Page 30 of Suddenly Dating
He shook his head.
“Yes!”she said, making a victory pump. “Thank you! I hate cleanup.”
One corner of his mouth tipped up. “No kidding.”
“Do yourself a favor,” she said as she started out of the kitchen. “You really don’t have to stack all the plates according to color and size, you know.”
“Yes, you do!” he called after her, and heard her laugh as she shut her door.
He looked at the mess he was going to have to clean up. That’s when he noticed the half-eaten apple she’d left on the counter.Lord.
An hour later, Harry had finally finished the kitchen and was sitting on the terrace, his feet up on a stool, a half-empty beer dangling from his hands. The window for working had passed; his brain had checked out for the day. He was idly thinking of throwing some wood onto the fire pit when he heard the click of heels behind him. He turned his head with as little effort as he could manage, but Lola made him sit up and look again.
Her shoulder length hair was all waves, and bangs brushed across her forehead in a very sultry way. She was wearing a buttery yellow halter dress made from silk or something like it. It had a bit of flounce in the hem just above her knee. And her legs... well, now, he hadn’t really paid them enough attention before now. She had some very shapely legs that disappeared under that skirt and just soared right on up. They looked especially good in the pair of shiny gold high heels she wore. She looked fantastic, utterly delectable, about as hot as a girl could be, and the male in him was taking notice.
He slowly gained his feet. He tried not to be a pig, tried not to look her up and down, but he couldn’t help himself. He shoved one hand into his jeans pocket. “Nice,” he said, nodding approvingly.
She flashed a dubious look as she draped a sweater over her arm. “Seriously?”
“Yes. Seriously.” More than seriously. He hadn’t been this...attractedto a woman since Melissa. There was something about the yellow dress and the way it fit her that caused the pistons in him to crank.
“Would you mind?” she asked, and presented her bare back to him. The dress was zipped halfway up. “It’s a little tight and I can’t get it all the way.”
Harry looked at her back, the smooth skin. He could see her spine, her shoulder blades. He had a sudden and insane urge to kiss her back.
Lola glanced over her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he said, and zipped her up, trying not to make actual contact. But it was impossible; his fingers brushed against the middle of her back, and a tiny little shiver went shooting up his fingertips.
“Thank you.” She turned back around, and ran her palm over her belly to smooth her dress. “I never know what to wear to a party. Do you? I mean what if I show up in a dress and everyone is sitting around in shorts and Tevas?” She paused, thinking, and bit her lower lip. “Maybe I should put on some something more casual—”
“No.”
Lola looked at him, surprised.
“You look great, Lola. Really... great,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets again. “If you’re going to a party with people in shorts and sandals, you’re out of their league.”
A smile of pleasure lit her face, and it occurred to Harry he’d not seen Melissa smile like that in a very long time. Had he neglected to tell her she was beautiful?
“Why, thank you, Harry Westbrook. That might be the nicest thing a guy has ever said to me. It’s amazing what a little mac and cheese can do for someone’s mood.” She was still smiling as she opened her tiny purse, took out a lipstick, and dabbed some on using her shadowy reflection in the glass door. “I’m going to go wait outside for my ride. Have a good night!”
“You, too.” He watched her walk into the house and across the living room, jogging up the two steps to the door. When the front door closed behind her, Harry shook his head. This roommate situation was highly precarious for a guy like him. When a woman cooked like she didandlooked like that, it made him think of all the things a guy wasn’t supposed to think about his roommate.
With Lola gone, Harry moved into the living room and watched some baseball. And he kept watching baseball, long after the game had ceased to be interesting. He was bone-tired, yet he remained on the couch. Harry didn’t want to admit it to himself, but he was sort of waiting up for her. He wanted to see her in that yellow dress again.
What was he even thinking, anyway? He hardly knew her. He’d talked to her three or four times, and most of it had been a little infuriating. He just really liked that dress.
Andthat mac and cheese.
At half past eleven, he gave in to his body’s need for rest. He had a lot to do the next morning. Harry was dreaming about bridges and a crane that was rolling away from him when the distant ringing of a phone startled him awake.
He sat up, confused, and rubbed his face with his fingers. His cell phone was on the nightstand—whose phone was ringing? He got up, stumbled toward the sound of the phone wearing nothing but his boxers, and finally located it in the small office alcove off the kitchen. “Hello?” he said with gruff curiosity.
“Harry? Thank God! Harry, it’s me!”
“Me,” he repeated uncertainly. “Who is me?”
“Lola! Your roommate!”
