Revving Her Up(27)
Disappointment shot through her. She was no stranger to slipping out of a lover’s bed after a night of sex, and getting going before the awkward morning-after bit. But it had always been someone else’s bed she’d left, not someone’s bed she’d been left in. Oh well, he couldn’t have gone far.
From the glow of sunlight peeking around the edges of the curtain, it was later than she usually slept. The digital clock on the end table said 9:00. What a luxury. On a normal day, she’d have already been in the office for hours. She sat up with a yawn and a satisfying stretch, feeling twinges in muscles she never knew she had.
She looked around. Her bag was still in the garage and yesterday’s clothes were nowhere to be seen so she’d have to borrow something of Cole’s. The thought of it made her feel warm inside.
Where to find something? The dresser probably held T-shirts and boxer shorts, so she hopped off the bed and headed for the double closet that covered one wall. She slid aside one of the doors and found a row of hanging plaid shirts and work pants. Work boots, cowboy boots and comfortable slip-on shoes lay in a jumble below them.
She tugged a blue-and-green plaid shirt off its hanger and slipped her arms into the sleeves. She fastened a couple of buttons to hold it closed and rolled the cuffs up past her elbows. The fabric smelled like laundry detergent but still held a hint of Cole’s spicy cologne mixed with wood smoke and engine grease. It was the most masculine combination she’d ever inhaled.
She was closing the closet when she spotted a shoebox in the shadows on the other side of the closet. She looked closer—was that a Dolce and Gabbana logo?
She opened the other side of the closet and froze.
The space before her could have come from a window display at Barneys New York. Crisp button-down shirts of various pale hues hung next to a rack full of dark suits. A shoe rack on the floor held polished dress and casual shoes, every one of them bearing a designer name. Kenneth Cole. Ralph Lauren. Hugo Boss. She pulled a navy blue tie off a hanger and glanced at the label. Armani.
What the hell?
She’d expect to find clothes like this in Trent’s or Manny’s wardrobes, not Cole’s. When would he wear stuff like this? Where? She ran a finger along the lapel of a charcoal Armani suit. She’d only seen him in jeans and flannel. Would he clean up nicely? Probably. Too bad she’d never get to see it herself.
Brushing aside an odd prick of regret, she turned toward the sound of footsteps in the hall. The bedroom door opened and the smell of coffee wafted into the room. Cole appeared in the doorway and her mouth went dry. He wore only a pair of drawstring pants that hung low on his hips, revealing a deep vee of muscle that dipped below his waistband. Damn, the man would look good in anything—or nothing. Sarah felt a tug in her belly, the urge to grasp those muscles and to trace their contours down…
“Mornin’, darlin’. I come bearing gifts.”
Cole stepped into the room carefully balancing the tray he carried. Although he was sure she drank coffee—he’d never met a New Yorker who didn’t—he wasn’t sure how she took it so he’d brought a bit of everything.
When he caught sight of Sarah standing by the closet he stumbled, almost dropping the tray. He’d expected her to still be in bed but she’d gotten up and found herself something to wear. His favorite plaid shirt. It draped over her breasts and grazed her hips, landing mid-thigh. His gaze drifted down to where her fingers tugged on the hem against her leg. His cock twitched.
With a smile he looked up at her face but in place of the desire he’d hoped to see, there was a kind of embarrassed guilt. Only then did he notice the open closet door and the tie dangling from her hand. His smile disappeared.
“Gone exploring, I see.”
“I was looking for something to wear.”
“You were planning to wear a tie?”
She looked down at the blue tie, seeming surprised, as if she’d forgotten it was there. “No. I was just—”
“Checking out the merchandise?” His hand shook. He put the coffee tray on the dresser.
She shrugged. “Women like to snoop. We like clothes.” She smiled. “Especially designer clothes.”
He took a deep breath. “I hardly wear them.”
“Pity. I bet you look fine in those suits.” She smiled.
It was a compliment but he had too much experience with that kind of flattery to be pleased. “They’re from a past life—one I’ve left behind.” He moved to close the closet, but she stepped in his way, clearly unwilling to let the subject drop.
“But you still have the clothes.”