such a twist? He stepped back and gestured her inside. “Come on in. Let’s talk.”
She charged past him. “Violet saw it, and she made me admit I’m seeing someone. And she knows it’s you.”
“Clare, I didn’t give you a hickey.”
She made a rude noise. “Well, I didn’t give it to myself.”
“Let me see,” he said.
She took her coat off and dropped it over the back of the couch, baring her neck to him. “See? How do you explain that?”
He examined her neck. “Explain what?”
“What do you mean, what? Don’t tell me you don’t know what a hickey looks like.”
“Clare, there’s nothing here.”
Her lips pressed into a tight line. “That’s not funny.”
“I’m not trying to be funny. Is it maybe on the other side?” Frowning, she turned so he could look. “Sorry, nothing there either.”
“How can that be? Violet said—” She blinked, then blinked again. “Oh, my gosh, that little sneak.”
“I don’t get it,” he said.
She collapsed onto the couch, dropping her head in her hands. “She suspected that I was seeing someone so she lied about the hickey to make me spill my guts. And I fell for it, hook, line and sinker.”
Was that all?
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“It’s okay.” He sat down beside her, took her hand, which she promptly retracted.
“No, it’s not. I’m an intelligent person. You’d think that I would have the good sense to at least confirm it in a mirror before I started flinging accusations.”
“I could think of a few ways you could make it up to me,” he said, but he didn’t get the smile he’d been hoping for. He wasn’t sure if she’d even heard him.
“This is ridiculous,” she said, and was up on her feet again, pacing the rug. “I’m acting like a crazy person.”
He took her hand to hold her still. “Don’t you think you might be overreacting a little? I’m assuming you told Violet the truth because you trust her.” Or because deep down, she actually wanted the truth to come out. It was too soon to say.
She looked up at him. “Did you mean what you said today? About being exclusive? It wasn’t just a line to get me back into bed?”
They were back to that? He should have known that this wouldn’t be easy, that she would question his every move. What had made her so afraid to follow her heart?
“Come here,” he said, pulling her down into his lap, surprised when she didn’t resist. He looked her dead in the eyes, so she would know he was telling the truth, and said, “It was not a line. I meant every word I said.”
She looked as though she really wanted to believe him but wasn’t quite there yet. Which was a little frustrating, but not a deal breaker. She would get there.
“Have you ever even been in a committed relationship?” she asked him.
He shook his head. “Nope.”
“Then how can you promise to be exclusive to me? Do you even know how?” She paused then said, “Don’t answer that.”
Oooookay.
She looked around his living room, as if actually seeing it for the first time since she got there. “Nice condo. Although I would have imagined you in something a lot bigger. I like the decor, though.”
“It’s an executive rental—it came this way.”
“Oh.”
“I’ll buy something eventually. I just thought I should settle into the job first, before I tied myself here.”
“So you’re not sure you’re staying?”
Definitely not what he’d said. “I wasn’t sure then.” He picked up her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist. “But I am now.”
“If you tell me you’re staying because of me, I’ll probably have a panic attack. Just sayin’.”
He grinned. “No panic attacks tonight.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Would you stop apologizing?” He rearranged her on his lap so she was straddling his thighs. “I have a great idea. Why don’t you kiss me.”
“You’re just trying to shut me up.”
He grinned. “Pretty much.”
She tried to look offended, but laughed instead. “There is such a thing as too honest, you know. But this time, I guess I’ll let it slide.”
“I think it’s time for a tour of the house,” he told her. “Specifically my bedroom, though I do have a fairly sturdy desk in my office. Just sayin’. Or there’s the trundle bed in the spare room—”
She folded a hand over his mouth, a saucy grin on her glossy lips. “We can do it wherever you want. Now, shut up and kiss me.”
* * *
Despite all the options Parker had mentioned, they went to the bedroom first, then never left. Every time she told herself that the sex couldn’t possibly get better, he pulled out the stops, making her even crazier than he had the time before. It was as if someone had written a handbook on her emotional and sexual needs, and he’d read it from cover to cover. Twice.
Afterward he pulled on a pair of flannel pajama bottoms and headed to the kitchen for a snack. Which wound up being leftover reheated spinach and bacon quiche—coincidentally, her favorite kind—and a huge bowl of grapes. And it was delicious. They sat side by side on his bed, eating the quiche and feeding each other grapes.
“This is so good,” she said, and always on the lookout for palatable frozen fare, asked, “What brand is it?”
“It’s not,” he said.
“Oh. Did you get it from a restaurant?”
He looked at her a little funny. “No.”
“Does someone cook for you?”
He shook his head. “Guess again.”
“Elves?”
He laughed. “Is it really so hard to believe that a man can cook?”
In her family it was. “The men in my family don’t cook.”
“How about you?”
“I was banned
