Page 25 of New York Love Stories: Vol. 2

“I’m uh . . .” Sighing, I ask, “Do you mind closing your eyes for one minute. I need to grab a pair of shorts, and unfortunately, those shorts are closer to you.”

He looks to his side and reaches down to a pile of clothes I’d dumped on the futon earlier. The lace of a hot pink thong wraps around his finger, and he stills. I stop breathing altogether, frozen to the spot—horrified, mortified, and every otherfied—that he’s seeing my underwear for the first time.

Sure, I wear comfy clothes on the daily, but I like to keep things spicy underneath. Sue me . . .oh wait, he’s a lawyer and could.

When the slyest of smirks plays along his lips, my heart thunders in my chest until he sets it to the side to take hold of a turquoise pair of running shorts and asks, “These?”

I press my hand to my forehead and gasp for air. “Those work.” He tosses them to me and then turns just before I reach for them. After slipping them on, I step out of hiding. “All good.”

His hands are in his pockets, and he’s looking as dapper as ever. “Are you going to give me a tour?”

“Sure.” I laugh, moving next to the bed. “Look left, now right. That’s the kitchen. Behind me is the bedroom. Behind you is the living room. That concludes our tour for today. Don’t forget to tip your guide.” I give him a wink and click my tongue.

There’s a sweetness to his smile that’s not often seen. Although I do remember seeing it last night when we were on the roof deck. It looks nice on him.

He chuckles. “Tipping the tour guide. You might be more Phoebe than I realized.”

“Probably.Oh!I have beer . Would you like one? I also have one or two pieces of pizza left from dinner if you’re hungry. Cammie ordered an extra large.”

“You don’t have to go to any trouble.”

“It’s no trouble, Rad.” I return to the drawer and start searching through the junk to find the bottle opener again.

He comes to stand beside me, his arm brushing against mine. He twists the metal top off one bottle and then the other. “They’re twist off.”

“Ah. Guess it’s obvious I only keep beer in the fridge for company.”

There’s no great rush to leave. Standing next to each other, he glances over, giving me a charming boyish smile. It reminds me of when we were in college with no real responsibilities in life. Grades and part-time jobs. Afternoons spent studying in Central Park and lattes down in Washington Square. The six of us were inseparable.

Life loves throwing curveballs. All we can do is step up to the plate and swing. “Pizza?”

“No, I’m good,” he says, now grinning to himself. He returns to the futon and pushes the clothes pile to the side before sitting down. “You like pizza, but it looks like you cook, too.”

I settle on the bed, leaning against the headboard, but glance at the dishes in the sink. “Yeah, I’m broke, so I have to cook.”

“You meet us out for meals.”

I laugh lightly, and then say, “That’s why I eatinthe rest of the time.” When he doesn’t laugh, I bite my lip, feeling awkward. “I do enjoy cooking, though, so it works out.”

“You can cook whenever you want when you move in.” The way his head tilts down and his eyes study me, I’m curious what he’s thinking. “I have a lot of top-of-the-line cookware that never gets any action.”

“I can relate,” I say under my breath.

“What?”

Ack!“Um, I can make use of those pots and pans. Cooking for two will be more fun than for one.”

I stare at him while he takes a long pull from the bottle.

Oh.

My.

God.

Captivated by the way the light brings out the golden centers of his eyes, I stare at him. His magnetism has my tummy tightening. Those eyes, his broad shoulders, the tailored suit, sexy-messy hair, and darkening eyes as they devour me with a look—Good lord, this man is perfection.

Why have I never been so affected by how utterly gorgeous he is before?

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