by Diana Nixon
Now everything was different. I still couldn’t believe I made the best deal in my life.
I ran my palm across the fogged-up mirror and winked at my happy reflection.
New home, new life.
With a towel wrapped around me, I went back to my bedroom, dreaming about a big cup of coffee that I would drink in the back yard.
Just then, I saw something glisten under my bed. Instinctively, I reached for my earrings and found one was missing.
Ugh…
I walked to the bed and dropped to my knees to get to it.
My hand was half-way to the missing thing, when I heard the door behind me opened and someone walked in…
***
Cole
Now that’s a spectacular ass, was the first thought that crossed my mind at the view that opened in front of me once I walked into my bedroom. In my thirty-two years I had seen a lot, a lot of naked women included, but this kind of ‘good-morning’ would definitely win the prize.
A cute stranger, who had been on all four just a second ago, now stood still, terrified; her hands kept a tight hold on a small towel wrapped around her slim body.
“Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my bedroom?”
“Your bedroom?” The bag that I’d been holding in my hand, dropped to the floor. I put my hands on my sides and stared at the girl in confusion. Whoever she was, I sure as hell never invited her to my house, not to mention to my bedroom that was off limits for everyone but myself.
“You heard me,” she snapped. Her eyes searched the room, as if she was looking for something heavy to hit me in case I dared to take a step closer to her.
“All right…” I said, with my eyes carefully studying my unexpected guest. “What makes you call this bedroom yours?” Not that I didn’t like the view. The girl was definitely a yummy dessert; not too curvy, but enough to make me want to have a closer look at what she was hiding under that small towel of hers. It left so little for my imagination, and considering it was way too short to cover her ass when she was on all four, I had seen a lot more than she would ever willingly show me. Her long, wet hair was blond, I guess. It was hard to tell. She had big green eyes and full lips that looked too damn kissable. She was of a medium height, probably within my depth, and perfect in all those places I could see now.
“Well, I rented this place just yesterday.” She took a few steps back and gave me another terrified look.
“Relax, sweetie, I’m not a maniac. I own this place. Okay?”
“You w-what?”
“I’m the owner of this house,” I repeated, holding my hands in a surrender gesture. I didn’t want to scare her even more, no matter how cute this little kitten looked when holed up. “My name’s Cole Griffin. And if you are telling the truth and you really rented this house, my name should sound familiar.”
“Oh, God… Aren’t you supposed to be in Los Angeles now?”
“May I have a look at your rental agreement?” If memory served, I never gave anyone a permission to rent my house.
The girl hesitated.
“You don’t have it?”
Her cheeks flushed, as if I just accused her of something illegal. “I do have it. It’s downstairs, and I’ll show it to you. But I’d like to get dressed first.”
“Oh…” I smiled leisurely. “I have no problem with you walking around my house dressed up like this.” I pointed to her towel. “Besides, I doubt I can stop thinking about what I’ve already seen… Great ass, by the way.”
Her mortification seemed to hit the roof. It amused me.
“Turn around,” she commanded.
“Not gonna happen. What if you try to run away?”
“Run away? You mean like jump from the balcony? Because it’s the only other way out of this room apart from the one you are blocking.”
My smile grew wider. “Looks like you are trapped, sweetie.”
Now she looked pissed. Which was even funnier than to watch her pitiful attempts to hide herself in that ridiculously small towel.
“Do you still want to see the documents or not?”
“I wanna see everything that you want to show me.” I winked at her. “We don’t need to go anywhere if you prefer to stay in this bedroom and just show it.”
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment, probably fighting for every ounce of composure to not send me to hell or even further.
“You can call my real estate agent and ask for the details. His name is Michael White, and his phone number is…”
“Michael White?”
“Yes. He said he talked to you last night about the rental price.”
Oh, now I knew where the roots of this comedy were growing.
I took my phone out of my jeans pocket and dialed my best friend’s number.
“Hold on a second, sweetie. I think I know what’s going on.”
“Stop calling me sweetie,” she snapped back.
I smiled for what felt like a hundredth time this morning and waited for Michael to pick up the phone.
“Hello?”
“Well, hello to you too, my dear friend. Care to explain what’s going on in my house?”
“What do you mean?”
“I just walked into my bedroom and found your surprise waiting for me. You forgot to wrap a red ribbon around her.” At the mention of the ribbon, my stranger’s cheeks turned crimson. I pursed my lips to not burst into laughing.
“Wait, Cole. I still don’t get it… What surprise are you talking about?”
“The one that you left in my house in New York.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line.
“Shit. I didn’t expect you to be back so soon. I’ll call Harlee right away and try to find her a different place to live.”
“No worries, I’m enjoying the view.” I intentionally gave Harlee a slow, head-to-toe look, letting my eyes linger on every curve that deserved precise exploration. By the way, I liked her name, it suited her.
“I’m sorry, man. I didn’t want to give you any trouble.”
“Forget it. I’ll take care of it.”
“Are you sure? How long are you going to stay in the city?”
“A couple of days. So, there’s nothing to worry about. I’ll call you later, okay?” I ended the call and looked at Harlee, who looked a little pale now, as if she were about to faint or something. I decided to give her a break before she had a panic attack. “Do you have coffee in the kitchen?”
She nodded. “I… think I do.”
“Food in the fridge?”
She nodded one more time.
“Good. Then why don’t we have breakfast and discuss the details of your staying in my house?”
“I thought I did it yesterday, with Mr. White.”
“This…situation is not his fault, neither is it yours. I didn’t tell Michael about my arrival, so it looks like I owe you an apology for breaking into your bedroom this early in the morning.”
She let out a long breath, visibly relaxing. “Apology accepted. Can I get dressed now?”
I smirked. “Sure.” I took my bag and added. “Since you are stuck with me for the next couple of days, and this bedroom technically still belongs to me, would you consider the idea of letting me stay here and share it with you?”
I was sure she would say something like Get the fuck out!
Instead, she smiled widely and walked to the wardrobe, saying on the way, “I’ll think about it.”
Now that was a nice turn in the story.
I knew she was probably screwing with me, so I left the room, giving her the privacy that she needed, dropped my bag in the nearest guest room and went to the kitchen to make breakfast. I was starving and I really needed caffeine to make my brain work properly again. I hated flying between Los Angeles and New York, but sometimes work demanded it and I had no choice but to ‘enjoy’ my time aboard and then the jet lag.
To my surprise, the fridge was full. And not just with diet yogu
rts and low-cal shit. There was cheese, fruits, three packs of juice of different flavors; chicken fillet, sliced bacon, eggs, milk and a small chocolate cake that made me smile. Harlee didn’t look like a girl who watched her weight, but she definitely had a sweet tooth, and so did I.
I already like her.
“Suit yourself,” I heard Harlee say behind me.
I turned around and sighed, as if totally disappointed. “I liked the towel more.”
She was now wearing a pair of black leggings that outlined her legs and an oversized white shirt that slipped off one shoulder, revealing her beautiful neckline.
“I bet.” She walked to the fridge and stood next to me. “What do you usually have for breakfast?”
“Do you really want to hear it?” I gave her the dirtiest look I was capable of.
She rolled her eyes. “I should have guessed.” Then she reached for the bacon and eggs. “This is all you are getting today.”
“What a shame.”
“You’ll survive.” She took a pan and put it on the stove. “So how long exactly are you going to stay here? And for the record, now that I’m renting this place, you have no right to be here. It’s written in my agreement. But I’ll be good to you and let you stay.”
“How very generous of you.”
She smirked. “Generous is my second name.”
“Really?” I stood behind her and whispered into her ear, “I’d like to hear more about how generous you can be…”
Without looking at me, she responded, “If you care about your pretty face, you better never come that close to me again. Especially from the back. I took jiu-jitsu classes.”
“Does that mean you can pin me down in the blink of an eye? I like girls on top of me.”
She shook her head and turned around grinning. “It means I can give you a black eye even before you see it coming.”
We stood very close to each other, and I got a chance to get a better look at her.
Her eyes looked even bigger and greener, and her lips – even more inviting. She painted them with a barely visible lip gloss and now they looked like berries, rich and sweet.
Damn, I was dying to taste them, bite even.
In a low voice, I said, “So you think I have a pretty face, huh? What else do you like about me?”
“I didn’t say I like your face. Though I’m sure many women do.”
I took a strand of her hair that escaped from her high ponytail and wrapped it around my finger. “Platinum blond. I like it.”
Our eyes met and I swear there was something in her look that screamed devil. “Really?” She asked quietly. “What else do you like about me, Mr. Griffin?”
“Shall I name those parts of you, one by one?”
“I think I know what part you are going to start with. Not that you will ever see it again.”
I chuckled. “I will never forget the way you greeted me this morning, Harlee. It’s kind of hard to forget. Not to mention, I can’t stop fantasizing about standing behind you when you are on your full four.”
She laughed as if she didn’t believe me, though I was dead serious now, and turned back to the stove. “I’ll lock my bedroom tonight in case you decide to make that fantasy come true.”
“Then I’ll keep you awake by the sound of the shower I’ll be taking all night long, thinking about you.”
“You never answered my question. How long exactly is your shower, I mean staying here, gonna last?”
I leaned against the kitchen counter and crossed my arms watching her. “Three, four days, maybe.”
She thought for a moment. “I can handle it.”
“Are you sure? I think you need to know a few things about me first.”
“What are they?” She put the slices of bacon onto the pan and gave me a careful look. “You like walking around the house naked? Or make breakfast with nothing but an apron to cover you?”
I smiled. “Both. As well as sleep naked, swim in the pool naked and…”
“Okay, I got the point. You do everything naked. Except travelling, obviously. Or they would arrest you for showing off your ass in the middle of the airport.”
“Trust me, it would be a great show. Still sure you can handle me?”
Her eyes slipped up and down my body and face. “Absolutely. You are just a man. It’s not like I’ve never seen a naked man before.”
“How old are you, Harlee?”
“Twenty-six. Why?”
“How many naked men exactly have you seen so far?”
“This is none of your business, Mr. Dirty Mind. And this,” she gave me a plate with a few slices of fried bacon and two eggs, “Is your breakfast. Enjoy your meal. I’ll tell Michael to hold it back from my rent.”
***
CHAPTER 3
Harlee
I wasn’t going to spy on the house owner or anything, but my curiosity was about to kill me.
I tiptoed to the balcony door and looked out where I could hear my new roommate talk to someone on the phone. He was pacing the back yard, occasionally running one hand through his chestnut hair. If you looked closer you would see the highlights here and there, caused by living in one of the sunniest cities in the country. His honey eyes looked almost brown when there was no light falling onto them, framed with eyelashes so thick, it was almost illegal for a man to have them. Every girl would die for the eyelashes like his. I lied when I told him I didn’t like his face, well defined lines, distinct cheekbones and a sharp jaw. The man was gorgeous, with every inch of him screaming masculinity.
Or maybe it was my untouched body that screamed need that wouldn’t let me see beyond the beautiful surface of the Cole Griffin.
His light blue shirt clung tightly to his tanned skin; no doubt he spent a lot of time on workouts. He knew he was attractive and used it for his own benefits.
I rarely paid attention to the men like him; I always saw them as a major trouble and a threat to my career, and tried to stay away from them, as far as possible. And judging by how easily Cole Griffin turned our first meeting into a cat and mouse game, he was not an exception to my ‘major trouble’ rule. Not to mention I still couldn’t believe he entered the room at the worst possible moment and will now laugh at me for the rest of his life and tell his friends all the dirty things about me.
In any other situation, I would call my real estate agent and ask him to cancel the deal, but I loved this place too much to leave it so soon.
Three, four days, maybe, Cole said. I can do this.
I took a deep breath and returned to my article in the process. There were a few things to do a research about before I could finish it, so I dived into work, letting my sudden interest for Mr. Griffin linger on the back of my mind.
Two and a half hours later, I knew I was losing it badly. The problem was, just before I got back to work, I saw a folder left by Michael last night, the very one that kept information about the owner of the house, aka Cole Griffin. First, I thought I would read it later. Now I knew I couldn’t focus on anything but digging my teeth into the pages that spoke about him.
Not that I expected to find anything too personal in that folder, but what I actually read there was something so much more than that.
It turned out to be a whole list of things that Mr. Picky liked and disliked, including his daily schedules and things he preferred doing on the weekends; the list of his favorite meals and colors of shirts he preferred wearing for work; his daily menu and the brand of socks he always bought. Did Michael really believe I would need to know all of the above?
Well, whatever his intentions were, the reading was really entertaining.
It was so detailed; I was surprised to not see a single word about Cole’s dating history. Either it was non-existent, which was hardly believable considering the man looked like an Apollo. Or the amount of time he spent working wouldn’t allow him to have it. He was a real workaholic, just like me, and I liked it. No wonder he could afford to build a house like this. He definitely des
erved it, after everything he had done since he was fourteen years old when he got his very first job as a potboy in a café.
Cole Griffin wasn’t a son of wealthy parents, or a nephew of a famous uncle. He was a self-made man.
He started his own business when he was nineteen, and by the age of twenty-seven, he managed to get his first million. Today his empire combined different spheres of business, from trade centers to hotels all over the west coast. One of the magazines called him a business shark and it was understandable.
I turned the page and smiled.
Mr. Griffin had fears. And the fear of spiders was one of them.
He also hated scented candles, but I already knew it from Michael, and loud music.
He liked his wardrobe to be well organized, as well as his bathroom and office, and he hated asymmetrical things. Would wearing different socks kill him?
He was an avid reader of historical books, and he hated watching movies, especially those based on books.
He liked chocolate ice-cream and strawberries. Coffee was one of his daily must haves, as well as…
I turned my head to the balcony, as if scared Cole would see me going through his secrets, and then slowly returned my gaze to the folder in my hands.
…sex at four in the morning. Nightly.
I swallowed and read the line one more time. Because my real estate agent must be out of his mind if he thought I wanted to know that much about the owner of the house I was renting.
Turning the page, I found even more details about Cole’s sexual preferences.
Did I lock the door? Ran at the back of my mind.
Because right now, I felt like a criminal who was seconds away from being caught suffocating his victim to death.
Uh, whatever.
Where did I stop? Oh, right, his foreplay routine.
