Page 42 of Dirty Dealer
“Hey.”
Her appearance in my kitchen catches me off guard and I almost spill my coffee. “Hey,” I manage to say back. My gaze lifts to find her dressed for work. Another outfit, one that hugs her curves and sends a jolt of lust below my belt. Red lips. Bold jewelry. Bag in hand. I like her sense of style. It’s confident, trendy, and only piques my interest in learning more about her. “Coffee? Breakfast?”
“No, thank you.” She glances around my kitchen, then over to where it opens to the living room. Her eyes widen. In the daylight, the view is even more spectacular. Is she pleased with my place? I hope so. I spent a good chunk of money creating this oasis from the city.
“Don’t tell me you’re one of those monsters who can operate without a caffeine fix?” I say with a grin, then take a long sip from my cup to reiterate the point.
“God, no.” She laughs, a shallow, tight sound as if she’s a little uncomfortable. Understandable, since we’ve only just met. Still, it bothers me a little. I want her to be relaxed staying here.
“Sure I can’t make you one for the road?” I lift my mug.
“Tempting.” She glances at my lips and maybe I imagine it, but her cheeks darken with a blush. “But I’ll grab one at work. I don’t want to be late.”
Right. I glance at the clock. We need to leave. That’s probably the source of her discomfort. “Ready?”
Walter saunters into the kitchen. I walked him earlier, and he’s been napping near the window since. Of course he walks right past my legs, straight for Rachel, tail wagging for his new best friend.Traitor.
“Yeah.” She crouches to give Walter a quick pat on the head, then stands, sliding on a pair of shades from her bag and strutting toward the door. Damn. She could be one of the actors on set, she’s that beautiful. Though, part of me is thankful she’s not. There are people who handle that kind of fame really well, but for most . . . well, it goes to their head. Makes them feel above others. Elitist. Rachel isn’t at all like that. She may work on the top movie set with the most famed actors, but at the end of the day she can still walk down Hollywood Boulevard without getting mobbed.
Or at least I hope.
Maybe she’ll allow me to take her out to dinner tonight. To test my theory.
I swipe my keys and grab my coffee off the counter. A chuckle leaves my lips. Walter usually waits for me to pocket my keys before skittering to the door, but today, he’s raced ahead. Following Rachel. “You have a shadow.”
Rachel glances down, her lips pulling with a grin.
Walter whines, his big eyes glued to the door, but he doesn’t move from her side.
“He’s okay here by himself?”
“He’ll live.”
“He’s the sweetest.” She smiles and rocks from side to side, her skirt swishing around her legs. “You’re gonna miss me, aren’t you?”
Hell, yes.I almost respond before I realize she’s talking to the dog. Fuck, he really is winning more points than I am. “Stay.” I point at Walter.
“You know, you really don’t need to drive me.”
“No. I do.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’ll catch an Uber after work.”
“You better not.” I open the door for her.
She doesn’t move. “But that really puts you out. Honestly, Jude. I don’t mind.”
“I like driving you.” The moment the words fly from my lips I realize it’s the truth. I enjoy spending time with her, so much that I’m hungry for any opportunity. Can’t get enough. Don’t want to waste a precious minute. Which is insane. Crazy. So unexpected, I can hardly accept these feelings. Especially considering we haven’t so much as kissed. I’d kiss her right now, but I enjoy her friendship. Value it. I don’t want to ruin what we have, and that only makes me want her more. God, what is wrong with me? Is this how it happens? Why my friend Chance is so devoted to Aubrey?Is Rachel my Aubrey?Am I ready for that?A wave of nerves crash over me with the force of the entire fucking ocean. Fuck, I feel like I’m gonna pass out. Or puke.Good God, man.Get a grip.
Walter whines at the open door, the fact neither of us have moved through it making him more anxious.
“Jude?” Rachel says, her tone laced with concern.
“Bring him with,” I manage to grunt out, needing to divert her attention from the loss of blood flow to my brain. I grab the leash and drag in a breath, steeling my rattled senses.
Walter goes berserk at the sight of the leash, dancing in circles and hopping on his hind legs with appreciative yips. The distraction works.
Rachel laughs, I hook the leash to his collar, and the three of us retreat into the elevator with her focus on my dog.
