I swipe my card, and the door unlocks. I open it but let her go in first. I hear her gasp before I see her expression. “Sam. This place… it’s amazing.” She walks over to the huge windows that overlook Navy Pier and Lake Michigan. “It’s spectacular.”
She moves about the room looking at the stuff, knickknacks the designer chose for the place. I think they’re dust collectors; the designer called them tchotchkes. Whatever that means. There are two photos on display. One is my family—Mom, Dad, Perri, and me. The other is a photo of the guys from my old unit: Adam, Payton, and me. MacKenzie looks closer at the photo of my friends. She looks up at me, surprised. “You were in the Marines?” she asks.
“I was.” I don’t feel like elaborating.
“These guys?” She points to the picture. “Are they your best friends?”
“They were.” I feel my expression harden. I don’t want to talk about the guys tonight.
“They were? Are they…?”
“Killed in action,” I say quickly. Briskly, I change the subject. “Okay, let’s talk dinner. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”
She gets the hint that I don’t want to talk about the guys and turns to follow me toward my kitchen. She’s still looking around. “It’s so perfect in here. It’s completely opposite of my place.”
The place is cold and museum-like, so yeah, it’s opposite of her little place. “It is pretty formal. None of that shit means anything to me.” Except for the two photos.
“Wow, almost everything in my place means something to me.”
“I assumed that.”
“Why? Why did you assume that?”
“Because your place has personality. I could see you everywhere in that space. I’m nowhere in this one.” And I used to like it that way.
“Hmm, maybe all you need are just some colorful pillows or something. Don’t you have things from your bedroom when you were a kid that you could put here and there?”
I laugh at that. “Unless you’re referring to my Farrah Fawcett poster, no.”
“Oh, I know that one. I think every boy in America had that one in their bedroom.”
I turn and lean on the counter and smirk. “And what would you know about things boys had in their rooms? Huh?”
MacKenzie turns a new shade of pink that makes her look even more adorable. I walk to her and slide my palm against her cheek. “Did you spend a lot of time in your boyfriend’s room in high school?”
Defensive, she snaps, “No, I didn’t have a boyfriend in high school. Or college. Or….”
“I find that hard to believe. You’re stunning, MacKenzie.” Now my hands are in her hair. I pull her face up so I can look into her eyes. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” I start to lean down for a kiss, but she pulls away.
“Yeah, right,” she mutters. Changing the subject, she adds, “I wish I’d known we were just going to chill. I would have worn something more comfortable.”
I grab her wrist and pull her toward the bedrooms. “Follow me.” I lead her into one of my two guest bedrooms to the large dresser along the wall. I open the second drawer and grab a pair of those legging things ladies wear and a pink T-shirt. “These are my sister’s. She left them here a couple of years ago. Put them on so you’re comfortable.” I should just give her one of my T-shirts, but I’m looking forward to seeing her ass in those tight pants. Yeah. I’m kind of perverted. Sue me.
“Are you sure she won’t mind?”
“I’m positive. She forgot about them. She’s got plenty more where those came from,believeme.” I want to stay and watch her change, to pull that tie until the dress falls open, but I know it’s not time for that. “I’ll be out there.” I point to the living room.
“Okay. Thank you, Sam.”
I wait impatiently with my ass on the arm of a chair. I want to watch her walk out. When she finally appears, clutching her folded dress close to her chest, she looks nervous. “Your sister must be tiny,” she mutters.
I don’t say anything, just walk up to her so I can get a closer look. I take the dress out of her hands and set it on the side table, then scan her from head to toe. Yeah, everything is tight on her but in a spectacular way. I can see every luscious curve of her body, and I’m not disappointed. “Damn, MacKenzie. You look hot as sin,” I groan. “All I want to do now is rip this little T-shirtoff you.” I hear her squeak. It’s a tiny noise that speaks volumes. I wrap my arms around her. “I’d love to, but I need to feed you.” I kiss the tip of her turned-up nose and grab her hand, pulling her into the kitchen.
I point to the tall stool that sits just on the other side of the counter. She can watch me work from there. “Would you like something to drink?” I ask, opening the fridge. “I’ve got wine, beer, orange juice, soda, sparkling water, and milk.”
“Do you have white wine?” she asks, unsure of herself.
“Yes. It’s chardonnay. It’s a dry white wine.”
