Marrying Mr. Wrong (Dirty Martini Running Club #3) - Claire Kingsley Page 0,53

just make a mess.

A few more turns and I could tell we were heading for my apartment. And he hadn’t asked me to come to his place.

Which was probably for the best. Because, really, how could a man like Cox ever love a hot mess like me? And if he couldn’t ever love me, but he still wanted me, it would be exactly what I was trying to avoid. I’d be a brief distraction. A blip in his smooth, sophisticated life.

A plaything. Temporary.

I didn’t want to be somebody’s tonight. Not even his. I wanted to be someone’s tomorrow.

So when he pulled up outside my building, I wasn’t too disappointed. Even though I’d embarrassingly scraped my chin, it had been a great day. And it felt like I’d seen a different side of Cox. Maybe a bit more of the real man, the one behind the bravado.

Which, okay, only made me like him more.

“Hang on, I’ll walk you up,” he said.

He got out and I wondered if I should ask him to come inside, although my apartment was tiny and unimpressive. I wasn’t sure if I wanted him to see it.

He opened the door and helped me out, casting wary glances up and down the street. As we walked up to the front, I second-guessed myself. Maybe I’d been reading him all wrong. Maybe when he’d said he was just playing with me, he’d meant he was kidding. That he didn’t really want to peel off my sweaty clothes or do any of the things he’d texted that day. Maybe I’d been misreading him completely.

But that kiss.

Feeling suddenly flustered, I fumbled for my keys and lost my grip on my purse. Cox grabbed it almost before it left my hands.

“Got it?”

“Yeah. I’ve got it. Thanks.” I finally fished out my keys. “I had a nice time today.”

“So did I. I’ll have Cynthia hunt down some more houses for us to check out.”

Right. Houses. Back to business. “That sounds great.”

“All right, sugar. Have a good night.”

My eyes were downcast. I couldn’t make myself look up. I was too afraid of what I’d see. Would it be friendliness? Or heat?

And which did I want it to be?

I didn’t know. Or I did, and I was too chicken to admit it. And the thought of Cox walking into my crappy apartment, when he lived in a lakefront mansion, was suddenly a very overwhelming thought.

So I unlocked the door and went inside.

Damn it.

I went down the hallway and up the stairs to the third floor in a haze of confusion. Why was I so upset? Even if I did want something to happen with Cox, it wasn’t like tonight was my only chance. We’d still see each other, even if it was just to do more house hunting for my dad.

But I was unsettled. Uncertain.

And so distracted, I was in my apartment before it registered that the door had been unlocked.

Uh-oh.

I stopped in my tracks without shutting the door behind me, my heart suddenly pounding. Had I left the door unlocked all day? Although I tended to blunder through life, I was so careful about locking doors. This wasn’t exactly the best neighborhood.

And then I heard something in the bedroom. Through the partially open door, a shadow moved.

Someone was in my apartment.

19

Cox

Fuck. I should have kissed her.

Why hadn’t I kissed her? I could have. I knew I could have. And regardless of whether it had turned into a let’s go upstairs kiss or a goodnight and see you soon kiss, I should have done it.

Fuck.

I went back to my car and got in. Hit the steering wheel. I was out of my depth here. Flying blind. I hadn’t spent the day trying to woo Sophie into bed with me. I hadn’t spent the day trying to do anything specific, other than look at houses for her dad. The rest had just… happened. Even the rooftop picnic hadn’t been an attempt at getting in her pants, although it had been romantic as fuck. Had to give myself a little credit for that idea.

The lack of a clear objective made it hard to know what to do. I hadn’t meant to kiss her outside that house, but I had, and holy fuck it had felt good. Then I hadn’t tried to use the kiss as a way to suggest sex. Which was decidedly unlike me. But there was something about Sophie that was messing with my head. Messing with my mojo.

Shit.

Something on the passenger side floor caught

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