she could work more hours and have a little extra cash in her wallet, but that would mean giving up her art, and with Natalie creating, the world was a much more wonderful place.

She passed him cartons. They both loaded their plates and began to eat. They talked about what was happening in town and who might have won the Latice tournament. When they were done, Ronan poured them more wine.

“I’d like to stay,” he told her. “Tonight. If that’s all right.”

She studied him for a second. Emotions flashed through her eyes. He had no idea what she was thinking but the little curve at the corner of her mouth told him it probably wasn’t bad.

Anticipation slammed into him as he again imagined her on top. Natalie was surprisingly uninhibited in bed—or maybe not. She did pretty much everything with total abandon—why not sex?

“We should probably talk about the elephant in the room, then,” she said.

The... “What elephant?” One second too late, he thought of the baby app and nearly came out of his chair.

“You’ll want ground rules. You don’t want them in your art, but when it comes to your personal life, you like things tidy.”

“How did you know that?” he asked, wondering if he sounded as relieved as he felt. As for the rules, he never much thought about it, but she was right.

“I see things.” She picked up her wineglass. “I vote for fun without anything getting too serious. You can’t lie to me and you can’t cheat, and when it’s done, just tell me.”

“Yes, and the same from you.”

She laughed. “I’ve never cheated.”

“I haven’t, either.”

“But you’ve broken up with women before. I’ve never done that.”

He grinned. “You’ve probably never dated a woman.”

The laugh returned. “Good point. Oh, and it’s okay with me if we don’t tell anyone.”

That surprised him. “You don’t want anyone to know?”

“I’m fine with people knowing. You’re the one who keeps your personal life private.”

Before he could react to that particular truth, she stood, pulled off her T-shirt and her bra, walked over to his chair and straddled him, then put his hands on her breasts.

“We can keep talking,” she said as she pressed her lips to his jaw. “Or not. You pick.”

“I pick not.”

“Oh, good.”

*