His Lucky Penny (The Penny Books, #1)

by LL Meyer

  We ride in companionable silence for a while, both of us enjoying just being near one another and drinking our coffee.

  “Dane?” she finally says. “Do you live in Portland?”

  “No, almost there.” I take the exit off the highway and then turn off into the driveway a few minutes later. We have to park quite a ways back from the house, because the driveway is littered with cars we haven’t bothered to put in the garage, but that’s okay. I want her to see the house. I figure it’s something that she’d appreciate.

  “Do you like it?” I ask, looking down at her as I turn the engine off. Her eyes are wide with what I assume is disbelief as she takes it in.

  “It’s amazing.”

  “It’s a modern . . .”

  “Shingle style,” she finishes, and then turns to me with a grin. “No turrets?”

  I smile. “No, no turrets, and the covered porch is in the back.”

  “Did you design it?”

  I take my seatbelt off and slouch a bit in my seat. “Kind of. I told them what I wanted, and they drew up the plans.”

  She turns back to the house, and I can practically hear her mind going over every gable, window, peak, and shingle. She stares and stares.

  “Are you ogling my house?” I finally ask.

  Her laugh is sweet and hearty. “I am. How long have you had it?”

  “Almost two years.”

  “How long did it take to build?”

  I groan. “After the plans were finalized, a little under a year. I should have just hired someone to handle the whole thing, but I learned a lot.”

  “You did it yourself?” I can hear the respect in her voice, and it makes me feel good. That a girl I find attractive knows anything about contracting at all feels like a miracle that’s too good to be true.

  I nod.

  “Jason didn’t help you?”

  Snorting, I shake my head. “Jason picked the color.”

  She laughs again.

  “Do I dare ask how big it is?”

  “Just over five thousand square feet.”

  She raises an eyebrow. “For two single guys?”

  “Hey, if I don’t want to see him, I don’t have to. That’s his side,” I say pointing to the left. “And that’s my side.”

  “Well, you obviously got the better deal,” she jokes.

  This makes me smile. “Actually, I did. But he doesn’t know that, so don’t tell him. I don’t think he’s ever actually sat back and really looked at it.”

  “But you have.” It’s not a question.

  Our eyes meet, and the pull of her tugs fiercely on something inside of me. “I know every inch of that house.”

  “This might sound strange, but could you walk through it in here?” She runs her finger along my forehead.

  I grin. “Of course. Every room.”

  She nods. “When I design something, I spend tons of time in it in my head. I bet it was amazing to watch the progress of it being built.”

  No, what’s amazing is talking to someone who feels the same way I do about something that’s important to me. “It was.”

  She looks back at the house.

  I ask her, “And what kind of buildings do you fantasize about?”

  Grinning, she thinks about it before she answers. “I think any space can be beautiful if enough thought goes into it, size doesn’t really matter,” she says, biting her lip as she smiles. “But I guess I prefer things that are for personal use. Something like an office building is kind of sterile for my taste.”

  My pocket starts buzzing, but I ignore it. I’m sure it’s Jason who should have known better than to say something like that to her. Lily is giggling again. I look up to see her watching Jason come out of the house with his phone pressed to his ear. The buzzing in my pants stops when he sees us. Shaking his head, he gets in the Range Rover and comes around the circle drive to pull up beside us in the opposite direction.

  He rolls down his window, but I ignore him. This has Lily giggling even more. She pushes the key forward and then reaches over me to open the window.

  “Hey, Pretty Girl.” I bet he’s smiling at her, but I refuse to look at him, so I’m only guessing.

  “Hey. I think he’s mad at you.”

  “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

  She hangs herself out the window across my lap, purposely brushing her boob in my face, I’m sure, to pass him his coffee.

  “Thanks,” he says. “I’m guessing he’s not planning on showing up for work today.”

  “That’s probably a good guess,” she says. The way her back is swayed as she rests her elbows on my window shows off her self-proclaimed hot ass. I run my hand along her back and then over her ass, squeezing as I go.” She jumps, and I laugh softly.

  “Just remind him,” Jason says, “that we’ve got a final inspection today at noon.”

  I swear under my breath. I’d forgotten about that.

  “I’ll do that.”

  I hear Jason drive away and she pulls herself in the window, frowning at me as she goes. “That was a bit juvenile.”

  “Grabbing your ass?”

  “No, not talking to him.” Her frown melts into a smile. “You can grab my ass whenever you want.” She takes her coffee from the cup holder and opens the passenger door. Before she gets out, she turns to me. “I want a tour of your fabulous house and I have to eat something. I’m starving! I haven’t eaten since yesterday’s IHOP.”

  I shake my head as I get out of the truck and grab her laundry from the back. She’s like dice, I think. Constantly in motion and I’m completely incapable of predicting what combination will pop up. I was sure she would have at least been annoyed by the ass grab, but instead she’s lost all of her innocence and has moved on to teasing me.

  “Lil?”

  “Hmmm?” She’s still looking up at the house as we walk.

  “I’m sorry I yelled at you last night.”

  She turns to me.

  “It’s important,” I continue, “that you don’t let me bully you . . . in any way.” I hope she knows that I’m talking about things like the ass grab. And last night, I shouldn’t have made her take her clothes off like that. Ten years of being unconcerned about women’s feelings or the way in which I go about giving them orgasms is going to be a hard habit to break. I don’t hurt women, exactly; I’m not even as rough as Jason, but she deserves better than what I’ve been dishing out for the last decade.

  She stops walking, her head cocked to the side as she tries to decipher my words. Finally shrugging, she averts her eyes, saying, “A little bullying might be good for me. I’ve been feeling sorry for myself for too long.”

  I frown. That’s low self-esteem talking.

  “But don’t worry,” she says when she notices my expression. “I won’t let you get away with it all the time.” She changes the subject. “Are all these cars really yours?”

  I scan the driveway. “I guess. Mostly, I just wanted the Audi. Jason picked all those,” I say, gesturing to the rest. “And the two smaller trucks are for work.”

  “Can we take that one next time?” She points to the GLK. “I’ve never been in a Mercedes before.”

  I smile. It’s the first time she’s ever asked anything of me, and my chest swells with pleasure. “Sure.”

  At the front door, I punch the code on the keypad and one side of the double doors swings open. I watch her face light up as she goes in. The foyer is open and soars up to where the skylights allow the sun in.

  “It’s beautiful, Dane.”

  I put the laundry down, smiling at her, watching her eyes go up the curving staircase to the landing that looks over us. “You want the whole tour?” I ask, as I kick off my boots and she does the same with her sneakers.

  She just nods, taking everything in.

  “This,” I say, as I push the door open to our right, “is the office.”

  She’s taken aback. “It’s huge.”

  “It needs to be,” I say with a
laugh. “If we don’t stay organized, the money will stop coming in.”

  “You can’t possibly do all . . . this by yourself.”

  “Definitely not. Sharon and Jessica work Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday. This side is for flips, and that side is for rentals.”

  “You employ people?”

  “We employ a bunch of people. Right now we’re flipping nine houses and have sixteen rental units to maintain and keep occupied.”

  “Dane Wilson, are you trying to impress me?”

  I laugh. “Is it working?”

  “Yes.”

  She’s only standing two feet from me, but I’m itching to have her closer, to touch her. When her eyes shift back to me, I feel the familiar electricity buzz under my skin, but there’s this awkward newness between us that I’m not sure what to do with. I realize we haven’t actually spent that much time together. Can I touch her whenever I want? Hold her hand, put my arm around her, kiss her? The questioning look on her face reminds me how inexperienced she is. Well, that makes two of us. But, hey, I’ve never been one to deny myself. My whole life I’ve gone after what I wanted. And every cell in my body is telling me that I want her.

  Holding out my hand to her, I smile when she takes it. “Come on, I’ll show you the rest.”

  Opposite the office at the front of the house is the Great Room. “This is the main living space,” I tell her. “But we never use it.” I don’t think I have to tell her why, because it’s a pretty massive room. Jason and I would get lost in here.

  She smiles as we pass the well-stocked bar in the corner on our way out at the other end of the room. She keeps her comments to herself though.

  We go under the staircase and into the kitchen at the back of the house. She wanders to the French doors that lead out to the covered porch that runs along the back. The pool is sparkling in the sun further out and she turns a wondrous expression on me. “You have a pool?”

  I nod. “You want to go swimming later?”

  She sighs. “I haven’t been swimming in a hundred years. I don’t even have a bathing suit.” Her voice goes from wistful to happy as she continues. “But maybe Char won’t mind if I borrow one of hers.”

  I arch a brow at her. “Forget it. I’m not peeling another woman’s bathing suit off you. We’ll just add it to the shopping list. Flip-flops and a bikini.” Before she can protest, I place a finger over her lips. “But it’s got to be tiny and black or . . .” I tilt my head, “maybe red. You won’t even get a say in which one we get.”

  Her lips begin to turn up into a smile under my finger, so I lift it. “Well, if it’s for you, then I guess I can’t stop you from buying it.”

  I make a noise of triumph and she rolls her eyes.

  She slips her hand back into mine. “Are you going to show me the rest?”

  A lot of the rooms on the main floor are empty. “You don’t like decorating?” she asks with a laugh.

  “Not in the least. All the furniture we do have was picked by Jason’s mom and sister.”

  We go up the curving staircase, and at the top I tell her, “This is the rec room, where we spend most of our time.” Looking the room over, I bet she thinks we’re just big kids. We made the left side into a living room with a large couch and a couple of recliners arranged in front of an enormous TV. And the other side has a pool table, as well as three full-size arcade video game machines. She doesn’t comment, just keeps her smile to herself.

  Heading down the hall, we pass a bathroom and a couple of spare bedrooms, one of which has two treadmills set up in front of another TV. When we get to my room at the end of the hall, she takes in the fireplace with its sitting area off to our left, and the en-suite and closet doors to the right, and then swings her attention back to the bed that’s across from us.

  “It’s so clean,” she proclaims. “And that is a huge bed.”

  I give her my best seductive smile. “Plenty of room for the both of us.”

  “Who says I’m going to sleep with you?”

  “Ha. I’ve had my coffee. You can’t fool me with your cruel comments anymore.”

  She scrunches her nose up, making me laugh.

  “You want to use my shower or the one down the hall?”

  If you’d asked me last Friday morning about the possibilities of some hot guy asking me if I wanted to use his shower, I would have laughed; liquid-shooting-out-of-my-nose laughed. And yet, here I stand with a pair of penetrating brown eyes looking down at me, waiting patiently for my answer.

  “Since you’ll need your shower,” I say slowly, “I guess I’ll take the one down the hall.”

  I’ve been completely ignoring the current that’s been humming between us since we got here. I’m so out of my depth with him. I have no idea what’s expected of me, if anything. My only defense seems to be my sarcasm. Thank goodness that’s never in short supply.

  The smirk on his lips is leaving me embarrassingly breathy. But what girl in her right mind wouldn’t be turned on in this guy’s presence, in his bedroom no less – a bedroom that’s painted in differing shades of masculine gray, and has an enormous bed with a black, buttoned leather headboard – especially after last night? The thought of reliving that has the creeping heat of a blush slowly making its way up my neck from my chest.

  “I’ll get my stuff,” I say, turning on my heel, desperately not wanting him to see me turn red. I make my way down the staircase, back to the foyer to grab my backpack and Walmart bag with my shampoo and lotion.

  On the way back, the warmth of the hardwood floor under my socks has me pausing to turn my face up to the sun coming in the skylights. Closing my eyes, I remember the pleasure on his face as he talked about his house and suddenly I’m smiling. How is it that this beautiful, passionate, intelligent, successful man wants me hanging around? Me, who Charmaine’s friend, Glory, has called boring to my face on a number of occasions? And even after I’d completely lost it in front of him last night?

  The hair on the back of my neck stands up, and I open my eyes to find him with his elbows on the railing, watching me from above.

  He smiles. “You coming, Pretty Girl?”

  God, when he calls me that? It’s like his voice goes straight to my core. No one’s ever made me feel like he does.

  On my way up the stairs, I run my hand along the banister. “You think this would hold me if I slid down it?”

  Laughing, he grips the railing to give it a tug. “I think you’d be safe. Just don’t do it if I’m not around. That’s something I’ve got to see.”

  At the top, he hugs me to his side, kissing my temple. “I put some towels out for you.”

  “Thanks,” I say, ignoring how my heart rate accelerates at his proximity. We’re at the bathroom door and he seems to waver, like he doesn’t want to leave me. I give him a playful shove. “I promise not to steal anything. You can trust me.”

  Smirking, he backs away from me down the hall toward his room.

  I literally have to tear my gaze away before I can slip into the safety of the bathroom. Locking the door, I lean against it and take deep, calming breaths. I have got to get a grip.

  To distract myself, I look around. There’s no tub, but the warm beige tiles of the shower are surrounded by floor-to-ceiling glass walls. On the other side of the room is a long mirror above double sinks. My reflection catches my eye. I look different somehow. My mouth twists with irony. Yeah, I’m different. He gave me not one, but two orgasms yesterday. I now know what all the fuss is about. I giggle as I strip naked and remember his expression as I took my clothes off for him last night. That had been one of the most harrowing experiences of my life; exhilarating and terrifying, all in one. I still can’t believe I did it. But he’d been pleased.

  In the shower, I do a good job with the scrubbing. I’m pretty tender in a certain spot, but that’s to be expected considering the size of what was pushed inside me last night. After I’ve shaved every appropriate surface, I wash and condition my hair, and that’s when I
realize I forgot my hair dryer. How disappointing. I like his hands in my hair, but I can’t leave it down without blow-drying it. Despite being mostly all one length, my hair dries in weird, unruly waves on its own.

  While I’m applying lotion from head to toe, my phone buzzes on the counter.

  I’m in the office. Out for breakfast or try to find something in the kitchen?

  Kitchen. Any more IHOP and you’ll be ditching me for a skinny girl ☺

  His answer comes almost immediately.

  Very unlikely.

  I heave an incredibly melodramatic sigh. Life is good today. I get dressed and then towel-dry my hair. I put it into low-lying pigtails and try to convince them to be sausage curls down the fronts of my shoulders.

  Not wanting to disturb him if he’s working, I head for the kitchen. It’s a beautiful room that’s shared with a large eating area. The rectangular table and eight chairs arranged around it are very sleek and modern looking and sit in front of the French doors. The actual kitchen is on my right and has dark cabinets and contrasting white countertops, and it all looks like it’s never been touched. Opening the fridge, I find it not exactly empty, but not full either. There are eggs, though, and I find some pre-sliced Havarti.

  It feels a bit strange to be texting him when we’re under the same roof, but I’m not going to yell, and if I go see him, I’ll probably turn red again.

  You have eggs and cheese! Want some?

  Sure. Just have to work a tiny bit. BRT.

  Aww. He used my Be Right There. I start digging through his cupboards and finally come out with what I need, only to see his stove and frown. It’s gas. But hey, if I’m smart enough to get into architecture, then I must be able to work a gas stove. Studying it, I finally work up the courage to turn the knob. The burner flares to life, and I do a little victory dance. Putting the pan on the heat, I mix the eggs and then pour them in. When they’re cooked, I take the pan off the burner and lay the cheese on top and put a lid on it.