“I forgot my wallet.” I frowned, hating that I would have to add another fifteen minutes onto our drive to head back to my place.
“No worries, I can pick up the tab tonight.”
My frown deepened and I looked over at Grace.
She giggled. “What? Too macho to let the woman pick up the bill for the night?”
I nodded. “Damn straight,” I responded just as I made a U-turn, heading in the direction of my condo.
“Jacob, are you seriously going back to your place for your wallet? I really don’t mind picking up the bill.”
“My license is also in there. I need I.D. on me.”
“You don’t keep yours in the car?”
My eyebrows dipped as I looked at her as if she were crazy. Another round of laughter and the muscle at the left-center of my chest responded by beating faster. “Why the hell would I? Is that what you do?”
“Yeah. After forgetting my wallet one too many times, or changing from one purse to another, only to leave my license at home, I just decided to leave it in my car.” She shrugged. “Worked well for me so far. I just remember to retrieve it when going out, like tonight.”
I shook my head. “I’m not doing that. This’ll only take a few minutes.”
I had the urge to step on the gas to reach our destination sooner, but I wasn’t in the mood to risk getting pulled over without my license on me. Eight minutes later, we were pulling up to the front of the high-rise building housing my condo. I chose to park out front in the ten-minute parking lane, instead of in my spot in the garage.
“I’ll only be a minute.”
“Can I come up?”
I stopped, my body halfway outside of my car, with the other half still inside. Lifting my eyebrows, I stared at Grace.
The expression on her face was hopeful.
Again, my heart lurched. “You want to see my place.”
It wasn’t a question but she nodded.
I swallowed because this would be the first time I’d ever let a woman who wasn’t my cleaning lady, or the person who dropped my groceries or dry cleaning off, into my home.
“Yes,” I finally answered, getting out of my car and then going around to Grace’s side to hold the door open for her.
I held firmly to her hand as I punched in the code to grant us access to the front entranceway of my building.
“Fancy,” Grace stated, smirking over at me as we entered the elevator. I knew her comment was more to break up the silence of the moment than anything else.
We got off on the tenth floor and she followed me down the hallway where only three condos resided. Mine was at the far end, on the right side. I slid the keycard into the door and the lock clicked as it disengaged. Inhaling, I pushed the door open and stepped aside to make room for Grace to enter. As soon as she did the automatic lights I had installed came on, illuminating the living room space and foyer of my home.
Her heels sounded against my hardwood flooring, which brought my attention to her legs. She was dressed in a forest green, asymmetric shoulder, jumpsuit that covered those well-sculpted legs of hers, but I’d committed them to memory.
“Are you going to show me around?”
I blinked out of the trance staring at her put me in and held out my hand. She took it and I began the tour, showing her the open-floor plan living room, with the low sitting, black leather couch and loveseat, which faced the flat screen just above the mock fireplace. We then entered the kitchen where I watched her eyes widen, admiring the shiny countertops and large stove top that rarely ever got turned on. I remembered how much Grace enjoyed cooking, and for an instant I could envision her in my kitchen, cooking in just a T-shirt and panties as she’d done at her place.
“This is the guest room,” I stated, pushing open the door of the room that was only partially decorated. Pictures that I purchased to go on the wall were still sitting on the floor, and the half put together bed remained bare.
Grace giggled. “Please tell me no one has actually ever slept in here.”
I shook my head. Just the way I liked it. Why the hell I even chose to call it a guest room was beyond me. My decorator had thought it would be better as a guest room than an office. And at the time, I was so preoccupied with work that I let him do what he thought was best.
“I’m thinking of turning it into a home office instead.”
