the plastic holder in front of me. “You’re going down, clown.”
Lucky laughs and selects his own tiles, shaking his head and smiling as he sets them up. “They don’t call me Lucky for nothin’, babe. It’s you that’s goin’ down like a clown.”
What ensues is the most rousing game of Scrabble I’ve ever participated in. Lucky alternately begs for mercy, prods me into taking risks I shouldn’t, cries in defeat, and yells in triumph. I’m not sure he wins with actual spelling skill, but there’s no doubt he comes out ahead in points. I’m pretty sure it was his strategy to mess with my mind all along. He kept touching me gently, winking at me, complimenting me . . . An hour later, I’m a puddle of mush and he’s 100 points ahead when the last tile is laid on the board.
He leans back in his chair, lacing his fingers together and placing them behind his head. “I told you I’m good at Scrabble.”
“You cheated.” I sweep all the tiles together and dump them into the bag, folding the board up and putting it in the box. The game still looks brand-new, but I have a feeling over the next few months we’re going to wear it out. This is the most fun I’ve ever had staying in.
“I’m going to make some tea,” Lucky says. “Would you like some?”
“No, thanks.” I want to go upstairs, brush my teeth, and shave my legs before I get into bed with him. It’s not that I expect something to happen, but if it does, I want to be prepared. Like May said to Marc . . . no guy wants to get the cactus treatment when he snuggles up close.
While Lucky busies himself with the kettle in the kitchen, I race upstairs, headed right for my bathroom. I haven’t been this nervous or excited about a guy in as long as I can remember. It’s almost like we’re going out on a date, but it’s in the house, and he’s my roommate and the father of my twin babies. Heck, maybe he’ll be my boyfriend one day.
This is so not like me to be worrying about a man’s status in my life. I’m going to blame it on the babies throwing my hormones out of whack.
Of course, because I’m in a hurry, I cut myself shaving. I hiss with the pain. Dammit, I knew I shouldn’t have used a new blade.
A knock comes at the door. “You okay in there?”
“Yes. I just cut myself shaving.”
There’s a pause before he answers. “Do you always shave before you go to bed?”
“Yes.” I hold my breath, wondering if he’s buying my lie.
“Okay. I’ll be in bed waiting for you.”
My heart races. Is he going to be naked? I can’t remember what he looks like without his clothes on. I think I was too busy rolling around getting sweaty with him to pay much attention. I know he’s got awesome pecs and a serious set of abs, but the rest of him . . . I have no idea. I just know that we fit together like two pieces of a very complicated puzzle.
I brush my hair out, amazed at how long it’s getting. The prenatal vitamins I’ve been taking are making everything grow, I guess. I brush and floss my teeth and then brush a second time, following it up with a heavy-duty dose of mouthwash that I gargle for twice as long as it says to, leaving my gums stinging.
From a drawer in the attached walk-in closet, I pull out my sexiest nightgown. It’s dark red and silky, with black lace around the edges of the bodice. Hopefully it won’t stay on me for very long, because it’s not the most comfortable thing to sleep in. Plus, I definitely want to do this sex thing. Screw just sleeping together. If we’re going to live together, we might as well enjoy some of the added benefits, right?
I slide the nightgown over my body and let it fall into place. The hem ends just below my butt. It’s loose enough that Lucky won’t see my belly, which I consider a bonus. No need to remind him that there are two babies floating around in there. Talk about a turn-off.
I lean in close to the mirror, checking for flaws. May says I’m really pretty, but I don’t see it. My face looks average to me. I swear I’m starting to get wrinkles around my mouth. May would say