Mismatch - By Nana Malone Page 0,46
roads led to Samson.
Chapter 13
“I am not nervous, I am not nervous. I am not…” Ah who the hell was she kidding? Jessica was nervous. What the hell had possessed her to say yes to a date with Eli? Because you wanted to, and because he makes you feel alive in the most delicious ways. That, and he'd been so sweet to her last night.
As the cab dropped her off, she eyed the fancy downtown L.A. building. Since the city had started to clean up the area, the developers had steamrolled into the city, erecting towering, hip lofts and apartments. How the hell could Eli afford this? It struck her then that she didn’t know much about him, except that he was a gifted artist. Most artists she knew shared their workspace with their living space, and there were paint splatters and boxes and canvases everywhere. Kind of like his studio had been, with its small kitchen area.
None of the artists she knew had the funds to afford a loft downtown. Unless someone was funding him. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Jess,” she muttered to herself as slid into the lobby.
The doorman greeted her at the front desk. “Ms. Stanton, Mr. Marks would like you to go on up. His number is 1122.”
Miss Stanton. Jessica reigned in the desire to snort. Instead, she murmured a ‘thank you’ and made her way to the elevator on the right. The interior lobby was steel and glass and marble. Cool. Modern. Nothing warm here, except for the paintings on the walls. They were warm and embracing with their oranges and mustards and soft golds, but they weren’t that visually appealing. Still, it was better than concrete.
As she hit the button for the 11th floor, she tried not to fidget. Unfortunately, there was no telling her palms not to sweat. And of course, she'd worn satin. Satin and sweaty pits did not a hot look make.
When the elevator slowed and came to a halt, the doors slid open, and there was Eli in all his glory, wearing cream-colored linen pants and a soft green sweater that brought out the jade in his eyes. Jessica dragged in a shuddering breath. “Hi,” she mumbled feeling suddenly self-conscious.
“Hi, yourself,” he muttered as his eyes drank her in, starting at the top of her roots, lingering on her face, before slowly traversing to her breasts and then downward. “You look incredible.”
“Thanks.” She looked around. Speaking of incredible... “Nice digs.”
He grinned and took her hand. “Wait till you see the view.”
“Oh, there's a view?” As he pulled her closer, she drank in everything about him. The feel of his large hand wrapped around hers, cocooning her in heat and welcome. That cologne of his tickling her senses, daring her to do naughty things. And his overall sex appeal—she suddenly lamented having poured herself into a skin tight dress. They were notoriously difficult to take off without a little assistance.
Eli hung a left at the hall and led her into a spacious loft unit that overlooked the city. Floor to ceiling windows covered the place; she could see as far as the night sky would allow. Her breath caught, and she stumbled.
“Are you okay?” His soft words brought her out of her shock.
“Jesus, yeah. I mean, would you look at this place? I'm starting to wonder what you need me to be your manager for?”
His brows furrowed. “Jess, I sublet this place. A friend of mine is letting me stay while I find somewhere permanent to live. I'd stay at the studio, but I need some separation.”
“Oh, yeah, okay. I mean, it's beautiful.”
“Yeah, it is. I worked in insurance before I decided to go back to art, so I can afford the rent here for now, but I probably won't stay, no matter how gorgeous that view is.”
She took stock of the rest of the apartment: cherry hardwood floors, ultra-modern furnishings, everything neat, everything had a place. The cherry dining room table and granite counters all sported burning candles, which cast the apartment in a soft glow.
It was only after she'd done a complete one-hundred-and-eighty degree revolution around the house that her other senses kicked in. As soon as she smelled the rosemary and thyme, her stomach grumbled. “What’s for dinner?”
“Chicken picatta. I take it you’re hungry?”
She giggled. “It's like you read my mind. But here’s a hint. I’m always hungry.”
“Noted. Wine?”
“Yes, please.”
***
For the rest of the dinner, they danced around each other like two strangers who hadn't already spent