The cat pounced. “Right. Both it is.”
But a knock at the door delayed her sushi purchase. Honky Tonk went shooting under the couch, and she wished she could join him.
It was probably her creepy landlord who’d left, like, a half dozen “notice of entry” letters over the past week. Something about checking the screens on the windows. Naturally he would wait until seven o’clock on a Friday night.
“Better make it quick, Don,” she said, setting her phone aside and checking the peephole.
It wasn’t her landlord.
Luc.
Ava’s stomach gave a little flip as she remembered the last time he’d stood on the other side of her door.
She didn’t want a repeat of that kiss.
Did she?
“Sims, as a cop, I commend your safety precaution, but think you could open up now that you know it’s me?” he said to the peephole.
Right.
She opened the door.
He gave a little blink of surprise as he looked her over. “This is a new look.”
Too late, she remembered that she was in Friday Frumpy mode. Luc, on the other hand, looked delicious. His cargo shorts were a nod to the unseasonably hot day, and the white T-shirt stretched perfectly across his shoulders.
“I wasn’t expecting visitors,” she said, resisting the urge to smooth her lumpy ponytail.
He held up his right hand, which was holding a small red binder.
“Ah!” she said in delight. “My planner. I’ve been looking everywhere for it! Why do you have it?”
“Found it on my coffee table,” he said, handing it to her.
She frowned. “But I didn’t take it out of my bag when we were filming at your place yesterday.”
He tilted his head slightly and gave her a look.
“Ah,” she said with a smile. “Nonna.”
“Yup. Gotta give her credit for matchmaking balls, if not originality.”
“You didn’t have to bring it all the way over here,” she said, leaning against the door. “I could have gotten it at the precinct on Monday.”
He shrugged. “Gave me a chance to get out of the house. Anthony has female company. This one’s lasted a whole week, and she’s um, noisy.”
“Ah, gotcha.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to invite him in but he was already taking a step backward, and she doubted a night of sushi and TV appealed to him.
“Well thanks again for bringing it by,” she said, setting the planner on the console table by the door.
“Any time, Sims.”
Neither of them moved.
Common sense was demanding that she close the door. Hormones were demanding something very different.
“You know, the last time we were in this position, things were a lot more interesting,” she said.
Common sense: 0.
Hormones: 1.
The flare of heat in his eyes showed he didn’t mistake her meaning, but instead of a repeat performance of The Kiss, he tensed up, his face losing its easy expression.
Oh. Shit.
He was about to reject her. Not that she could blame him. She wasn’t exactly in sex-kitten getup, and the man had to spend most of his workdays with her.
Why would he want to spend his days off with her as well?
“Sorry,” she said, rushing to give him an easy out. “You don’t have to say anything, I just—”
“Sims.”
She broke off at the gruffness in his voice. “Yeah?”
Wordlessly he reached out a hand, grabbing a fistful of her tank top and yanking her forward. Hard.
Then his mouth was on hers, and her body responded instantly, arching against him as her hands fisted in his hair.
She sought his tongue with her own, smiling in gratification when he groaned and tightened his grip on her shirt. He held her still for long moments as his mouth explored hers, both of them oblivious to the fact that they were standing in her apartment hallway.
Ava lifted to her toes to get closer, and his other hand moved to her back, pressing her against him as their lips melded, their tongues exploring.