She bit back a burst of nervous laughter and sawed harder with the knife. Sorry these are a bit overcooked. I didn’t hear the timer over the loud sex.
Sawyer came up behind her and slid his arms around her waist, sending thrills through her. The man was heaven. Heaven. But it was just physical. Had to be.
While one of his hands crept lower, the other went for a brownie. She smacked his arm, but not before he’d snatched one. “Those aren’t for you.”
“Too late.” He popped the dessert in his mouth and immediately made a face.
“Did I mention they’re still hot?”
He shook his head and started rooting around the small kitchen. Calmly, she handed him a paper towel, which he snatched from her. “No, you did not,” he said a moment later.
“Lesson learned.”
“You’ve got that right.” He looked queasy. And gorgeous.
And entirely too much like heartbreak.
Chapter Twelve
In the elevator, Sawyer pushed the button for his floor. Kelsie looked at him in confusion.
“I borrowed a spoon from my mom,” he said, “and I need to return it.” Lies. What he really needed was to brush his teeth. That brownie was inexplicably worse than her buttermilk, garlic mashed potatoes, which was an accomplishment. The worst kind.
The doors slid open on his floor, and Kelsie hesitated. He grabbed her hand. “You’re not going to stand there smashing the door open button until I get back, are you? Come on.”
His last words were moot. By then he had her halfway down the corridor, those horrible brownies clutched in her free hand like she was headed to the gallows. The woman needed to relax. He’d hoped to do that with the sex, not that he needed a motive for that, but apparently he’d only reminded her of the countdown…and the end.
No wonder she looked like someone kicked her dog.
Or like anyone who had ever eaten her cooking.
He unlocked his apartment and gestured for her to enter first. She did so, but hesitantly.
“It’s not dangerous in here. I promise.” He paused to point out the damage she’d caused to his ceiling. The water stain was huge, the spot of flaking plaster considerably smaller. “Except there.”
To her credit, she looked slightly horrified. “I did that?”
“Yep, and maintenance has promised to be up here for repairs within the next six months, but if it actually caves, they’ll try to move me up a day or two.”
She averted her gaze from the ceiling to him. Aghast, she asked, “Is that even legal?”
He shrugged. “It’s classified as a water stain. They probably don’t have to fix it at all. Make yourself at home. I’ll be right back.” He headed for the bathroom and felt about ten times better after he brushed his teeth. It really was the little things. He had no idea how she’d screwed up a boxed brownie mix, but she’d done so beautifully. They tasted like bark. Hot bark.
He wiped his mouth on a towel and exited to find her standing where he’d left her. Clearly she’d decided not to get comfortable. The place might be a touch Spartan—mostly leather, hardwood, and electronics—but it was clean. Other than the spot on the ceiling. But they’d already established that was her fault. “You ready?”
She raised a skeptical brow. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
“Am I?”
“Your mother’s spoon?”
Ah, shit. “I guess having you so close to my bedroom made me forget.”
Her brow lifted. “And what percentage of the population of New York has not heard that line?”
He inwardly winced. “I thought that was my selling point. Experience, I mean.”
“You’re right.” She sighed. “I should remember that.”
Her agreement hit him straight in the gut. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing.”
He touched her arm. “No, no nothing. Something’s wrong, and it has been since date five became a thing.”
A dozen shadows passed over her face before she seemed to settle on one. “I just have a hard time telling what’s real and what the lines are.”
He took the brownies out of her hand and placed them on the counter—with any luck, she’d forget them—and took her hands. “No lines. None. I’m not going to lie to you,” he said uber-solemnly. “Not even for sex.”
Her brow quirked. “You went to the opera with me.”
“But did I pretend I wanted to be there?”
Now she laughed. “No.”
“I rest my case,” he said, grateful for the lighter mood. He didn’t trust himself to examine anything below the surface—not hers and definitely not his. “You can trust me,” he said. “Now let’s get moving.”
He took her hand and headed for