“Please don’t leave me, don’t ever leave me,” she said. “I want to be together like this forever.”
He thought about telling her how awkward it would be for the chefs to work around them when they came to work tomorrow, but he held his tongue. This wasn’t a moment for humor.
Lucy might seem strong, but in many ways she was fragile, and he had to remember that. She might have been a bit brazen tonight, but he knew she didn’t take this sort of thing casually.
He tried not to take her plea about never leaving too seriously. People said all kinds of strange things during a sexual climax. Refined ladies cursed like sailors, and sailors wept like children.
He hoped she didn’t mean anything by it. Because he would leave her eventually. No matter how much he didn’t want to.
He gently separated himself from her, wrapped his arms around her and slid her off the counter and onto legs that wobbled slightly before she found her balance.
“You okay?” He smoothed her hair out of her face.
“I think I’ll live.”
“Ready to put your clothes on and go upstairs?”
“You aren’t seriously asking me to go upstairs without eating some of that cake, are you?”
Funny, he’d forgotten all about the cake. “Let’s take it with us. We can eat it in bed.”
She grinned, pushed him farther away from her and retrieved her discarded clothes. “Last one dressed has to spread whipped cream all over the other one and lick it off.”
That was one contest Bryan wouldn’t mind losing—though winning sounded pretty good, too.
Lucy had sobered by the time they got upstairs, fully dressed and carrying two plates of cake plus the rest of the dessert, which Bryan had sealed into a Tupperware cake plate.
Her face grew warm as she recalled how wanton she’d been—and then how she’d clung to Bryan, pleading with him not to leave.
She hadn’t meant to do that last part. She’d still been in the throes of the most intense orgasm of her life, and the words had just poured out of her right past her brain.
She knew she still had some issues about Cruz Tabor. The In Tight drummer had ended the relationship without warning, in the cruelest of fashions, and now she had a sort of phobia about being abandoned.
But such pleas would be useless where Bryan was concerned. Their relationship could not be anything but temporary. He’d given her fair warning—unlike that bastard Cruz, who’d led her to believe he was crazy in love with her and that he would marry her someday.
She would just make things worse if she clung to Bryan. She had to adopt the mindset that every day they had together was a gift, and that when they inevitably parted ways, she would have some incredible memories and, hopefully, no hard feelings.
Hell, she wasn’t even sure Bryan wanted to have a relationship, temporary or otherwise. She’d pushed him into sex, and men were pretty helpless to say no when sex was offered.
She chanced a glance at him as the elevator reached his loft. He was staring at her.
“What?” she said with a nervous giggle.
“You’re just so absolutely gorgeous I can’t stop looking at you.”
“Oh, yeah, right. In these really sexy clothes, no makeup, glasses, my hair’s a wreck—”
“Stop that. You are beautiful, with or without designer clothes and cosmetics. I don’t know who told you you weren’t, but he was an idiot.”
The door opened, and he ushered her ahead of him.
“It wasn’t a he. It was my mother. She thought I was going straight to hell when I died anyway, for being willful and lazy and disrespectful. But she said that at least she didn’t have to worry about me doing bad things with boys, because God hadn’t gifted me in a way that would make any boy take notice.”
Lucy had always made light of her mother’s criticism, but saying the words aloud after all these years still produced a tightness in her chest.
“That’s criminal,” Bryan said, his jaw pulsating. “No wonder you don’t miss your parents so much.”
“Oh, she meant well. She was always so afraid for me—afraid for my soul. She just knew I was headed down the path straight to hell. The sad thing was, I proved her right.”
“You?”
“I lived up to her worst fears.” And that was all Lucy would say on that subject. “Can we really eat cake in bed?”
“Your mother wouldn’t approve.”
“My mother would be on her knees for a week, praying for my salvation, if she knew I’d colored my hair. Eating cake in bed with a man would be beyond her comprehension.”
“Then I guess we won’t worry about what Mom would think.”
Lucy took a deep breath and realized, for the first time in a long time, that she didn’t feel guilty for enjoying herself, for having fun. Maybe she was making progress.
She nodded toward the stairs. The last of Bryan’s anger left his face. He grinned, left the cake in the kitchen, took one of Lucy’s plates and her hand and led her upstairs.
“Here’s the thing about eating cake in bed, though,” he said with mock gravity. “There are rules.”
“Such as?”
“You have to do it naked.”
“I can do that.” She smiled wickedly, set the plates down on the king-size bed and took off her clothes. In less than a minute they were both naked and in bed, feeding each other the decadent dessert without benefit of forks, which they’d forgotten.
“This cake is fabulous. You just made this up tonight?”
Bryan made a production of licking whipped cream off her fingers. “You inspired me. I needed something so decadent it would distract me from you. I’m going to put it on the menu, and I’m going to call it Lucy’s Cake.”
“Don’t you mean Lindsay’s Cake? Everyone would wonder who the heck Lucy was.”
“Once we catch our embezzler—and find Stungun—you can go back to using your real name.”
“Right.” Lucy didn’t add that once that happened, there would be no more need for his girlfriend ruse. No more need for her to remain in New York.
Bryan set the two empty plates on the nightstand and slid more deeply under the covers, pulling her with him. “We need to work off a few calories, you know,” he said.
“I’m all sticky. Maybe I should take a shower.”
“I like you all sticky.” To prove his point, he kissed all around her mouth
