Still grinning, Claire clutched the knob sets in her arms and headed to the register to check out, leaving him to pick up the door and follow behind her.
CLAIRE SPREAD TOMATO sauce in the bottom of the casserole dish and topped it with a layer of cooked noodles. It wouldn’t be on par with Eric’s food, but it had been so long since she’d had time to cook, and she was in the mood for comfort food. Her grandma’s lasagna was the perfect choice. It took all day to make and it would hold until Luke got home from work. She just hoped seeing her cooking in his kitchen didn’t scare him to death.
She’d actually knocked the man over with her suggestion that they renovate a house together. She made the suggestion on a whim. He seemed so into the challenge of finding the door knobs; she thought he’d love the challenge of restoring a house. Instead of being interested in the idea, he backed away from her so fast; he fell over.
The whole thing would make her sad if she couldn’t still picture him sitting on the floor in his faded jeans, his legs stretched out in front of him from where he’d fallen. He’d seemed so overwhelmed, and she’d caught a glimpse of what he must have looked like as a boy. What in the world happened to make him so averse to any kind of personal commitment that he’d rather end up on the ground than risk it? It was heartbreaking and ridiculous.
She spread the cheesy ricotta mixture over the noodles and topped it with parmesan before adding another layer of noodles. It wasn’t like she was asking him to move in together. She smeared on more meat sauce, fighting the urge to give in to being angry. She could tell he felt bad for overreacting but it hadn’t stopped him from doing it. And she didn’t think it was getting better. Every so often she’d catch him looking at her like he was trying to figure something out or say something. As if she had what he wanted beyond the obvious choices. He’d be sweet and attentive and she’d be so sure they turned a table only to watch him slide away again moments later. She’d never had so much sex in her life, but it didn’t make up for the ache she sometimes felt.
The lasagna would likely throw him over the edge, but she didn’t care. She wanted it. She had a day off. There was nothing weird about cooking dinner for a man you were sleeping with. If he had a problem with it, he’d have to get over it. She finished with more cheese and noodles and sauce, ending with a layer of cheese.
She glanced at her watch and then turned on the huge commercial oven to preheat. It was after six. Unless he was hiding from her he should be home soon. After the trip to the salvage yard, they’d delivered the door and the knob sets to the flip and then gone back to his place. He’d dropped her off and then headed into his office to work.
That didn’t bother her. She knew how hard he usually worked and how much time he’d lost trying to take care of her. The way he’d dropped everything to meet her at the police station when Mike got pulled in for questioning. He hadn’t needed to do that, but she loved that he did. If anyone understood what it was like to give a project everything it was her. She’d never begrudge him work he had to do.
Regardless of whether it made any sense to her, it was probably better if he’d didn’t walk into his house after working most of the day and find her playing Donna Reed. If an offhand mention of buying an investment house was enough to literally knock him on his ass, who knew what finding her playing house would do. She picked up her phone to send him a warning text.
I’m cooking. Don’t freak.
The phone chirped with a reply before she could set it down.
You can cook? You forget to eat.
She grinned at screen, typing her reply.
Not the same thing. I made lasagna.
The phone pinged almost immediately and she smiled wider thinking of him across town at his office holding his phone so he could reply right away.
Keep it warm for me, Lucy. I’ll be home in 40 min.
Apparently they were playing Lucy and Ricky now. The man was an emotional rollercoaster. He was going to give her whiplash.
She set the phone on the counter and checked on the lasagna before heading down the hall to the bathroom. Lucy would meet him at the door in a dress and heels. Claire intended to be naked and in the tub.
LUKE SHUT DOWN his computer and padded down the hall in his bare feet to grab a cup of coffee, stopping when he saw Claire sitting on the sofa. She was turned sideways with her feet on the cushions and her laptop resting against her knees. She’d piled her hair on top of her head in a messy knot and she was absentmindedly tugging on her bottom lip, the same lip he’d been biting when he thrust inside her that morning.
He’d come home last night to homemade lasagna and a naked woman in his tub. That morning he’d woken with her in his arms, and he’d had her before breakfast. They lounged around drinking coffee and reading the paper before settling in to work for a few hours. She hadn’t placed a single demand on him, simply nestling into his life like it was exactly where she belonged. He loved it, loved knowing she was there even when he wasn’t.
Aside from the moment of panic at the salvage yard, which sent him sprawling, it was the most relaxing weekend he’d had in, well … ever.
Which was ironic considering the edge of panic he felt at how easy it all seemed. He glanced around his penthouse and saw bits and pieces of her all over the place. A bag, her cellphone, theArchitectural Digeston the coffee table, the second coffee cup in the sink. It wasn’t that she was messy; she wasn’t. She was just everywhere. She hadn’t moved in. He knew she’d been so careful about not bringing her things into his space and part of him felt like a huge asshole for making her worry about it. It didn’t stop him from being able to feel her everywhere.
And if having things between them fall into a relaxed pattern had him feeling edgy, it was nothing compared to the full blown attack waiting just under the surface at the idea of watching her leave. He was fucked, truly and completely.
Letting out a frustrated breath at his own inability to act like a normal human being, he headed toward the kitchen for another cup of coffee, pausing to stroke her cheek as he walked past the sofa. She looked up at him, her lips curving in a smile, but he could the stress around her eyes.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, smoothing his thumb over the crease in the center of her forehead.
“Nothing,” she said with a little shake of her head. “It’s payroll. Don’t offer.”
She held her hand up and he closed his mouth not realizing he’d even opened it, and loving that she knew him well enough to know that he’d try to fix things for her.
“It’s not Armageddon. I’ll get it sorted,” she said, closing her laptop. “But I wish the distraction had lasted a little longer. The real world stuff is a bit much sometimes.”
As he bent to brush a kiss over her lips an idea was taking root in his head – one that might work for both of them, distracting her from her obligations and moving things back to a place much more comfortable for him than playing house.
“Go get dressed,” he said, straightening. “Wear the gray silk and pearls from New York.” He knew the outfit was tucked away in his closet, one of the few things of hers that was. “Don’t forget the stockings, Claire.” He helped her from the couch, ignoring her puzzled look and pulled his phone from his pocket to make the call to complete his plan.
