Love on Lexington Avenue - Lauren Layne Page 0,51
company.
“Claire? Bob?”
As he’d expected, his dog came bounding out of Claire’s bedroom, an unfamiliar stuffed animal in her snout. “Where’d you get that?” he muttered, wrestling the toy away from Bob and stepping into the open doorway of Claire’s bedroom without entering.
“Hey, Claire, I think Bob was well on her way to destroying . . .” He glanced down. “A pink baby dinosaur?”
Claire came out of the master bathroom, both hands to her earlobe as she put her earring in. “Oh, that’s Tooshie,” she said, nodding at the mangled ball of fluff. “I bought it for Bobsie at the pet store up the street.”
Tooshie? Bobsie?
But Scott had bigger things to worry about than his dog turning into a delicate princess, so he didn’t fight it when Bob jumped up and reclaimed the toy from Scott’s hand. Instead, he focused all of his attention on Claire, who looked . . .
Shit.
He tried to get a grip on the warning bells going off in his head at her appearance. He’d been half prepared for her to be a little frazzled and on edge at the unfinished business between them. He knew he was. He hadn’t counted on the simmer between them, couldn’t deny that it made him nervous.
But Claire didn’t look nervous. Or frazzled. She looked . . . hot. And very in control.
“That’s a hell of a dress,” he said. It was black, but nothing like the other black dress he’d seen her in. This one hit just south of mid-thigh, clung to all the right places, and was tied in bows at the shoulders in what managed to be both innocent and seductive.
“Oh. Thanks.” She glanced down and gave a little smile. “Naomi and I went shopping yesterday. I was trying for something in between my usual ‘funeral garb,’ as you called it, and the outfit you picked out for me. Not that I didn’t love the whole white shirt over the black bra look, but I think that was a onetime thing for me,” she said with a smile.
“For the record, I was a big fan of that look, but this works, too,” he said, his voice huskier than it had been a moment ago. What he wouldn’t give to step forward and tug at the bows on her shoulders. Would it allow the dress to pool at her feet the way he wanted it to? Would she be wearing the same black bra that had tortured the hell out of him that night at the bar?
Then reality stepped in and shoved his fantasy out of the way.
He met her eyes and forced himself to ask the question, “You going out?”
Claire’s expression flickered for the first time since he’d entered the room. She tried to cover it with a quick smile as she stepped back into the bathroom. “Yes, and I’m running a little late. How’s my makeup?”
Blood thrumming with suspicion alongside the arousal, Scott stepped into the bathroom doorway, watched as she applied something to her cheeks.
He didn’t give a shit about her makeup. “Is it a date?”
She snapped the compact shut and met his eyes in the mirror. “Sort of. I’m still not in the market for anything serious, but I’ve come to accept that I’m too old-fashioned to sleep with someone I just met. Guess I want to be wined and dined before I jump in the sack, even if it is just casual.”
He leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb and crossed his arms. “You want romance.”
Claire looked away. “No. I mean, I guess. Maybe.” She took a breath and turned toward him. “I know I don’t want to get married again. I don’t want a boyfriend. I don’t believe in the fairy-tale ending. But apparently I need to actually like the person I’m going to sleep with.”
And I don’t qualify?
Scott managed to keep from saying it out loud, but was less successful at warding off the stab of hurt from her words.
“Anyway, I’m trying again with Brett.” She began putting the makeup scattered across the counter back in the cosmetics bag.
Hurt shifted to anger. “The guy from Saturday night?”
“He seemed really nice. He called, suggested a do-over—”
Scott had heard enough.
“Damn it, Claire!”
She jumped at his shout, dropping the makeup bag to the counter. The contents spilled out, and she started to put everything away again, but Scott was faster. Reaching out, he snagged her elbow, pulled her gently around to face him. “What game are you playing?”
She frowned. “No game.”
“Really? Because it feels a lot