Leaning back against the bench, Rick surveyed the kitchen. Café curtains at the window with bright yellow sunflowers on a white background, light-blue laminate bench tops created to look like marble, and white kitchen cupboards. The table was dark wood, the chairs had blue cushions. The room was bright and cheerful. Not much clutter on the benches, but a few assorted items that were used regularly and a vase of roses.
Curious, Rick crossed the small hall to check out the lounge. Just as he’d suspected, neat and homely without clutter. He’d bet her bedroom would be the same.
Her bedroom where she was getting dressed right now. He could just about imagine her in the nude, all lush curves. He had images of those lush curves, but only vague images. He could definitely feel them under his hands, but seeing them...he sighed inwardly. He hadn’t been able to see a lot due to the combined effects of whiskey and the dim lighting.
I’m sure as hell going to set that to rights.
Now where had that thought come from?
He returned to the kitchen. He was here to find out what Cherry had been up to that night, not pursue her, though… He gazed out the kitchen window at the plain lawn, paving, and yet more roses in the backyard, his mind ticking over. He was attracted to Cherry, no doubt about that, but circumstances being what they were, pursuing her wasn’t on the cards.
And if that was so, why was he here? Why didn’t he just forget the whole thing and walk away?
Because he wanted to find out what she’d been up to, why she’d given her virginity to a perfect stranger. Why she’d hired a male prostitute to do the deed.
Why did it matter to him?
Frowning, he poured two cups of coffee, leaving hers black and without milk or sugar because he didn’t know how she drank it.
He was still frowning when he heard her enter the room. Turning, he couldn’t stop his grin at the sight of her. Cherry was obviously in defensive mode. Dressed in pedal-pushers, a loose t-shirt, flat ballerina pumps, and her glorious hair pulled back in a ponytail, she was as mad as hell and embarrassed.
Her cheeks reddened when she looked at him, and marching across to the bench beside him, she poured milk into the cup and added two sugars. Looking at him, she raised her brows challengingly.
The chit might be embarrassed, but she wasn’t going to back down. Damn, he liked that about her. Almost as much as he liked her curves.
“What do you want?’ she asked bluntly.
You. On me, under me. Pushing the thoughts aside, Rick replied coolly, “To talk.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. The other night was a mistake that I just want to forget.”
“The other night left me with some rather decadent memories and your virgin’s blood on me.”
He could have sworn those apple cheeks were going to go on fire, they went so red. But she held her chin up and met his gaze steadily. “Everyone loses their virginity at some time. Big deal.”
“Not everyone hires a male prostitute to do it.”
“That’s my business.”
“It’s become mine since I was the one who took your virginity.” He could still remember how tight she was, how slick… Ignoring the flare of heat in his loins, he took a sip of coffee while watching her over the brim. “What happened to Damien?”
Almost slamming the mug down on the bench, Cherry stuck one hand on her hip and glared at him. “Look, that’s my business and I don’t want to talk about it. So you got to pop my hymen, big deal. Why the hell do you care? Why come here?” Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t tell me you think I’ll be an easy lay, Reed, or that you can blackmail me.”
“Blackmail?” Keeping the surprise from his face, Rick continued to gaze steadily at her. One thing being a doctor in an emergency room had taught him, staying calm was paramount. “Blackmail is something I abhor.”
“Oh, so then you must think I’m an easy lay.” Teeth clenched, Cherry pointed a finger at him. “You might think I’m pathetic, Reed—”
“Rick.” Placing the mug on the bench, he folded his arms and arched one brow. “Do go on.”
“Stuff you, Reed!” She swung away.
Hooking his hand around her upper arm, Rick swung her right back around, steadying her with a hand at her waist when she teetered off balance. “We’re not finished yet.”
She slapped his hand off her waist and glared at his other hand on her arm. “Let go.”
“You’re very touchy about this whole thing,” he drawled, leading her toward the table.
In vain she tried to tug away from him. “What do you expect? You come barging into my home demanding that I tell you things that aren’t your business.”