Feeling smug as the dog galloped away, she hopped back out of the car and gathered her things, making certain to close the door with a fast food napkin in her hand to protect her skin from the drool.
She got lost on her way to the apartment. She didn’t remember so many little concrete walkways yesterday, but then it was always different when someone else did the navigating. After wandering around on the upper level for a few moments and enduring several suspicious glances, she finally located Mike’s place.
She set down her load and pushed the key into the lock. It wouldn’t budge. She pushed harder and wiggled, feeling it give just a bit. She wiggled again, and finally the lock gave way with a groan.
She stuck the key into her jeans pocket, rabbit’s foot dangling on the outside, and turned the handle. It moved, but the door did not. Now what?
She tried to remember back to yesterday when Mike had let her in. He’d opened the door quickly, but he seemed to have a routine. Wiggle, wiggle, bump. That was it. She wiggled the doorknob twice and whacked it with her hip, stumbling across the threshold when the door flew open. She plummeted into the kitchen table and smacked her shin on one of the chairs. Leaning her forehead against the cool metal of the table, she waited to get her breath back.
After a few moments, she was ready to begin her next task. She turned to grab her bags and screamed. Twice. Mike’s ferret was nuzzling his way inside the paper bag from the clothing store.
She heard a door open down the way and a man’s voice called to her, “Hey, lady. You ever think of going for the record? That was a great scream.”
“Sir?” The word came out as a croak, and she cleared her throat before she tried again. “Sir?” she called louder.
Footsteps thudded down the concrete walkway and a face looked in. It was a young man with bright blue eyes and a slim brown beard falling all the way to his belt buckle. “You need something?”
“You must be Frank.” At his nod, Liv pointed to the ferret, now invisible inside the bag except for the very tip of his tail. “Can you get that thing for me?”
“Who, Rett? Sure. Hey, buddy.” He bent down and scooped the creature out of the bag, cuddling it to his chest. The animal burrowed underneath the man’s scrawny beard. “He’s harmless.”
“That’s what Mike said, too, but he terrifies me.” She scooted around, never taking her eyes off of the ferret, and grabbed the bags to pull them inside. “Doesn’t he have a cage or something?”
“Nope. Doesn’t need one. Mike’s place is ferret-proof.” He ran a hand down his chest, and Liv wasn’t certain if he was petting the ferret or stroking his beard. “I can keep him until Mike gets home if you’d like.”
“Would you?”
“No problem. But if you’re going to hang out with Mike for any length of time, you’re going to have to get used to Rett. Tell Mike to come get the bugger when he gets home.” Frank wandered away, saying, “Okay, Rett. What tricks do you know? We could be on Pet Star and go down in history.”
Liv glanced at her watch. Down to less than three hours before Mike would be home. She still had a couple of trips to and from the car to make and dinner to put in the oven to keep warm.
Then she had to tackle the mess. She looked around her at the disaster area and wished she could just condemn the place and start over. Did he even utilize his weight bench? The thing was draped with clothing and appeared unused. You’d think he must, from how hard his muscles were. Her fingers curled into her palms, remembering how it felt to touch his back, his shoulders. No flab there. She could swear her fingertips still tingled from the memory. The fact that her entire body heated up at the mere thought of her skin touching his was interesting. Annoying. It did not make her happy.
With a sigh, she headed back out the door and gave herself a pep talk. Olivia Leslie Leigh could do anything she set her mind to. With her wedding looming on the horizon, she had to figure out what to do with Geoff. Should she break up his other relationship and take him back, or should she call things off? She felt a little faint just thinking about the embarrassment she would face if she canceled the wedding. She wouldn’t be able to hold her head up for months. And how would it affect business? Many of her clients were also her peers.
All of that aside, she reminded herself she loved the creep. With a nod to herself, she continued her mission.
After getting everything from the car with no further interaction with Spike, she put the groceries away in the most logical places she could find. With that accomplished, she grabbed the cardboard container with the chicken and stuck it in the oven, turning the dial to the lowest temperature, just like Meg had told her to do if she was reheating something or keeping dinner warm.
She felt very normal and domestic doing these chores, and she wondered if she’d ever have to do them for her husband when they were married. She contemplated the idea with a smile.
Liv glides into the kitchen and carefully selects several pieces of fresh produce. She expertly chops and dices a wide selection of vegetables and slips them into a pan with a bit of oil for sautéing. The boneless, skinless chicken breasts wait in a dish of marinade where they’ve soaked for an hour. She pours her beloved husband a glass of his favorite merlot and prepares the chicken for baking.
She hears him call her name when he enters the house. He steps into the kitchen and grabs her around the waist, lifting her and swinging her around. “I got the promotion! I’ll be made partner this month!”
“That’s fantastic, darling.” She kisses him and slips her arms around his waist, lifting her glowing face. She smiles, a secret smile. “I have great news of my own. I’m pregnant.”
When she glances up, she sees Mike’s face cloud over. “Livvy, love of my life, is something burning?”
The scream of the smoke alarm jolted Liv from her daydream. She turned around the room frantically, trying to isolate the cause.
Smoke poured from the oven.
Chapter Five
Mike twisted off the oil filter, glad he was only doing an oil change, something he could do in his sleep. His mind just wasn’t on the job. He couldn’t stop thinking about the woman who was at his home, cooking his meal, cleaning his apartment.
What kind of idiot gave a gift card and a key to his place to some woman he hardly knew? His gut said he could trust her, and she seemed okay, but—geez, he didn’t even know her last name.
That was something he would rectify the minute he got home. Of course, they were both crazy. What kind of stupid woman went home with some guy she didn’t know? He could be some crazed serial rapist for all she knew.
Considering the erotic thoughts he’d been chasing out of his brain for the past twenty-four hours, he figured he was only a few steps and a sharp conscience away from being one anyhow. Ever since she’d dropped by to pick up the key and grocery money, he couldn’t think of anything but the fact she was in his house. Odd visions of her vacuuming in nothing but a black negligee popped in and out of his brain. No wonder he couldn’t concentrate.
He replaced the oil filter and poured oil into the car, then noticed a steady stream of greenish slime traveling down the concrete floor. “Crap!” He peered under the car. This was probably his ten thousandth oil change, and the first time he’d ever forgotten to replace the bolt after he’d drained the old oil.
He had it bad.
“Hey, JT!” he called to his co-worker. “I’m outta here after I finish this. Can you hold the fort for the last hour?” There was no way he was taking on that busted tranny, the state of mind he was in.
“Yes, sir, boss-man.” JT gave Mike a mock salute and grinned. “Even better, I can listen to something besides this twangy garbage once you’re gone, so it makes it all worthwhile.”
“Thanks man, I owe you.”
“Don’t think I’ll forget it, either.” JT cranked the radio dial until it blasted hip hop in Mike’s ears. Man, he hated that stuff. It was amazing he and JT got along at all, considering the vast difference in th
eir personalities and interests.
Mike shook his head and wished for ear plugs as he crawled under the car and replaced the bolt on the oil pan. After that it only took a few minutes to finish up. He whipped off his blue latex gloves and went to the head to change clothes. Though he usually changed at home, today he took off the gray coverall and put on jeans and a T-shirt. He scrubbed his arms and face as best he could in the tiny, grease-covered sink and blotted them dry with a couple paper towels.
When he waved a hand at JT to let him know he was out the door, the man gave a wolf whistle. “You all dressed up for some chickie? Never seen you change here before. She must be hot.”
Mike shrugged off the question and headed out the door. He was almost an hour early and he wondered what Liv was up to, and what she’d be doing when he got home.
Strange to think dinner would be waiting. Even when he was dating Tanya, she’d never had a key to his place—that smacked of more serious intimacy than he was willing to grant any woman—so he’d either taken her out to dinner or eaten at her place after he’d cleaned up at his. They’d never, ever stayed the night at his apartment and he’d made certain to leave in the middle of the night from hers. No clothes left behind, no toothbrush. No commitment. That was the number one rule in his love life.
With any luck his earlier visions were spot-on and Liv liked to clean house in her underwear. He smirked at the thought and envisioned a black lacy bra and thong panty, bought just for a man’s viewing pleasure. He laughed and climbed into his car. No way prissy, uptight Liv would wear black lace, more’s the pity. She was probably a white cotton briefs kinda gal.
He found a spot right out in front of his complex and parallel-parked with a twist of his wrist. He looked out his window to make sure no one lurked beside his car door this time before he opened it up and stepped out, wadded coverall in one hand, mini rose plant in the other.
What had possessed him to stop at the corner store for the blasted plant was beyond him, but he hadn’t been able to stop himself. Flowers seemed too clichéd and had romantic overtones, but a plant was kind of neutral. So what if it had roses on it, it was still a plant and Liv had mentioned last night she didn’t have any plants at home. He was just being nice.
Mike was halfway up the stairs when he heard the smoke alarm go off. He raced up the last few steps just in time to see Liv fling open his apartment door and run outside, coughing in the billow of smoke that followed her.
“Hey, are you okay?” He hurried to her side and grabbed her chin, turning her elfin face left and right. “No burns? Is the place on fire?”
She pulled her face away to cover her mouth for one last, hacking cough. “The fire’s out and I’m okay, but I can’t say the same for dinner.” She burst into tears.
Mike immediately dropped his coveralls and placed the plant on top of the wooden railing behind him so he could pull her into his arms. He rubbed her back while she snuffled into his shirt. She was a tiny thing, her head hitting him in the sternum, and he was surprised. She’d seemed much bigger last night. “It’s okay.”
She shook her head, wiping her damp face on his ribcage, the movement strangely arousing. “No it isn’t. But I didn’t realize you couldn’t put the whole box in the oven. I was just keeping it warm, not cooking it, but it still caught on fire.”
“You’re sure it’s out?” He had visions of flames shooting through the kitchen and into the living room.
“Yes. I pulled open the oven door to check on it and saw the flames. I’d seen the extinguisher under your kitchen sink while I was cleaning and used it to put out the fire. It took me a second to read the directions on how to use it, so the knobs on your oven are melted. I’m afraid your house is worse off now than when I got here.” She tipped her head back and looked at him, chagrin erasing the fear and frustration from her face. It was all he could do to resist the urge to lean down and kiss those incredibly tempting lips.
He held back, though, knowing instinctively Liv wasn’t into casual relationships. Since he wasn’t into commitment, starting anything would be a huge mistake. Besides, he really liked her. She made him laugh, with her strange mix of competence and inept behavior.
By now, the open door had cleared out most of the smoke and the alarm had stopped shrieking. Mike kept one arm around Liv’s shoulders, grabbed the plant and gave his coveralls a hard kick through the door. “Come on, let’s go see the damage.” He paused on the threshold. “Hey, where’s Rett? He hates that alarm. Did he run out the door?”
“He’s not here.”
“What?” He grabbed her upper arm tightly, not realizing it was a painful grip until she winced. He loosened it and gave her a little shake. “Where is he? What did you do with him?” She wouldn’t have hurt his pet, would she?
“Frank is baby-sitting him for me. He scares me.”
“Frank scares you?”
“No, Rett.”
Mike heaved a sigh and shoved the plant at her. “This is for you, so you have something to go home to.”
Liv gave the roses a quick sniff before smiling up at him. “Thanks, but are you kicking me out already?”
“What? No.” He shut the door and crossed to the kitchen area. “I sure hope you bought some snacks, or we’re going to be awful hungry tonight.” He stood in front of the oven and starting humming a funeral dirge until Liv poked him in the side with her elbow.
“Knock it off.”
“This thing is a goner.” Mike wiped off a bit of foam from the oven with one finger. “Good thing I never use it, but I bet the landlord’s going to be pretty bent out of shape.”
“I’ll pay for it.”
“With what? Your good looks?”
“No, I—” She broke off suddenly and looked at her feet. Mike wondered if she was ashamed of being poor. “I’ll figure out a way.”
“Don’t worry about it. Accidents happen. Maybe renter’s insurance will cover this kind of thing. Guess I’ll find out.” He looked inside the black maw of the oven. “So what was for dinner?”
“Roasted chicken.” Her shoulders sagged and she flopped into a nearby chair. “I can’t believe I set your oven on fire. Meg said to—” She stopped talking again and looked down, and Mike wondered what she was hiding. He wished she’d just spit it out. “I’ll figure out something else.”
“Did you buy everything on my list?” Mike pulled open the refrigerator door and took out a bottle of beer, twisting off the cap and tossing it into the sink.
“Yes. At least I did something right.” She looked so defeated, Mike determined to cheer her up.
“Then we’re all set. How about I make a sub sandwich for our meal, and a bowl of chips?”
“Fine, but I’ll make them.” At his protest she put a hand on his forearm, sending little shocks of awareness through to his groin. “Please.”
At that point, Mike would have granted her anything. Instead, he walked toward the front door. “I’ll go get Rett.”
“Must you?” She wrinkled up her nose in disgust.
“Liv, he really is cute. You should try to get to know him.”
“Daddy always said pets are dirty and loud, so I’ve never been around animals.”
Daddy again. “That’s different than hating them.” He paused with the front door open and turned back to announce, “I’ll teach you.”
The last thing he saw before closing the front door was Liv’s lips turning up in a slow smile. No monetary reward could be greater.
*
Liv took the time that Mike was gone fetching Rett to settle her nerves. Not only had she not cooked a decent dinner, never mind nearly burning the place down, she hadn’t been able to go next door and check things out.
She looked around the living area and acknowledged she also hadn’t been able to do any cleaning in here. She dropped her head in her hands and wondered how women like Meg managed. Meg had half a dozen kids and a blue-collar husband and still seemed to manage capably.
Liv had everyth
ing she could need in life, only one human to feed, and she still couldn’t warm a lousy chicken, let alone clean a tiny studio apartment.
Worse, on top of everything else, she’d broken two fingernails trying to work the fire extinguisher.
When tears began to flow, Liv berated herself. She ran one of the most lucrative and exclusive day spas in Massachusetts. Why should she be upset she couldn’t cook a chicken? She could hire people for that.
But in the meantime, she still needed to figure out how to build a sub sandwich. She stood and wiped her eyes on the back of one arm, noticing black smears from her face as she did. Oh no! Did she have soot on her face from the smoke, or was it her mascara?
She hurried into the bathroom and looked at her image. Her hair stood on end in about fifty different directions, her face was gray with soot, except for the clean streak across her eyes. She had no lipstick or mascara left to speak of. She was a mess. Good thing she wasn’t interested in impressing Mike.
Still, she’d been raised to put her best foot forward, so she dampened a washcloth and wiped off the gray mask, horrifying herself by using hand cream to moisturize with afterward. She had nothing else to use but promised her skin to treat it to a mask later on. A dab of lip gloss and a touch of blusher and she called it done.
When she stepped back out into the living area, Mike had returned and was busy in the kitchen, his labor adding to her abundant guilt. He was being so nice to her, and she was using him, lying to him. She shook her head and gave herself a little pep talk. All this dishonesty was for a good reason. Right?
Rett sat on his haunches beside Mike, looking like he was waiting for a handout. Liv suppressed a shudder at the sight of the creature and took a few steps forward.
“I was going to do that.” She stood beside Mike, on the opposite side of where Rett sat. She knew Mike was frustrated at her antipathy toward the creature and, to be honest, she knew she needed to get over it if she planned on spending any time here unescorted.
“No problem. Anything you don’t like? You can be honest this time.” Mike stopped her automatic head shake with his words.
One Love for Liv Page 5
