I chuckled. “I suppose so.”
“Although something tells me you’ll do the same. I can tell…you’re good for him.”
“You think? We’re sort of opposites in a lot of ways.”
“Doesn’t matter. It’s what’s inside of you both that counts.”
“Thanks, Mrs. M…Lil.”
I stayed for longer than my lunch hour, enjoying Lil telling me about the characters on her soap opera. The storylines were so far-fetched, I couldn’t stop thinking about Graham watching them—he was so stern and pragmatic. When I went to leave, Lil took my hand.
“He’s a good man. Fiercely loyal and loves his family. Very protective of his heart. But once he gives it, he doesn’t take it back.”
“Thank you.”
“You can fix the rest. Pry the stick out of his ass and hit him over the head with it a few times. He’s smart. He’ll figure it out real quick.”
“Now that, I can do.”
***
GRAHAM WASN’T HOME WHEN I ARRIVED at his condo. Blackie met me at the door, springing up and down like a little crazy dog.
“Hey, Buddy.” I lifted him, and he proceeded to lick my face. I still couldn’t get over the fact that Mr. Big Prick had a small fluffy white dog. “Looks like it’s just you and me for a little while.”
I looked around the large open space. Aside from Blackie’s panting, it was eerily quiet. The last two times I had been here, the tour had pretty much been limited to the inside of Graham’s pants, so I used the time to snoop a bit.
The condo was stunning. No doubt it was professionally decorated—cool grays and sleek silver gave the place a bachelor feel. It could have been featured in GQ, with the owner standing in the middle of the open space, his arms folded across his chest. But as beautiful as it was, it was missing something. Personality. There was no hint to who lived here.
Curious, I wandered into the living room. There was an oversized sectional facing a large, flat screen TV hanging on the wall. Beneath it was a sleek black cabinet. It took me a minute to figure out how to open it without any handles. Inside was a DVD collection. Caddyshack, Happy Gilmore, Anchorman.
Huh.
I kept browsing, moving up to the next shelf. Glory, Gettysburg, Gangs of New York.
Hmmm.
Make up your mind, Morgan.
I ventured into the kitchen. The refrigerator was a vast smorgasbord of takeout containers. And…three containers of Nesquik strawberry milk.
Huh.
In the bedroom, I eyed the nightstand. Checking out his DVD collection and the contents of his fridge was one thing, but invading his bedside table would really be crossing a line. I looked around the room for something else to check out. It was pretty barren—no pictures, no folded pieces of paper on top of the dresser from emptying his pockets the day before. My eyes narrowed in on that nightstand again.
“No,” I said out loud to myself.
I lifted Blackie up over my head, and we had a talk. “It would be wrong of me to go through Graham’s drawer, wouldn’t it, little buddy?”
He stuck his tongue out and licked my nose.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
Inside the walk-in closet seemed more like Graham J. Morgan. Suits lined one side, mostly dark. An obscene amount of dress shirts lined the other. Everything was neat and organized.
Boring.
I walked back into the bedroom, my eyes falling immediately back on the nightstand. The damn thing was haunting me. “Maybe just one peek.” I stroked Blackie, who was still in my arms. He purred at me. Dogs purr? A purr would be the human equivalent to a yes, wouldn’t it?
Just one little peek…I won’t even move anything.
Walking to the drawer, I slid it open with my pointer finger. Inside was a black velvet satchel, a clear bottle of something that could be lubricant—although the label was facing down, and an unopened box of condoms.
Okay…so maybe I needed to move one or two things.
“You think there’s something good in that bag, buddy?” I was speaking to Blackie again.
But it wasn’t Blackie that answered.
“I know there’s something good in that bag.” Graham’s deep voice scared the shit out of me. I jumped, my arms jerking upward sent Blackie sailing into the air. Luckily, he landed on the bed right side up.
“You scared the hell out of me.” My hand clutched at my chest.
Graham stood in the doorway leaning casually against one side. “You were so engrossed in your snooping, that you didn’t hear me come in.”
“I wasn’t snooping.”
Graham arched an eyebrow.
“I wasn’t.”
“So I must have left the drawer wide open this morning?”
I folded my arms over my chest. “Guess so.”
He chuckled and walked to the table, sliding the drawer closed. “Well, if I left it open this morning and you weren’t snooping, then you probably don’t want to know what’s in the bag.”
“Not in the least.”
“Shame.”
“Why? What’s in the bag?”
“Kiss me.”
“Will you tell me what’s in the bag?”