For Seven Nights Only - Sarah Ballance Page 0,48

If that isn’t a leap of faith, I don’t know what is.”

“You’re not helping.” She sighed. “But okay, it’s your funeral. I’ll cook, and we’ll be one step closer to putting this behind us. Fantastic idea,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Tomorrow night. Seven?”

He cringed inwardly at her interpretation and again at the stark reality of what he’d just signed up for. As long as they had time to order takeout after, he’d be fine. But that didn’t seem to be the smartest reply, so he simply said, “I’ll be there.”

He eased back out of the way and watched her disappear behind the sliding doors. And he stood there for a long time. Long enough for the doors to pop back open when the car returned. He stepped out of the way and nodded a greeting to his neighbors, then stood there wondering if he should go upstairs and explain. He really wasn’t used to dealing with…feelings. And oddly enough, that made him feel empty inside.

His carefree life held one consequence he’d yet to consider: no one cared.

No one until Kelsie.

And he wasn’t sure what to do with that, so he went home.

Alone.

…

Kelsie sighed and pushed her ruined gravy to a cold burner at the back of the stove. She clicked off the heat and frowned. What had she been thinking? Ever since her sink turned into a geyser and landed her in the arms of a very wet, sexy downstairs neighbor, the question had become the story of her life. Now they were back where they’d started, full circle, because he had this idea that she’d learned enough in one afternoon with his mother to pull off that home-cooked meal she’d ruined the first time.

It seemed ages ago.

“Seriously, Marmaduke. What was I thinking?”

The sleeping dog lifted his head slightly, then plopped right back down, all without cracking an eyelid.

Nice.

A knock rattled the door.

Even better.

She glanced at her shirt to make sure she wasn’t covered in the evidence of yet another disaster of a meal, then opened the door.

And stopped breathing.

Sawyer stood there looking unfairly gorgeous in a suit. And holding the biggest bunch of flowers she’d ever seen outside of a florist’s shop.

“Are we going to the opera again?” she asked.

Immediately, his expression turned to worry. “Would you like to?”

“I’m not sure we’re allowed back.” She didn’t bother telling him there were other venues—ones in which they had not nearly had sex. She nodded toward the flowers. “I think my sister has fewer flowers planned for her wedding.”

At the mention of her sister’s wedding, his face fell a notch, but he didn’t mention the wedding or her date…or lack thereof. And it was then she realized just how much their agreement had backfired. Making plans with another guy while “dating” Sawyer, however artificially, felt wrong.

She wanted him.

“Hopefully you won’t decide to kick them into the hallway,” he joked.

She managed a weak grin as she accepted the bouquet and stepped out of the doorway so he could come inside. “Just don’t give me a reason. God, Sawyer, this must have cost you a fortune.”

“Rule number…whatever we’re on. Don’t second-guess a gift unless you want to make a guy feel like he’s done something wrong.”

“Maybe I just want to distract you from what became of the meal I cooked,” she said warily. Dazed. She wanted him. How could she after what he’d said to his brothers? He was the opposite of what she wanted. He was…not living up to his well-earned reputation. Estelle said he hadn’t been to his usual haunt, picking up women, and Kelsie hadn’t seen him stumble out of the elevator with anyone but her. But that didn’t mean anything had changed. Just that he was respectful enough of her not to have sex with anyone else.

At least not yet.

“I’m sure the food is fine. But if you want distraction,” he said with a grin, “I can absolutely provide distraction.” He took back the flowers and put them on the table, then walked her backwards until the backs of her legs touched the sofa. “The best kind of distraction.”

“Don’t those flowers need water? And…my…gravy…” His lips on her skin made finishing the thought impossible.

“I think,” he said, “we need to take this time to consider a few important skills that might come in handy in the future.”

“For someone else?”

His eyes darkened, and for a moment she regretted the jab. Then he said, “Sweetheart, give me thirty seconds, and I guarantee you won’t be thinking about anyone