“See?” She waved a hand. “You can see the whole thing from right here. Except the bathroom, of course, but it’s pretty standard. Sink. Shower. Toothbrush. All that bathroom-type stuff.”
She was nervous. It wasn’t really a nervous babble that gave her away, because she was a talker all the time, but he could sense it in her. It surprised him because she was always so confident and he hadn’t guessed having a man in her apartment would throw her off.
“It’s warm in here,” he said, setting the basket of fake flowers on the floor next to the door.
“I have one of those programmable thermostats and I’m usually working this time of night. I sit still most of the time, so I have it set a little warmer. I’m going to go wash this crap off my face. I don’t have any decaf, but I have hot cocoa cups for the brewer, if you want one.”
He wandered a little while she was in the bathroom, not being too nosy, but wanting a feel for her home. Despite what she’d said when they entered, it wasn’t messy. It suffered from a lack of closets and storage spaces, so more of her belongings were out than his, but she was tidy and he’d guess there was a method to her organization.
Especially at her desk. While the blue couch and the battered wooden coffee table, and maybe even the bed, were hand-me-downs or thrift store finds, she’d spared no expense on the massive L-shaped desk. Nor the computer equipment that covered half of it. He had no idea what it all did, since his technical ability was limited to making his laptop do invoicing, email, research and being Facebook friends with his family so he could see photos of his nephews. He noticed the only photograph on display in her apartment was a picture of her and Hailey stuck on the fridge with a magnet.
He brewed them each a mug of hot cocoa. He wouldn’t drink very much of his because of the caffeine content, but she’d given him an opening to stay longer and he was taking it.
When she came out of the bathroom, he didn’t choke off his laughter in time. She’d scrubbed her face clean of the soot, and her hair was brushed out. She’d lost the hat, robe and—judging by the bare feet and ankles—the wool underwear. That left her in the billowing white dress. Or nightgown. He wasn’t sure how that garment had started its life.
“Ha, ha.” She rolled her eyes.
“You’re like the heroine of an old gothic novel.”
“If you go get your Hannibal Lecter mask, we could film an indie horror movie.” When he shifted, intending only to show her the mugs of hot cocoa, she held up her hand. “I was kidding.”
“I made cocoa.”
The mug lured her back into arm’s reach, but he didn’t touch her. He could smell the soap she’d used to wash her face, combined with a faint smoky smell that probably lingered in the dress from the fire.
Tori picked up the mug and took several sips, but she didn’t carry it to the couch or step away with it. She put it back on the counter, though her hands remained curled around the warm ceramic.
“Did you have fun tonight?” she asked, tilting her face up to look at him.
“It was one of the most fun nights of my life.”
“You need to get out more if hanging out in the cold, watching dressed-up ATVs is a highlight.”
“I think it was the company.”
The blush across her freshly scrubbed cheeks made his pulse quicken and he turned so he could put his hand on her waist. The blush darkened and he moved closer, so their bodies were almost touching.
Bending his head, he brushed his cheek over hers, feeling her breath in hot bursts near his ear. “I want to kiss you.”
“That’s such a bad idea.”
She hadn’t pulled away, though. “Why?”
“None of this—especially tonight—is part of the plan.”
“There’s a plan?”
“We’re supposed to be finding you a wife.”
“Oh, that plan. I’ve lived this long without one. I can wait a little while longer.”
She put her hand against his chest. “Define a little while.”
“However long this takes.”
“This?”
“Every time I look at a woman’s mouth, I wonder what it would be like to kiss you. Every time I think about having a woman in my life, I wonder what it would be like to spend a night with you. I’m not going to make any forward progress until I stop looking at women and thinking about you.”
She relaxed her arm a little, but the hand against his chest was still resistance and not a caress.
“I’m tired of fighting this, Max. I want you and I’ve tried not to because it’s not fair to you, but I’m not going to say no tonight. But you need to know that I might let you sweep me off my feet tonight, but they’ll be firmly planted on the ground again tomorrow.”
“I know where I stand.” He thought he actually knew better than she did, but if he pushed, she was going to push back. As in pushing him right out the door.