“It’s made. I programmed it last night.”
“Colombian?”
“Seriously?”
He shook his head then came to her again, although this time on the side of the bed, not in it. She looked up at his slightly stubbled face. “You forgot to shave.”
“I’ll tell him I’m growing a beard.”
“Kiss me already. And go.”
He did exactly that, tasting very minty. When he was at the bedroom door she said, “Is it okay if I open some kitchen boxes?”
“Open any box you want, do anything you like,” he said, as he walked out of the room. But two seconds later he stuck his head back in. “You have to split the money with me if you sell anything on eBay.”
“Have a great meeting,” she yelled after him, but she doubted he’d heard because he was racing down the stairs. The front door closed with a bang a few seconds later, and she smiled as she snuggled under the sheets. Being in his house had helped her build a profile of sorts of Rick Sinclair.
He was a hedonist when it came to things that touched his skin. The sheets, for example, were decadent, as were the pillows. On the other hand, his dishes were...usable. She might discover a great set of Wedgwood dinnerware as she searched for wineglasses, but she doubted it. After Faith’s return from Mexico, they’d amicably divided up things. But since neither one of them had ever cared about kitchen items, Rick had warned Jenna not to expect much.
That he’d called his previous apartment a frat house lifted her spirits and made the prospect of her day too exciting to go back to sleep. Not that she was going to redecorate or anything, but she could certainly unpack a box or two. Maybe pick up something fun at the mall, something homey.
She really wanted to surprise him. Having done all her teacher’s homework, she planned to make dinner for the two of them since it was their last night before she had to leave—something she could barely stand to think about. But first, she had to make sure he had the right pans and things for cooking her signature lasagna.
After her shower, she put on some jeans, a T-shirt and her favorite red sweater, then went to look through every box that was labeled “Kitchen.” And some that weren’t.
By 1:00 p.m., she’d discovered that his plates were unique in that none of them matched anything else. He did, however, have a cake stand and two expensive stand mixers, of all things. It made her laugh picturing him trying his hand at baking a cake.
Thankfully, she found a roasting pan that would do the job. Now, armed with a map and the GPS in his Jeep, she was off to the mall. Getting into the Rubicon was easy enough, but she had to move the seat forward quite a bit. She didn’t rush to the mall, not when she hadn’t driven a stick shift in ages. So she practiced in the quiet residential area. It all came back quickly, and she made her way out to the busy streets. It was fun being in the biggest, baddest vehicle on the road.
Not literally, but it felt like it. At home, she drove a nice small sedan. It was a perfect car for her commutes to school, the market, the movies. In this leviathan, it felt as if she didn’t stop for lights—the lights stopped for her.
Still riding on her high from last night, she found a great parking spot. Inside the mall everything felt familiar—she could have been back home with the big department stores near every exit. She found exactly what she was looking for in Macy’s and then bought a few other things she liked. That she hoped he’d like.
After the mall, she hit up Whole Foods, then made it back to Rick’s by 2:34 p.m.
* * *
“IT SMELLS FANTASTIC in here. Am I in the right house?”
Jenna’s smile was a mixture of coyness and pleasure, and as always, the sight of her made his chest tighten in a great way. As he entered the kitchen, he understood both. She hadn’t just opened a few boxes. There were all sorts of things on the counters and even in the cupboards. There was also a lasagna the size of a small country on the stovetop and an opened bottle of red wine sitting next to a pair of his wineglasses.
On the other side of the stove there were colorful nested bowls he didn’t recognize. It was a lot. She’d worked hard doing what he should’ve done long before she got here. “Wow. You were busy.” He’d never imagined her being so domestic and wasn’t quite sure what to say. “What’s all this?”
Hesitating, she searched his face. “I thought I’d make something that we could eat tonight with enough left over to freeze in portions, so you could have some another time.” She wasn’t looking at him as she went to the new bowls. “And these are a housewarming gift. Because this is your new house and I noticed you didn’t have any. Bowls, I mean. They all have lids. One’s in the fridge, though, because of the salad. And the big one would work really well for popcorn.”
“They’re great. It’s really nice of you. I mean, you had a lot of work to do for your classes, and it looks as if you’ve spent all day on me.”
The smile she gave him was off. “Not all day.”
He lifted her chin, and even then she didn’t seem to want to meet his gaze. “Thank you. Again. Really. You’ve done more in a day than I’ve done since I moved in. It feels very homey.”
“Well, I, uh... Happy housewarming.” She took a deep breath and slipped away. “Are you at all hungry? I can serve up dinner now, if you want.”
“Tell you what, let me get washed up and changed, then I can’t wait to taste that lasagna.”
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll just pour some wine, then.”
Rick wasn’t really sure why seeing all the plates and things in the cupboard made him uncomfortable. He’d never expected Jenna to go to so much trouble for him. His head was spinning. He hadn’t decided about how to arrange the cupboards yet. Well, guess he didn’t have to worry about that anymore.
It was so different from anything he’d done with Faith. That didn’t make it wrong, just...weird. No, that wasn’t the right word. Hell, at his old place, the most used items in the kitchen were takeout menus. Faith never cared about cooking, and neither did he. He wasn’t sure what he’d do with those bowls, except the popcorn one. But still, Jenna had gone out of her way to make his apartment feel like a home.
He wasn’t comfortable going upstairs quite yet. Near the wine, Jenna was messing with something, he couldn’t tell what, but she was right by a long stretch of empty countertop. When Jenna turned to him, he picked her up and sat her down right there.
“Hey,” she said. “What the...? What are you doing?”
“I want to kiss you.”
“And on the countertop is important because...?”
He looked into her eyes as he made his way between her thighs, then leaned down and held her steady as he laid one on her. When her arms went around his neck, he could feel her relax. He pulled back just a bit so he could nibble on her earlobe before he whispered, “Thank you. But you’re the housewarming gift I like the best.”
“If I overstepped, I apologize.”
“No, you didn’t. I told you to do anything you wanted. It’s me,” he said. “I feel guilty and, yeah, a little embarrassed. I should’ve had these boxes unpacked and things put away long before you got here.”
“Please don’t.” Jenna touched his face. “I don’t care about that. I was so glad I could help in some small way.”
“And I appreciate it but that doesn’t excuse my obtuseness.” He frowned. “Is that a word?”
That made her laugh. “Have I told you how hot you look in this suit?” She caught his lapels and held on to him. “How was your meeting?”
“It went great. Got what we wanted.”
Her smile was soft, her gaze open and hiding nothing. Then she pulled him into another kiss.
“Okay,” he said finally. “I’ll be back shortly.”
“I’ll hold you to it,” she said and hopped down.
He left, but halfway up the stairs, he caught a motion in his peripheral vision. Jenna, at the other counter, the one where they ate, took two candles away. They weren’t his. But they were very nice.
Damn it, he thought he’d fixed things. Mostly it was that she’d surprised him. He thought she’d been doing what she called her teacher’s homework.
Evidently her uneasiness was contagious. He was still feeling a little off, himself. He hadn’t lied. He did feel guilty. But not just because he hadn’t unpacked. Back in Chicago, he’d wondered if he was being a selfish prick for staying involved with her. He had no doubts about it now. Selfish prick might be an understatement.
He was crazy about her, there was no getting around that, but that didn’t change anything. She had her life in Boston. He had his here. The work he was doing was making a difference. Literally, people’s lives had been changed for the better. But chasing storms? Chasing the rush when the earth showed her incredible power? Hell, yeah, it was dangerous, but so was driving on the freeway.
In one way he wished she’d never seen that picture of him in his office. He knew it had gotten to her because of some of the questions she’d been asking him about exit strategies during a storm. On the other hand, she needed to understand exactly what he did. He doubted she’d ever be able to see his life in any other terms but unpredictable and dangerous. Everything she didn’t want in a partner.