It really was a spectacular place—floor-to-ceiling windows highlighting the open and airy space, paired with just the right amount of sleek yet comfortable furniture and décor to make it feel cozy.
I loved his apartment, and it definitely fit him like a glove. And if I was being honest, it made me a little jealous on those now rare occasions when I wasn’t at his place that I was still living inside Bill and Janet’s humble abode. With my mother’s meddling and insane work-out routine and my father’s obnoxious music habits, their apartment was starting to feel smaller than a sardine tin—in reality, in New York, it was palatial.
“Let me be the first to welcome you to our first official date,” he said with a gallant sweep of his arm and a smirk once we’d entered the living room.
“This isn’t our first date,” I disagreed with a quirk of my brow. Ever since I’d admitted how jealous I was, Will had become persistent with this whole first official date thing.
Considering we’d been nearly attached at the hip since the night of our real first date, it was a bit insane. I mean, it was an infrequent occurrence when I didn’t stay the night at his place. Hell, I’d even started keeping extra clothes and underwear in his closet.
But he’d been preparing for this night since Wednesday, after Marlene had tried to convince me toast and a pickle was an actual lunch option. And since Will wasn’t on call this weekend, once the work clock struck five p.m., he instructed me to head to my parents’ apartment, get ready, and be at his apartment at seven on the dot.
“Okay… It’s our first official date as a couple.”
I wasn’t sure that was true either. But our real first date had been wildly above the national average, so if he wanted to use that as his basis for all future encounters, I wasn’t going to complain.
“Whatever you say, Doc.” I shrugged, and Will smirked his satisfaction.
I followed his lead into the kitchen and set my purse down on the counter while he busied himself at the stove. “So, what’s on the agenda for tonight?”
Will glanced over his shoulder while he stirred a white cream sauce inside a pot on the burner. “I’m wining and dining my favorite lady.”
I silently hoped said wining and dining included foreplay and Will’s penis.
His eyes searched mine studiously, and when all of my cues finally clicked together into a complete puzzle, a sexy smile eased its way across his full lips. “Oh, don’t worry, there’ll be time for that, too.”
Good lord, he was getting good at reading me.
“Lots and lots of time,” he added, and I felt my cheeks heat up from the intensity of his gaze.
“Stop looking at me like that. You’re making me blush,” I said and put my hands to my face to hide my pink cheeks.
“Eh,” he muttered. “Not likely. I love your blush. It doesn’t happen often anymore, but when it does, it drives me fucking crazy. If just this look does it for you, you can expect me to be giving it to you for the next one hundred years,” he said with a soft smile before turning his focus back toward the stove.
And while he stood there with his back to me, relaxed and calm and finishing up dinner, I froze in my tracks. His words might as well have been jumper cables, sparking a fast and steady pounding inside of my chest. The next one hundred years?
Whoa.
Whoa.
Whoa.
That was the first time Will had ever referred to us in a future tense like that, and I wasn’t sure which was more potent—the way those words made me feel or how badly I wanted them to be true.
Jesus Christ, what was happening to me? We hadn’t even exchanged I love yous, and my heart seemed intent on keeping Will for the long haul. Not just the long haul. You want to keep him forever…
“I hope you’re in the mood for Italian.” The crisp cadence of his voice snapped me out of my shocked trance, and while he moved toward the sink to drain pasta from the big pot in his hands, I ran two, now sweaty, palms down my dress in an attempt to pull my shit together.
I know, I know. Sweaty palms. Supergross, right?
I can’t help it, though. I always get sweaty when I’m stressed or anxious or like right now, internally freaking the fuck out.
Holy mahogany-bound books and cigars, I needed to take a deep breath and try not to ruin the night by acting like a weirdo. I was afraid I’d do something extreme like sprint out of his apartment or get on my knees and propose marriage.
Yeah, don’t do that. Calm down. Act natural. Say something normal. Anything normal…
“Uh… Is that garlic bread I smell?” I asked, and Will winked in my direction as he moved back toward the stove.
“Uh-huh.”
Yeah. That’s good. Talk about the food. You love food.
“And Alfredo sauce and uh…cheese?”
“Yep.”
I moved closer to the stove and peered over his shoulder as he finished up heating the sauce. “Either you’re trying to kill me with carbs or win my heart.”
Too late for that. He’s already won your heart.
Internally, I sighed and wished my brain would just shut up for two fucking minutes.
Will turned around and pulled me into his arms. “It’s the latter,” he said and pressed a smacking kiss to my lips. “Which is why I also picked up a cherry cheesecake from that bakery by the office you love so much.”
“I don’t love it that much…”
I totally did. It was a sweet-treat lover’s heaven, and I’d contemplated putting my application in to work part time just so I could spend a few hours a week smelling and staring at the pastries.
He grinned and lifted me onto the counter near the stove. He fit his large frame between my spread legs before I had a chance to protest. I watched as he slid two long fingers up my thighs and rested his hands at the hem of my dress.
“You’re a little liar,” he whispered into my ear. “I’ve watched you bring in donuts and cookies and cupcakes from that little bakery no less than three times a week.”
“I do that because I’m being nice…for the staff…” I lied and he laughed softly.
“Uh-huh,” he said with his lips pressed against my neck. “I guess that explains why you always take your favorites out before you share with anyone else.”
“Jesus, you’re nosy,” I muttered. “Who are you? The pastry police?”
“I also know that you’ve been sneaking patient numbers into your phone so that you can call them outside of office hours.”
My face fell in panic. How did he know that?
“How…I didn’t…” I stuttered as I tried to figure out what to say.