“Can I help you?” I asked.
My stark question surprised me, but it also reaffirmed my ability to be around this man without ripping off my clothes and begging him to have his way with my right here in my doorway.
Scarlett, get your shit together.
His height allowed him to easily peer around me, doing his best to nonchalantly scope out the inside of my apartment. “Am I interrupting something?” His tone hinted at something, but I wasn’t sure what.
“And if you are?” I asked, letting the blanket slink down my shoulders. My bare leg popped out from underneath as I repositioned myself against the doorframe. I couldn’t control my mouth or my body at this point; it was as if I was desperate to play along, to be a tease.
The muscles in his jaw clenched, visible under the scuff that lined his cheeks. His eyes dropped from mine, loitering over my body. “Well, then I’d say he was one lucky son of a bitch.”
My eyes widened as my heart threatened to beat right out of my chest.
“But based on the fact that your hair is still neatly on the top of your head, your lips aren’t swollen, and your cheeks lack the red flush of pleasure, I’d say you’re full of shit.” He chuckled, crossing his arms over his strong chest. “That, or darlin’, I’m afraid to say you picked the wrong guy.”
My hand jumped to my mouth, my pointer finger tracing the smooth inside of my bottom lip. The memory of him and me in the recording studio jumped to the front of my mind, reminding me that these lips hadn’t felt that kind of satisfaction since that day.
I dropped my hand from my mouth as soon as I noticed he was watching me. “Is that your way of insinuating that you’re…”I paused, knowing damn well I was teetering a fine line between teasing and full-blown foreplay.
And to be honest, I wasn’t sure where I wanted to be at the end of this encounter.
His broad shoulders squared in front of me as his boots urged closer. Now he was halfway inside my apartment and halfway outside when he leaned his mouth to my ear and whispered, “I could be the right one, and I have a list of things I’d do to you to prove it.”
Well, I guess that settled that question.
An entire population of chills inhabited every inch of my body, forcing my shoulders to quiver.
He pulled away. “But we’re keeping this professional…” The wordprofessionalhung on his lips like he was just as unsure as I was.
I cleared my throat. “Right. Yeah. Professional.” The words were said more as a reminder to myself rather than in agreement with him.
“Any chance I can come inside? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re sort of in the middle of a snowstorm.”
I glared at him.
“For professional reasons, of course,” he said, tugging on the brim of his camo trucker hat.
I stepped to the side, motioning him in. “Professional reasons,” I repeated as he walked past, the familiar rich leathery but woodsy musk rushing past me. I inhaled quickly, not wanting to miss it.
“What the hell? It’s just as cold in here as it is outside.”
“Yeah, I lost electricity a bit ago and I quickly found out that my electrical fireplace is completely worthless in a time of need.”
“Those things are shit. The only fireplaces that should be allowed in a house are real, wood-burning ones,” he stated.
“You sound like my dad,” I said.
“Your dad must be a smart man.”
I smiled, a sense of sadness invading my already unstable emotions. “He is,” I said. “Actually, he and my mom were supposed to be here with me for Christmas, but their flight got cancelled.”
“I know,” he said, his normal confident tone replaced with a softer, more somber one. “That’s why I came over here. Well, that, and I really do have something professional I wanted to ask you.”
I wandered over to the kitchen island where he’d posted up on one of my barstools.
“What? How did you know?” I asked, scouring my brain for any possible way he would’ve known before finally landing on the answer.
“George,” we both said simultaneously.
