She looks down at her arm. The arm I’m holding. She seems to register my hand on her bare skin. She swallows then looks up at me.
Her breath hitches when she meets my eyes. And what’s that I see? Is her skin flushing? Holy shit. Haven is still affected by the way I touch her.
Well, this changes everything.
53
Several months later
After I record an episode of The Consummate Wingman, I pop into Marie’s office. “I’ve been remiss.”
She arches a brow. “I know.”
“Forgive me.”
“Only if you pay up.”
“I always make good on my bets.”
She holds out her hand. “I did enjoy the hundred dollars. Almost as much as I enjoyed being right.”
“And saying ‘I told you so’? Do you enjoy that at all? I can’t tell.”
She wiggles her fingers impatiently. “I did tell you so. I told you that you two would be more than friends. And then I predicted you’d move in together in less than six months. And you acted all independent.”
I have the decency to look sheepish. “What can I say? You were right on that count.”
I hand her the winnings on that wager. It’s far less painful than waiting longer to cohabitate would have been.
She taps her chin. “Next thing you know, I’ll be betting on when she’s going to pop out babies.”
My eyes widen. “No one is saying anything about babies yet.”
“Mark my words. You’ll be doing that after you say I do.”
“I haven’t even proposed yet.”
She shoots me an amused grin. “Seems we have our next wager.”
“And that’s how you dress for the first day on the job,” I declare as I finish typing my latest column for Gentleman’s Style.
“Why don’t you write how you undress when you come home from a hard day of work?” Truly calls out from the bedroom.
“Fine. I’ll tackle that next.” I pretend I’m typing like a madman, making the clickety-clack sound of keys. “I don’t undress myself. My lover does when I walk through the door, and she pounces on me like the hungry, naughty minx that she is.”
The hungry, naughty minx herself pops out of the bedroom, showing off sexy jeans and a snug black sweater. “Of course I do. That’s one of the bennies of living with you. Also, how do I look?”
“Good enough to eat. Like always.”
“Ooh, will you have a slice of my summer later? Maybe take a bite of the lily?”
I stand, stalk over to her, and curl my hand around her head. “No. Like I tell you every single time, I will devour your sweet, delicious pussy.”
She shivers against me. “You better. Also, stop talking about dessert, or I’m going to try to jump you at the theater. I’m feeling pretty good after that review we got on that gal’s nightclub podcast. Coco.”
I am so incredibly proud of Truly. She’s a powerful, successful entrepreneur in the city. She runs one of the best-reviewed and most popular nighttime establishments around, and the second-most as well, since she and Charlotte just opened Bisou. It means “kiss” in French, and given the sexy, romantic vibe she and Charlotte crafted for the place, it’s fitting. It’s also earning rave reviews in all the write-ups.
“Why don’t you play the review for me again?”
“Oh stop. Stop. You don’t want to hear it for the fiftieth time.”
“But I do.”
“Fine, if you insist.”
She grabs her phone, taps her podcast app, and hits play.
“Bisou, I could kiss you. Or be kissed.
That’s how I felt when I entered the gorgeous new establishment. It drips with romance. It radiates sex. It’s exactly the kind of place that makes a gal want to throw out all her apps and meet a man in person again. Ambiance, people. That’s what Bisou has, and it has it in every single corner. From the drinks to the music to the decor, I just might try to find a way to live there.
Until then, you’ll find me at the bar, kicking a high-heeled shoe back and forth, listening to Edith Piaf, drinking my absinthe.”
“Can I just say, I told you so?” I ask.
Truly grins at me. “Yes, you can. Anytime.”
