There was also a terrific balcony outside the bedroom, French doors that he said overlooked a beautiful grass-and-wooded landscape. But it was too dark for her to actually see for herself.
“You can see my dilemma,” he said, taking her to the en suite shower. It was big, built with gorgeous sea-green glass and tile, with a glass enclosure. “It’s not like the smart apartment’s shower, but...”
“But for real life? It looks great.”
“Yeah. So, that’s it.” He walked her down the stairs, making things a little too wobbly for her to see, but soon they were in the living room.
“I can picture you there,” she said. “I liked the International, but I think this place fits you better. And it’s a town house, which is cool. There’s plenty of room for your stuff so you have the option of working out at home.”
He smiled at her. “I can see myself here, too.”
“When do you have to make up your mind?”
“I think I already have. I’ll call when the management office opens tomorrow.”
“Sounds perfect,” she said. “If they have a brochure or something, maybe you can scan one for me.”
“I could,” he said. “Or maybe you can come out here and see it for yourself.”
“Oh. Sure.” She hadn’t expected that, or for her silly heart to start pounding. They’d been planning a Chicago weekend, but they’d never talked about crossing into home turfs before. “Thanks for showing me everything in the meantime.”
“Thanks for your most excellent advice. And since we’re still on FaceTime, feel free to flash me.”
“Hanging up now,” she said, laughing.
After they disconnected, she thought about what he’d said. She couldn’t decide on whether she should be surprised or not. Bottom line, he hadn’t made a big deal out of it, and she shouldn’t, either.
13
RICK TOOK A quick look at the data banks. Nothing serious was happening in the States, but the typhoon in Indonesia was troubling. Ordinarily he would’ve loved to hang around, watch the progression of the storms. But not tonight. “Okay, all. See you tomorrow.”
Twelve heads turned to stare at Rick as he adjusted his backpack over his coat. He knew exactly what they were thinking. Too bad. He’d moved into the new town house three days ago, had worked ungodly late every night since and hadn’t taken off so much as an hour to unpack.
Antwan stood up, arms akimbo, his eyes wide with surprise. “Dude. What the hell? We’ve ordered that disgusting Hawaiian pizza you like, and you’re leaving?”
“Yes. I’m leaving. If it’s too late to cancel, I’ll pay for the pizza.”
“But...typhoons.”
“Yes, the typhoon is Dave’s area. He’s in charge and I’d just be hanging around. You don’t need me here.”
Antwan shook his head. “Something’s going on with you, bredda. We’re going to talk.”
“You’re right. And I’m late, so, hasta la vista, my friends.” The moment he turned away, all thoughts vanished, except for the Skype sex he was going to have with Jenna tonight.
* * *
SHE WASN’T STUPID. She worked with computers every day. Mastered FaceTime in minutes, and had gotten to level ten in Angry Birds. But Skype was making her nuts.
It was also possible that she was freaking out about getting naked and more via the internet. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to try it. Rick had been starring in her X-rated dreams since the night she’d gotten home. But using the camera on her laptop was scary.
Damn it, if she had her own smart apartment, she’d already be lounging with a bottle of wine while she waited for Rick to call and she wouldn’t have had to do any of the tech stuff. Her birthday was coming up, and an apartment like that would be the only thing on her wish list.
But right now she was trying to figure out how to make Skype and her laptop work together, which was using up all her grooming time. She’d done some things this morning, like iron her hair and pluck her eyebrows, but for this liaison? She wanted to go bold. Not Fifty Shades bold. Just smoky-eyed makeup and matching-underwear bold...but which underwear?
The black lace? The v-tini with the longline push-up? Or should she switch it up and wear the thigh-high stockings she’d bought for a costume... No. There was the peach-colored bra that made her boobs look bigger. But she’d be taking it off, so the illusion would end right there. And he’d already seen her naked so what the hell was wrong with her?
She did the deep-breathing thing that was supposed to instantly relax her, but it didn’t work for beans. So she opened a bottle of Moscato and had a pull before she poured it into a glass.
She had enough time to do her makeup and fix Skype, or do her makeup and change but not fix the problem. It was like a nightmarish game of date/screw/marry. Skype first. Makeup next. Underwear...
Oh, hell.
She was supposed to call it lingerie.
* * *
THE THING RICK couldn’t help noticing as he fixed the sheets on his bed at 8:30 p.m. was that his extreme level of excitement could only be attributed to one of two things: his abstinence since Boston, or the Skype sex that was supposed to happen in thirty minutes.
But it was probably both. Definitely both.
It felt odd, though. His feverish anticipation reminded him of earlier days. He certainly wasn’t a kid anymore, or even a horny college student. And while there was no question he liked sex—more than liked it—he hadn’t been a big fan of phone sex or any of its offshoots.
Until tonight.
Now that the sheets were nice and tucked instead of just thrown on the bed, he checked the room. Unopened moving boxes lined the right wall, which was fine. But not his coffee mug from this morning, his pants draped over the chair, or the kettlebell in the corner.
There were no pictures on the walls, nothing that said this was his bedroom, but Jenna probably didn’t care. He wouldn’t give a damn what her place looked like. Still, women noticed stuff. Thankfully, the fact that he’d just moved in should excuse him. This weekend, though, rather than working, he would get every box unpacked, everything put away and all the boxes broken down. No excuses.
It was still too early to call Jenna. Time to get a drink to leave on the nightstand. He wouldn’t need anything else but his hand, so should he strip now? Be in bed when he called? Naked?
Yes. Naked. In bed. Under the covers. Definitely.
He stripped very quickly for a man wearing Doc Martens. But just as he dumped all his clothes in the closet and out of view from the newly installed Samsung, he felt a different kind of rush. Adrenaline made his pulse pound and when he got under the covers he spent so much time adjusting his pillows that the next time he checked, it was a couple of minutes to nine.
He got Skype going in two shakes. Luckily, his new TV came Skype-equipped, complete with a built-in camera above the big screen. He knew Jenna had had to download the program and that he would be her first encounter.
Suddenly, she was there. At least her midsection was. Covered by black material with bright flowers on it.
She stepped back and soon enough he saw her from her knees up. If he’d known this was going to happen, he’d have paid twice the exorbitant price for his huge TV because she looked amazing. The wide angle showed off her legs, especially when she walked back far enough that he could see her high heels.
She tilted her head. “You’re undressed.”
His gut clenched so tight it took a second to say “Yeah. I thought we were going to...”
She blushed. He watched the pink fill her cheeks bigger than life. He also saw that she was wearing black fuck-me heels, and that did a whole other number on his body, mostly south of the waist. “You wear those shoes to teach in?” he asked.
She looked at him as if he was crazy. “Are you nuts? I wouldn’t last past first period.”
“It wouldn’t matter what you wore. But damn, I wouldn’t want to be a boy in your classroom.”
“Why not? I have a lot of male students who enjoy my classes.”
“Bet they all walk out of the room with their books in front of their flies.”
“Actually, I teach mostly eleven-and twelve-year-olds. They’re not at the hot-for-teacher stage yet.”
“Uh, yeah, they are. Trust me.” He couldn’t help smiling at what he was watching, but he didn’t want to say anything to make her self-conscious. The laptop was clearly at the foot of her bed, and she wasn’t using a separate camera. But she obviously didn’t know the range of the camera or she’d never have reached under her kimono to move some part of something—he assumed it was underwear.
Well, great, now he was already half-hard. Maybe more.
She smiled at him. “Well, thanks for the implied compliment and the extra worry that my students could be... I’m never wearing anything but oversize mom jeans and sweatshirts again.”
Rick laughed. “Sorry. I’m exaggerating because I think you’re amazingly hot.”
“I’m choosing to believe you,” she said, sounding a little nervous. “About exaggerating and boys that age...”
He had to step things up before they chickened out. “Okay, I can’t stand the suspense. What’s under that robe of yours?”