“Ray, enough.” I didn’t want to hear it, or how they’d hooked up. “Go do something. Order dinner. Surely you must be hungry by now?”
She smirked. “Yeah, I am. In fact, I didn’t finish my muffin, which is all your fault. So, what shall I get?”
“Whatever you want.”
She dashed off. Seconds later, the thud of knuckles banging on wood sounded. “Hey, Maximus, what would you like to eat?”
“I’m good with whatever.” His quieter, muffled tone drifted to me. A door squeaked open, then his heavy footsteps followed my sister’s lighter ones down the stairs.
I pulled out a change of clothes and headed for the shower, which, of course, brought my encounter with Max back in vivid detail. Warmth flooded my face—eesh, you’d think I’d be used to nudity instead of blushing like a teen, considering I’d painted nudes while at university.
Irritated at myself, I stripped off my dank clothes, tossed them in the hamper, and stepped into the shower.
A half hour later, as I changed into jeans and a tee, my cell beeped with a text.Food’s here.
Right, now I’d have to go face my sister’s guest. I stared at my cell, biting my thumbnail. Then realizing what I was doing, I grimaced, pocketed my cell, and trudged downstairs. If Ray didn’t call me to eat, she’d probably find my skeletal form slumped over my easel. Time ran away when I painted. Unlike my day job.
As a window designer, the job should be fun, creative, but my boss, Kate, made the Dementors seem like paragons of happiness. I’d leave if I could, but I needed a steady income until my paintings took off.
As I cleared the bottom stair, soft voices drifted to me from the television, and the teasing aroma of savory, cheesy pizza had my tummy rumbling.
Ray sat on the floor while Max stood near the window, staring outside, his cell pressed to his ear. At the sight of Matt Smith’s cute face on TV, I wasn’t surprised she had him watchingherfavorite show, aDoctor Whorerun.
“Thought you’d never come down,” Ray said. “Pizza’s getting cold.”
“It’s okay.” I crossed to the low table, aware that Max had turned and now watched me as he ended his call. Ignoring him, I selected a cooling pepperoni slice from the box and took a bite. As I straightened, my gaze met his, and my stomach tripped at the intensity of his stare.
Darn, I needed a drink. I made for the kitchen, retrieved the merlot from the cupboard, and poured a glass of red. One hefty gulp later, and the miracle wine eased the tension inside me.
Calmer now, I headed back to the living room and bit off a disgruntled sigh. Max had claimedmyarmchair. My pillows stacked on a chair. He slouched in my comfy spot, long legs stretched out and those muscled, inked arms folded over his flat belly.
Since I couldn’t physically pick him up and move him—the guy was way tall and outweighed me by more than a hundred pounds—I kicked off my flip-flops and sat on the couch near Ray, curling my legs under me.
My sister gabbed nonstop, mostly about people I didn’t know, gaming, and then she asked Max how far he’d progressed on his “piece.”
A gamer? It fit.
Usually, any episode ofDoctor Whograbbed my attention. But not today. Now, it was next to impossible when our unexpected houseguest sat just a short distance away. Ack. Shutting him out of my thoughts, my mind drifted to my meeting with a new client this evening—well, more, it was the other half of an engagement portrait I had to complete. I’d finished Sue’s part and was meeting with her fiancé, Gus, to set up a schedule so I could work on his.
As the end credits rolled on-screen, I made my way to the kitchen and tossed the pizza crust in the compost bin under the sink. Despite having work to finish, I stood there for a second, a strange restlessness stirring within me. I wanted to go to the rooftop, lie on the chair there, and stare at the stars until my head cleared, but it was raining.
Exhaling wearily, I turned and almost collided with a hard body. Crap, I jumped back, my heart thumping wildly against my ribs. He smelled really, really good. Woodsy, with a hint of cedar and warm male…and a trace of my apple shampoo.
“Sorry, I didn’t see you there.”
“Or in the living room,” he said quietly.
He didn’t just say that, did he?
When he continued to watch me with those inscrutable lake-green eyes, I decided it was best not to say anything. He set the pizza box and soda can on the counter. I walked around him. He stopped me, a hand on my arm. My breath caught. My blood buzzed like a lit fuse at his touch. And I stood there stunned for what felt like years—a lifetime.
“Tell me your name.”
“What?”
“Or is it a state secret?”
My hazy thoughts finally connected. Crap. He’d asked my name.
