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“That doesn’t seem to fit you,” she said, shocking herself with the flirty tone that came out of her mouth. God, if she didn’t watch herself she’d be twirling her hair around her finger and batting her eyelashes like some giddy schoolgirl.
Get a grip, Livingston. He’s just a man...a hunky, incredibly well-defined, thrilling man.
He chuckled, the low sound rumbling deep as thunder. It made her skin tingle. “What gives you that impression?”
“Boy Scouts don’t usually have six-packs, do they?” Her tongue darted out involuntarily to moisten her lips.
What alien had taken over her body?
He didn’t seem in the least bit self-conscious of his near-naked state. Wren, on the other hand, might as well have been in her birthday suit for how exposed she felt. Funny, since the naked form appeared often in her artwork...but this didn’t compare with brushstrokes on a canvas. He was far too real, far too alight with sexual energy.
His eyes swept over her with a languid slowness, smoothing over her hips and breasts and hair. “No, I guess they don’t.”
“Can I offer you some dinner?” she blurted out. “I was making pizza when I cut myself and I’d like to thank you for coming to the rescue.”
“There’s no need to thank me. That’s what neighbors are for, right?”
At that moment she kind of hoped neighbors were for wild, hot, no-strings sex. “Please. I’m new and I’d love to have a friend in the building.”
“Well, when you put it that way.” He grinned and Wren was quite sure her panties were about to melt into a puddle at her feet. “I’d love to. Give me a few minutes to change and I’ll come over.”
“I’ll see you when you’re ready.” She returned his smile and headed back toward the front door, forcing herself not to bounce up and down with pent-up excitement.
It’s just a dinner, you goof. A friendly, neighborly meal between two adults. It doesn’t have to lead to orgasms.
But the throbbing between her legs would mark her a liar if she said she wasn’t already fantasizing about it. Rhys showed her out, his broad shoulders blocking the door frame as he waited for her to make it back inside her apartment. She risked a glance behind her as she stepped inside and he was still there, the heat in his gaze unmistakable.
A tremor ran through her, excitement and fear mixing in a strange, delicious medley of emotion. The fact that her body was reacting so strongly was a good sign. After what had happened in her hometown, the very thought of sex or nakedness had filled her with guilt and shame.
But now her blood was pumping through her veins hard and fast, her heart fluttering with anticipation. Tonight, she was going to shake off the past and have a little fun.
* * *
RHYS CONSIDERED HIMSELF a logical guy. Computers were his world and binary made him feel comfortable. Even the one-two pound of running appealed to his logical side. But right now a little part of him was enjoying the thrill of a situation outside his control.
And things could go wrong if he slept with Wren and it didn’t work out. They’d have to face each other in the hallway each day, making politely awkward small talk. There’d be guaranteed cringe-worthy moments if either one of them ever brought a date home and the other happened to see. The old Italian lady in 403 was also a huge gossip. Plus, there was a possibility that they wouldn’t be compatible in the bedroom.
“Who are you kidding, man?” he muttered to himself as he whipped off his towel and proceeded to get dressed. “There’s no way you have chemistry like that without it transferring to the bedroom.”
And, if his still-aching erection was anything to go on, his body wholeheartedly agreed. Besides, the only way he’d ever have the chance of finding the right woman was if he actually went on dates. And dinner counted as a date...didn’t it?
He pulled a fresh T-shirt over his head and fished out a pair of black boxer briefs from his bedside drawer. By the time he’d added jeans and sneakers to the mix, he’d also decided to take a bottle of wine with him.
When he knocked on her door, a thrill ran through him at the thought of seeing her again. Reality didn’t disappoint. She opened the door with a flourish and a tinkling laugh. Long blond waves tumbled over one shoulder, and she’d thrown an apron over her white tank and floor-length flowy skirt.
“Welcome to my humble abode,” she said, gesturing with a pair of tongs like a grand magician. “It’s a little sparse at the moment. But I can assure you my pizza will make up for it.”
“I have no doubt.” He stepped in and took in the surroundings, placing the wine down on the kitchen counter as she grabbed two glasses.
She hadn’t been kidding about it being sparse. Other than a small table with two chairs, a battered couch and an overturned cardboard box acting as a coffee table, the room was empty. He’d expected to at least see boxes with her belongings dotted around, but there wasn’t a single one in sight.
“It’s very...minimalist,” Wren said. She poured the wine and handed him a glass, holding her own out so they could clink them together.
The wine was good, not too sweet and not too dry. The flavor danced on his tongue, and he wondered what it would taste like on her lips. Her tongue. The fantasy rushed up, tracking along his muscles until his whole body felt coiled and tight.
This is what happens when you leave it too long between drinks.
“I’m not sure how long I’ll be staying,” she said. “So I didn’t want to waste money on getting lots of furniture.”
Disappointment stabbed at him, but he brushed the feeling aside. There was no sense worrying about the future of their relationship when they hadn’t even had one meal together. “Not sure if you’re a fan of New York yet?”
“It’s more that I’m not a fan of long-term decisions.”
He cleared his throat. “Where did you move from?”
“Somewhere you’ve probably never heard of.” She stuck the tongs in a large silver bowl filled with a colorful salad. “I’m a small-town girl.”
“Living in a lonely world?” he quipped.
She grinned. “I appreciate a man who knows his Journey lyrics. Sadly, my life is far less fabulous than the song would have you believe.”
“Is that why you moved to New York?” He leaned against the counter and inhaled the aromas of their dinner. Fresh basil, melting cheese, a hint of something spicy.
“I’m here for work.” Her answer was carefully worded. Guarded. “But it’s not a permanent position, which suits me fine.”
Message received, loud and clear.
But he still wanted to get to know her better, even with her line in the sand. Perhaps “not permanent” was exactly what he needed right now. No pressure, no expectations. Like a dry run for reentering the dating world.
He could always come back to his life plan later.
“Are you a New York native?” she asked.
“I moved from Connecticut a few years ago. I’ve always wanted to live here, enjoy the bright lights and all that.”
“Do you like it?” She whisked the salad dressing in a bowl, then plucked a teaspoon from a drawer to do a taste test.
“I do. Especially when I have such interesting neighbors.”
She smiled, her cheeks flushing a vibrant shade of rose pink. “You mean clumsy neighbors who can’t figure out how to slice an avocado without hurting themselves?”
“Same, same.”
She moved about the kitchen with ease, her long skirt swirling around her feet with each dance-like step. There was an airiness to her, a whimsy that was so different from the serious women he was usually attracted to. She bent to open the oven and heat wafted up into the air, carrying with it the scent of her cooking.
“That smells incredible.” His mouth was already watering, and he’d had some of the best pizza in all of New York. “Don’t tell me you’re a professional chef.”
“No, just an amateur one. But I did make the base from scratch.” She slid on an oven mitt and pulled out the tray containing their dinner. “I really enjoy cooking. It relaxes me...well, when I’m not cutting myself.”
“Tell me that doesn’t happen too often.”
“Thankfully it is a rare occurrence.” She placed the tray down on the stove and Rhys could see she was relying on her uninjured hand to hold the weight.
“Do you need a hand slicing it up?”
“No, I’ll be fine. If you could take the wine to the table, that would be great.”
Moments later they were seated, steaming slices of pizza resting on large white plates in front of them. But the way Wren looked at him made him hungry for something else. A sensual smile curved on her lips.
“Eat up,” she said, gesturing with her hands. “It’s best when it’s hot.”
“I like it hot,” he said, picking up the slice and blowing at the steam shimmering off the pizza’s surface.
“I can see that.”
“Are you flirting with me?” He bit into the pizza and moaned as the hot, cheesy goodness hit his tongue.
“What if I was?” She took a bite of her slice and flicked her tongue out to catch a stray droplet of sauce. “Are you open to a little neighborly flirting?”
She folded both of her feet under her so that she sat cross-legged on top of the chair, tangling the frothy layers of her skirt around her legs. Realizing that she was still wearing her apron, she reached behind herself and untied it. As she pulled the apron over her head, her tank top rode up, revealing a slice of lightly tanned skin and smooth, flat belly.
She scrambled to tug the fabric back down, her cheeks flushing, but Rhys carried on the conversation, pretending he hadn’t almost choked on his pizza. “Flirting is fine by me. In fact, I’ve been looking for someone to practice my flirting skills on.”
“Is that so?” She reached for her wine. “Are you a little rusty?”
“That’s for you to judge.”
“Go on, hit me with your best pickup line.” Her eyes sparkled and a smile twitched on her lips.
This was about to go downhill. Fast. Pickup lines weren’t really his style. In fact, he excelled at meeting women in unconventional ways...like having them turn up at his apartment, bleeding.
He shook his head, laughing, as he took another bite out of his pizza. “I prefer a more casual approach.”
She planted her fists on her waist and flapped her elbows up and down. “Buck, buck, buck.”
“You did not just call me chicken.” Damn, the girl had sass.
“Let me hear your line, then.” She grinned.
“Oh, you’re on.” He reached his arms above his head, making a show of stretching his neck from side to side. Her eyes skated over him, wide and stormy. “I don’t have a library card, but do you mind if I check you out?”
“No!” She roared, throwing her head back and letting out a burst of laughter that was belly deep and totally disarming. Totally and richly at odds with the rest of her dainty, fairylike appearance. “That’s terrible.”
“Are you a fruit, because honeydew you know how fine you look right now?”
She gasped. “I didn’t think it could get worse—”
“Are you a parking ticket? ’Cause you’ve got fine written all over you.”
“Please.” She held up a hand, her shoulders heaving as laughter spilled out of her. The sound warmed him from the inside out. “Stop.”
“Your body is sixty-five percent water and I’m thirsty.” He pretended to brush the dirt off his shoulders. “I could go all night.”
“Okay, okay. You win.” She clapped her hands together and bowed. “You are the king of the worst pickup lines I have ever had the misfortune of hearing.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Fair. I promise to listen to you next time.” She drained the rest of her wine and immediately topped them both up. “I’m curious now. How do you usually pick up women?”
“I’m a bit out of practice.” He figured honesty was the best policy. Besides, the last thing he wanted to do was talk about the sad state of his love life right now.
“Me, too.” She nodded to herself. “Looks like we’re in the same boat.”
Over the course of the next hour they finished the whole pizza and made a start on another bottle of wine. A delicious and languid feeling spread through him, loosening his limbs and his tongue. Maybe it was her incredible cooking, the good drink or some combination, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt as connected to another person as he did with Wren.
She unwound her legs and untangled her skirt, stretching her arms back and thrusting her breasts forward. His mouth watered as the fabric stretched, making it sheer enough that he could see the shadow of her nipples through the fabric.
Nope, that woman did not need to wear a bra at all.
* * *
“THANKS FOR SHARING the pizza with me,” she said, trying to sound casual. “I get a little excited when I cook and I always end up with way too much.”
“I’m open to helping you deal with any leftovers that might come up.” Rhys flashed another pearly white smile and Wren wondered how many times that smile had drawn women to him. “But let me at least do the dishes.”
“No way. You saved me from bleeding all over the building, trying to find bandages.” She held up a hand. “Dinner was my treat. The dishes can wait.”
“Well, thank you. It was delicious. You sure you’re really not a chef?”
“No, I’m an artist.” The words slipped out and brought with them an immediate sense of guilt. “Well, what I mean to say is that I work in a gallery.”
“That’s not what you said.” His dark eyes scanned her face, curiosity obviously piqued. “You called yourself an artist.”
Shit. She’d been so desperate to have that title for so many years that clearly the idea still floated around in her brain like a piece of flotsam waiting to trip her up. Being an artist was no longer her dream. And after she finished using her art as a cover to find out what happened to Kylie, it would be out of her life for good.
“I dabble,” she said eventually, waving a hand as if to dismiss the idea.
“What sort of art?”
She swallowed against the lump in her throat. “Painting.”
“I’m always fascinated by artists. I look at a painting and have no clue how the inspiration would have come to them, or how they would even know where to start.” He shook his head in wonderment and it was like a knife twisting in her chest.
Years of her life had been devoted to the inspiration that had clogged her head. More years had been spent perfecting her technique, channeling her passion. Years that were now a total waste.
“What do you do?” she asked, desperate to steer the conversation away from the part of her life she wanted to leave behind.
“I’m in IT for a security company. It’s like getting to solve a giant puzzle every day.” He laughed. “Nerdy but true.”
