tree there’s always a gold ornament with your name on it … there it is, top right. Um … and somewhere in one of the windows is a mouse in a waistcoat and top hat—he’s appeared in every one of your six Christmas windows so far.’
Riley’s mouth dropped open. ‘I cannot believe that you noticed him. He’s tiny and my little secret.’
‘I saw him the first year, and the second and now I look for him. There he is—he’s peeking out from behind that wine bottle.’
‘I never thought that anyone would notice him,’ Riley said, still in shock.
‘Hell, yeah, I notice your work. I adore your work, even though I wish it didn’t cost so much or that you had a vague idea of sticking to a budget.’ James blew on his freezing fingers. ‘And that’s why there is no way I’m letting you walk away without a fight.’
Riley deflated like a popped balloon. Of course this was about her work; it had nothing to do with her. Stupid, stupid girl for thinking, if only for a moment, that there was a spark of something more there.
‘The temperature has dropped a couple of degrees. Let’s get home,’ James suggested.
‘I need a taxi,’ Riley agreed.
James tightened the scarf around her neck and pulled her woollen cap down over her ears before running an icy finger across her cheek. Riley tried to tell herself that it was the cold that made it hard for her to breathe but knew that it was the tenderness, the gentleness in his eyes. ‘It’s late; you’re cold and probably hungry. Come back to my place, get some food in you and crash there. It’s a five-minute walk versus a trek across town. And who knows how long it will take to get a cab.’
She shouldn’t—she really shouldn’t—but she grabbed on to his words as the best excuse she’d ever heard to spend a little time with him. It had been too long since she’d experienced anything but frustration and craziness with James and being with him like this reminded her of the boy she used to know, the friend she’d adored, so she allowed him to take her hand and lead her back to his home.
BACK IN HIS toasty-warm apartment, Riley whipped off her hat and shrugged out of her heavy coat. James took it and hung it on the coat rack. He reached out and ran his thumb across her cheek, wincing at her icy skin. ‘Let’s get you warm. Something hot to drink?’
‘Yes, please. Coffee with a belt of whisky?’ Riley looked hopeful as she jammed her hands into the pockets of her jeans and followed James to the massive kitchen.
Riley slid onto a kitchen stool and James tried not to notice how her denim jeans showed off her shapely butt. Or how her long-sleeved jade-green T-shirt made her eyes a deeper, darker grey. Or how the cold made her nipples …
Okay, so maybe inviting her back to his apartment in the dead of the night wasn’t the smartest idea he’d had all week. The urge to scoop her up and warm her up in a more basic biological way was shockingly strong.
Get your mind out of the gutter, Moreau.
He turned to face the coffee machine, willing his pants to subside. Damn, he was a basket case. ‘If you can get the whisky bottle from the drinks cabinet that would be great.’
Riley hopped off the stool, retrieved the bottle, handed it over and took her seat again, chin in her hand. ‘Look, about the windows …’
James cocked an eyebrow. ‘Another expense?’
‘Yeah. The—’
James held up a hand to stop her explaining. ‘Ri, it’s past midnight and I’m exhausted. The windows are fantastic and, as you pointed out the other night, the cost is a fraction of other media advertising and, right now, I simply don’t care. Okay?’
‘Sure.’
James took their cups to the counter where she sat and reached for the whisky, cracking the top and slugging in a healthy amount. ‘That being said, I do reserve the right to throw my toys when I see the bill.’
‘Fair enough.’ Riley took the cup he slid over to her, wrapped her hands around it and took an appreciative sip. ‘That’s fantastic, thanks.’
‘Shall we take this to the couch?’
Riley yawned as she took her cup and walked to the lounge area. She placed her cup on the table and took the seat next to the arm. James, inexplicably needing to be close to her, took the middle seat. They sat in companionable silence for a little while, looking out of the massive windows to the night view of Central Park and the bright buildings on either side of it framing the famous park.
‘You hungry?’ James asked, rolling his head against the back of the couch to look at her. Her eyes were shadowed in blue and she looked played out. ‘I’ve been crazy busy so I sent out a mercy call to Mariah and she sent over some homemade meals that I can reheat.’
Interest sparked in those incredible eyes. ‘Any curry?’
And there was another difference between Riley and the women he normally dated. No explanations needed about who was who. She knew that Mariah was his mum’s long-time housekeeper and Jackson was the family’s driver. She knew them and they knew her … adored her. Just like his parents did.
‘Yeah, there’s curry.’
Mariah made the best curry in the world and it was his, and Riley’s, favourite dish. They were the only ones who could eat it as hot as Mariah liked to make it and it had been a frequent topic of argument about who handled the heat better. Back when they still argued. James missed that. Then again, he missed lots of things about Riley.
‘No rice but there’s fresh bread in the bread bin—do you want to help yourself?’
Riley hopped to her feet. ‘Sure. Do you want some?’
‘I ate earlier.’
Ten minutes later, Riley was sitting cross-legged on the couch, food on her lap, dipping her bread into the juice of the curry and making appreciative noises. ‘So good, so good.’
He wished she was making those noises while tasting his body but watching her eat wasn’t a bad consolation prize.
‘For someone so small, you can pack it away,’ James commented, watching her lick a drip of sauce from the corner of her mouth with her tongue. It was the sexiest thing ever … ever.
‘Big metabolism. My mum is the same. So is Morgan, actually.’ Riley cleaned her plate with a piece of bread, popped it into her mouth and placed the plate on the coffee table. ‘Oh, God, I feel a million times better. Warm and full.’
Riley rested her head against the back of the couch and James could feel her eyes on his face. He turned his head and met her stare straight on. He realised that her eyes held a hundred shades of grey, from silver to lightning to thundercloud. He remembered that her breasts tasted like the sweet grapes grown at Bon Chance, that her ass was world quality. His sex stirred and then jumped to attention, all ready to rock and roll. The sex between them had been off-the-charts stupendous …
But it was much harder to admit that his attraction to her wasn’t only about sex; her laugh had the power to turn his day around, her smart-aleck comments and the irreverence she displayed
