name a few. Her collection was extensive, going back to some classic 45s and collector’s items album covers.
The sparkling wood floors were dotted with oversized pillows, low tables and standing plants. Rather than curtains or blinds in the windows, they were covered with hanging philodendrons.
But her bedroom was truly her sanctuary. Her queensized bed with its downy pillow-top mattress took up much of the small space. But it was truly fit for a queen. To conserve room, she had her flat screen television mounted on the wall. The one great amenity was the walk-in closet that housed her extensive wardrobe, another one of her addictions—clothes.
That brought to mind these new living arrangements. How was she going to get along without her music and all of her clothes and shoes? Sighing she tugged off her cropped sweater and put it in the bag for the cleaner.
She sat down on the foot of the bed and pulled off her ankle boots, just as her cell phone began to ring. She pulled it from the case on her hip and frowned at the unfamiliar number. She pressed the talk icon.
“Hello?”
“Hi. Ashley?”
The low timbre shimmied up her spine. “Who is this?”
“Sorry. It’s E—uh, Elliot Morgan.”
Her heart bumped against her chest. She cleared her throat. “Oh,” was all she could sputter as she tried to get her brain to catch up with the fact that he was on the phone.
“Look, I know I was being a jerk earlier today. And we, uh, probably got off on the wrong foot.”
Her brows rose in surprise. “Probably,” she teased and could almost see a smile on his face. She crossed her legs.
“So I was thinking that before we do this live-in thing maybe we should try to get to know each other…first.”
“Meaning?”
“Have you had dinner?”
“No, I haven’t.” She swallowed over the sudden knot in her throat.
“Can I interest you in dinner?”
What the hell! Was he asking her out on a date? Her pulsed pounded and her thoughts short-circuited.
“Hey, maybe that was a bad idea. Guess I’ll see you on moving—”
“No. I’m sorry. You just caught me off guard. Dinner. Sure.”
“I can pick you up in about an hour. Is that enough time?”
Her eyes widened even further. A real date. “Okay.” She started to give him her address.
“I already have it. In the file,” he added by way of explanation.
“If Jean is nothing else, she’s thorough. I’ll see you in an hour.”
“Right.” He hung up.
Ashley sat with the phone in her hand for a good two minutes mesmerized by what had transpired. Maybe the “real” Elliot Morgan would show up at dinner. She shook her head, her spiral curls and twists dancing on her head. Taking a quick look at her watch, she hopped up from her bed and began peeling off her clothes as she darted for the shower.
After numerous wardrobe changes, she’d finally settled on elegantly casual. She selected a pair of black straight-legged jeans, a pearl-gray blouse that shimmered in the right light, with a black silk button-up sweater. She was only five foot six in bare feet and Elliot was well over six foot, so she opted for her Ferragamo black ankle boots that oozed comfort even after long hours on your feet. She captured her hair carefree away from her face with a sparkling gray head band, pulling it into a halo around her face. Minimal makeup, a dab of African musk behind her ears and on her wrists and she was ready just as the doorbell rang.
Her stomach wobbled for a second and heat popped in her ears. She took a quick look in the mirror, left her bedroom and scanned the living room en route to the door, confident that everything was in its place. She went to the intercom, confirmed that it was Elliot and buzzed him in. Her heart pounded. Moments later her front doorbell rang. Straightening, she grasped the knob, turned it and opened the door.
The air stopped in her lungs. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but seeing him again did something to her that she couldn’t explain if you paid her. Everything about him was more intense, more magnified, bigger and brighter than when she’d seen him for the first time.
Was it the dark, searing eyes that seemed to peek into her soul from beneath half-lowered lids and silky lashes, or the cool chocolate of his complexion that blended seamlessly with his shirt, slacks and hip-length suede jacket? The combination so enticing and perfectly matched that his attire was more second skin than a cover-up. Perhaps it was the half smile that moved like a lazy river across his full lips giving just a hint of beautiful teeth.
“Hey,” he said, his low, almost gritty voice snapping her out of her momentary trance.
“Hi. Come on in. I need to get my jacket and purse.” She turned and commanded her lungs to inhale and exhale as she crossed the space on shaky legs, knew he was watching the sway of her hips and prayed that not only did he like what he saw, but that she didn’t trip.
Miraculously she made it to her bedroom. She drew in long, calming breaths of air. Blinking several times she focused on what she needed to do. She took her purse from the top of her dresser, checked for her cell phone, ID, house keys and wallet. She took her jacket from the back of the overstuffed armchair that sat like a Buddha near her window then went back out front.
She entered the room and watched him for an instant. He was turned halfway away from her, running his finger along the frame of a photograph that rested on a table in the short hall. His body was fluid almost as if it moved to some sultry beat in his head, so different from the tightly coiled man of earlier in the day. “All ready,” she announced.
He only turned his head in her direction, let his eyes run over her for a hot flash of an instant. “Cool. Let’s go.”
Elliot opened the door for her and as she passed him she caught the faintest hint of something manly, a clean and seductive scent that was more him than off the shelf. She liked it. She locked the door behind them.
“Did you have someplace in mind?” she asked as they walked down the stairs to the outside door. She felt his heat as he walked inches from her on the wide staircase.
“Why don’t I surprise you?”
She glanced up at him as he reached around her to open the door. His arm brushed her shoulder and she was certain she felt a jolt of heat race down to the pads of her fingers.
“I like surprises,” she said. “Most of the time.”
“We’ll hope for the best.”
They stepped outside into the cool spring night. He pointed to a midnight blue Jaguar parked across the street.
“You’re getting paid too much, or I’m in the wrong business,” she teased him as he opened the door of the lush automobile, its interior still carrying the scent of brand-new leather.
“Every
