He glanced down at her bags. “Let me guess. High heels and tight dresses?”
“Don’t forget yoga pants,” she said as she took the bags to her bedroom and dropped them on her bed.
She hadn’t bought yoga pants, but mentioning them reminded her that as much as she loved her cute pink dress, comfortable it was not. And the high heels were pinching in about six different places.
A couple of minutes later she wandered back into the kitchen in cropped yoga pants and an oversized, off-the-shoulder purple sweatshirt.
“You know I’m immune to those now,” he said, not looking up from where he was stirring something with a wooden spoon that she thought might have been hers but which she’d never put to much use. “I’ve rethought my position, and those do nothing for your ass.”
She smiled as she plopped on the barstool and pulled on warm, fuzzy gray socks. “No? That’s good. Considering they’re my default at-home pants and we’re roommates, I’d hate for you to be made uncomfortable by any sort of attraction.” Taylor sat up straighter to peer into the pot. “Whatcha making?”
“Mushroom cream sauce. Throwing a pasta dish together.”
“Most people’s idea of throwing a pasta dish together is dumping a jar of tomato sauce in a pot to heat it and them pouring the whole thing on top of overcooked spaghetti.”
“I have two kitchen specialties. That’s my other one,” he said as he used a knife to scoop up some sort of chopped herb and drop it into the pot.
“Who taught you to cook?”
“My mom. This was one of her holiday/birthday meals, because it takes more time. With five kids, most nights involved a casserole or Hamburger Helper type of thing as she tried to juggle meals, soccer practice, ballet—”
“Bet you were an adorable ballerina,” she said, propping her chin on her hands and batting her eyelashes.
He gave her a ha look.
“Five kids, huh? Where do you rank?”
“Second oldest by two years. We’re all two years apart.”
“Brothers? Sisters?”
“Two of each.”
“You close?”
He lifted a shoulder. “Yeah. Sure. No feuds, minimal drama.” He grabbed a spoon, tasted the sauce, then added more salt.
“Do they live around here?”
He looked up. “What’s with the questions lately? You’ve been…nice all week. Highly suspicious, Carr.”
She simply waited.
“I grew up in Bend, Oregon. Parents are still there, as are the brothers and one of my sisters. My baby sister married a guy from the Bay Area; they settled in San Jose,” he said, setting the spoon on a plate by the stove. “Wine?”
Taylor nodded, watching as he opened a bottle of red and poured two glasses.
“We should get you an apron.”
“We should not get me an apron,” he said, handing her a glass.
He started to take a sip, but Taylor lifted her glass in a toast.
He shrugged and clinked his glass with hers. “What’s this for?”
“To the best week ever.”
“Yeah, I noticed you’ve been unusually sunshiny lately,” he observed.
“Hey, where’d you disappear to?” she asked, ignoring his implied question about her good mood. “I haven’t seen you in the office since that morning last week.”
“I don’t work there full-time, remember? I came in for a meeting with Cassidy, talked Super Bowl predictions with Penelope and Cole, then went to a coffee shop to write. Been busy since.”
“Oh.” She took a sip of wine.
“Taylor.”
“What?”
“Did you miss the part where I said I had two sisters? I think I know an oh when I hear one.”
“It’s nothing.”
He gave the pot another stir, then set the spoon aside once more, coming around from behind the counter, leaning a hip against the granite, and giving her an impatient look. “Spit it out, Carr.”
“Fine,” she said primly. “I thought maybe you disappeared that day because I walked off to that meeting with Bradley.”
Nick lifted his red wine to his lips. “Why would I care about that?”
“Because you hate him?”
“I don’t hate anybody. I just think he’s a douchebag. But he’s always been a douchebag. Doesn’t mean I’m going to go dashing out of the office like a princess every time we cross paths.”
“Our meeting was work related. Mostly,” Taylor said, ignoring his evasions.
“And again, I care because…?”
She bit her lip and stood, taking a step closer.
“You’ve said before that I should get over him.”
“I have.” He took another sip of wine, brown eyes revealing nothing.
She frowned a little, because he was being either dense or difficult.
“Well, I am. Over him,” Taylor said, taking a tiny step closer.
She let her eyes drift over his broad shoulders and tapered waist. Then lower.
It was deliberate. An invitation.
But when her eyes retraced their steps back up to his face, her ego experienced an uncomfortable little slap.
He was laughing at her.
Not guffawing, but there was no mistaking the grin or the knowing look in his eyes.
“That’s how you thought this was going to work?” he asked. “You tell me you you’re done with your ex, and I fall all over myself at the chance to get in your pants?”
“But—”
Nick set his glass aside, then stepped closer to her. “Here’s the thing, Carr. You’re too damn used to getting what you want when you want it. You think that because you’re smart and gorgeous, you’re irresistible.”
Stung, she started to take a step back, but he reached out and grabbed her chin firmly between his thumb and forefinger. “Hold on, not done. You think I want you, and you’re damn right. I want you badly.”
Her body filled with heat, but his next words cooled her slightly.
“But not like this,” he said gruffly. “Remember what I told you that night at the bar? You always have a plan. An agenda. Right now your agenda is me, and that’s not how I do things.”
Taylor swallowed. His eyes were hot, and she was dangerously close to begging him to show her how he did do things.
How he’d do her.
“So then…what? We just ignore this?” Taylor managed to ask, gesturing between them.
His thumb brushed along her jaw thoughtfully. “When you come to my bed, I want it to be because it’s me. Not because I’m not Callaway.”
“I told you, I’m over—”
“Over him. Yeah, I heard you. Prove it.”
“How?”
He pressed his thumb over her lips, just once, then let his arm drop. “One month. If in one month you still want me to fuck you, I’ll do it any way you want.”
Taylor’s mouth was dry. “A month. What do we do until then?”
He smiled, putting his hands on her hips to nudge her backward before patting her ass playfully. “Let’s take it one step at a time. For now, how about some dinner?”
Her mouth dropped open as he moved back behind the stove, looking completely unperturbed by their discussion. Meanwhile, every part of her was tingling. Yearning.
He dunked a spoon into the sauce and held it out for her to taste.
“I really do hate you,” she muttered, leaning forward to sip the delicious sauce directly from the spoon.
Nick only grinned.
Chapter 16