by Robin Kaye
* * *
“Hungry?” Simon scrubbed the towel over his body and watched Fitz pull the scrunchie out of her hair she’d piled on top of her head before he tugged her into the shower a few minutes ago.
“Starving.” She held the bath sheet around her and stared at him through the foggy mirror.
He wrapped his arms around her waist, making sure to dislodge the corner of the towel she’d tucked between her breasts to hold it up. “Babe, if you keep looking at me like that, we’re never going to make it out of this loft.” He kissed her shoulder and grazed her earlobe with his teeth. “Brunch it is.” He gave her a love-tap on her bottom. “You’d better go and find another one of my shirts to wear while I shave. You’re too much of a distraction, I’ll end up slitting my own throat.”
He watched her slip out of the bathroom and still ended up cutting his chin rushing to get back to her. He found her dressed in another one of his shirts, blue pinstripe, sitting on his bed, and fingering the shirt he’d all but ripped off her earlier. “I think it’s way beyond saving.”
She seemed surprised to see him. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not. Once we go through my button-down shirts, we can start on my T-shirts.” He tugged the mangled piece of fabric out of her grasp, and got dressed before one of them changed their minds. He put on his watch, grabbed his cell phone and wallet, and then pulled her off the bed. “We’d better go before I get any other ideas.” And he was having definite ideas—but even he needed to eat.
“Oh, okay. If you still want to. If not, I could just grab the ferry back to the city.”
“I thought I talked you into spending the day with me. Have you changed your mind?”
“No, but—”
He cut her off with a kiss. “You’re starving, remember? Come on. The first stop on our tour is Fort Defiance for brunch. You need to keep your energy up.” He took her hand and led her out of the loft, down through his mess of a studio, and out onto the pier.
Something had happened between the time they made love and when he came out of the bathroom. Fitz had taken a giant step back. Maybe she was unsure of how to proceed, which, come to think of it, meant they were in the same boat. Still, Simon wasn’t about to let her avoid whatever the hell this thing was between them.
He held her hand on the walk to Fort Defiance and let her stew until they tucked into their meal. He cut a piece of steak and watched her toy with her Dutch pancake and stab a strawberry. “So, tell me about you and Dave.”
“There is no me and Dave. I told you, it was a blind date.”
“Yeah, that’s the thing I don’t get. You’re beautiful, intelligent, funny, and sexy as hell. Why would you need a blind date?” He leaned in close. “And how the hell did you keep your virginity until last night.”
A horrified look crossed her face.
“Hey, I’m not complaining. I’m glad. I just don’t get it.”
Fitz closed her eyes and blushed furiously, either from embarrassment or anger. He hoped it was embarrassment. “I’ve dated some, but it was never right. I’m twenty-four years old. It was well past time to well . . . you know. Anyway, I decided this weekend would be it.”
Simon dropped his fork, his meal forgotten. His mouth had dropped open, so he closed it, clenching his teeth so tight, his jaw ached, and he suddenly felt a little sick.
“This would be the weekend I’d lose my virginity, and Ronna had heard Dave was amazing in bed, so I went out with him.”
“You were going to let that guy—” He couldn’t even say it. He curled the cloth napkin in his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white, wishing he could pound something. Just the thought of Dave and Fitz together had him seeing red.
“No.” Fitz waved her hand as if she were swatting away something as meaningless as a fly. “The second I met him I knew I couldn’t go through with it. I figured this weekend would be an abysmal failure—until I ran into you.”
“So I was your second choice? That’s why you came home with me?” So he meant nothing more to her than a good lay? She’d used him?
“No, I went home with you because I wanted you. No one else. I guess that’s been my problem all along. I’ve never found anyone I wanted to be with. Only you.”
He stared into Fitz’s eyes and saw nothing but honesty. Okay, so she went looking for something—he’d known that the second he laid eyes on her. He just didn’t know what that something was. Still, he was relieved she’d chosen him.
“I understand you’re angry. I just thought that if you knew, you wouldn’t have . . .” She hid her face in her hands. “God, this is so embarrassing.”
“I’m not angry. I’m honored.” He just never wanted to think of her with anyone else but him.
She slid her hands down to cover her mouth, her eyes wide with shock. “Really?”
“Really. So do you have work tomorrow? You mentioned you were doing an internship.”
She took a sip of her coffee and cut off a piece of her pancake. “Yes, I do. I’m also working on my thesis. It’s just about done so I need to meet with my advisor too.”
“Are you free for dinner? There are a few new places I’ve wanted to check out in your neck of the city.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Yeah, it’s my night off. I’m working the rest of the week, but that doesn’t mean you can’t come by the bar.”
“It doesn’t?”
“Fitz, I meant what I said. Last night was just the beginning.”
“Oh.” She stared at her plate as if she’d never seen it before and then looked anywhere but at him.
“Are you having second thoughts?” Or third thoughts . . .
“No. I just . . .” She wiped her mouth with her napkin and set it back on her lap and leaned forward. “I know you, Simon—or at least I did. You’ve always had a never-ending stream of temporary girlfriends. They might last a few weeks, or even a month, and they all seem really happy until you dump them. I’m trying to figure out what this is the beginning of. Your typical one-month fling?”
Shit. His father had always told him his past would come back to bite him in the ass. “No. There’s nothing typical about you and me—us. This is all new territory for me. This thing between us is special. I want to see where it goes.”
“So you’re looking for a relationship? With me?”
Shit, when she put it like that, it didn’t sound quite as exciting as ripping off her clothes on a continual basis, making love every opportunity they got, and spending time together like this, well, minus the uncomfortable conversation and her deer-in-the-headlights look.
He picked up his coffee and took a sip to stall for time and hoped to God his hand didn’t shake. He really did want to get to know her, to go to bed with her at night and wake up with her the next morning. He wanted to find out all the stuff that people found out about each other when they were more than just bed buddies. He set his coffee on the table, took her hand, and leaned in close. “Yes. That’s exactly what I’m looking for. I want a relationship with you.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Elyse’s heart kicked up a conga beat. Simon wanted a relationship with her, which was almost as astounding as the way he looked—sincere and nervous as all get out. She wished she could take a picture and text it to Mel. Not that she was reveling in his discomfort or anything, but Mel had always thought her brother was incapable of being nervous. She called him Super Simon—able to leap tall buildings in a single bound, date any woman he wanted, and break hearts without ever having his touched. And until now, Elyse had believed it too.
“I’m not asking you to marry me, Fitz. I’m just asking you to give us a chance. I’m asking you to be mine.”
Sometimes, like now, he’d look at her as if he really remembered her, as if he knew their history, but then the look would disappear. Once he put all the pieces together and realized who she was, it would be either really good, or really bad. And the way her luck ran, she’d put her money on bad, really, really bad.
Still, she’d come this far, why end it now? If she did, she’d have as much of a broken heart as she would later. The hand that held hers was becoming decidedly damp.
“Does it usually take this much time for you to make a decision? Not that I’m rushing you. I just want to know for future reference.”
She couldn’t keep the smile from her face. “It’s a big decision.”
Simon sat back, locked his knuckles behind his neck, and grinned. “Maybe we should make a list of pros and cons. Pros first. I’m great in bed.”
She couldn’t discount that. “Well, you’re definitely self-assured, but then I don’t know if that’s true. I have no one to compare you to.”
“I clean out the refrigerator and take out the garbage.”
“You left the garbage on the fire escape.”
“Hey, that counts. And you gotta admit, I finally learned how to clean.”
“After years of watching your maid.”
“I rescued you from Dave.”
“You did not.”
“I helped Francis get rid of him. That counts too.”
“Yeah, you held his apron.” She let out a theatrical sigh and clasped her hands together close to her chest. “My hero.”
He gave her his patented sexy smirk, looking way too confident.
She leaned back in her chair mirroring him. “Okay, let’s move onto the cons.”
“Of you saying no or yes?”
“Yes. If I agree to a relationship, you won’t have any shirts left.”
“I can live with that if you can. I have no problem with you walking around my loft naked.”
She couldn’t hide the blush heating her face. Her mind went completely blank.
“Is that all you’ve got? You can’t think of any more cons, can you?”
She couldn’t think at all—not with him looking at her like he was imagining her naked. And definitely not with her body humming beneath his heated gaze. It was all she could do to swallow and not fidget in her chair. She crossed her legs and found herself leaning toward him—drawn to him like a fish that was good and hooked. Dammit.
“It looks like the pros have it.”
She sat there with her mouth hanging open while he went back to eating like it was a done deal.
He took the last bite of his breakfast and pushed his plate away. “Has all this relationship talk ruined your appetite? Or are you just hungry for something else? We can go to Steve’s.”
Her mind got stuck on the whole idea of being hungry for something else. All she could think of was dragging him back to his place.
“Steve’s Authentic Key Lime Pies—they’re awesome. Or if you’re in the mood for something richer—there’s always the Lobster Pound. They have the best lobster rolls anywhere.”
She raised her hand to get the server’s attention. “Check, please.”
Simon raised an eyebrow. “What’s it gonna be?”
“Key lime pie to go, and then you—the combination has definite possibilities. I’ve always had a sweet tooth.”
* * *
After spending the day running all over Red Hook, Simon took Fitz to his favorite food find in his neighborhood—the Ball Fields, where dozens of lunch trucks sold the best Latino food in New York. You could get anything from tacos to huaraches and ceviche. There was always great food and a fun atmosphere but it had never been as much fun as it was today. He stood in line and watched Fitz sweet-talk the usually brusque food vendor into tasting something for the third time. Something clicked, and he knew this wasn’t the first time he’d marveled at Fitz’s habit of taste-testing everything before deciding what to eat. Again he had a vision of his mother’s kitchen before he lost it. He hadn’t really spent time at home since he graduated, and before then, he wasn’t much for bringing friends home. He ran through the list of his old girlfriends, the list of his friends’ girlfriends, and then the list of his girlfriends’ friends trying to place her. He came up with nothing. He shook his head and turned his attention to the people behind them in line, waiting for someone to start an uprising. But everyone else he saw watching her wore the same expression he’d seen on his own face when he wiped off the remains of the key lime pie he’d licked off her stomach hours earlier. Every man was charmed, and the women, whom he expected to get uppity about the attention she garnered, seemed to get a kick out of her.
Fitz finally placed her order, looking over her shoulder at him and laughing at something the big guy in the truck said. She threw her head back, her long hair flying in the breeze, and answered him in fluent Spanish. The guy staring down at her wore a goofy grin, and Simon knew enough Spanish to know he was telling Fitz how beautiful she was, which only earned the poor sap another snort of laughter and a smart retort Simon wasn’t able to follow in Spanish. He might not have known what she said in Spanish, but he knew what she would say in English. Fitz slid beside him, wrapping her arm around his waist, and when she looked at him with laughter in her eyes and a pink tinge to her cheeks, he knew he loved her.
He’d known her less than twenty-four hours—that he could remember—and it hit him like a sledgehammer, stole the breath from his lungs, and set his head spinning.
He remembered his father telling him what falling in love was like, back when they were still speaking. He’d watched his father needle his mother until he drove her to call him a detektiv-kopf—a dickhead in German. Once she did, he’d smile at her, and she’d smile at him, and the two of them would disappear upstairs for at least an hour.
When Simon was sixteen, he finally got up the nerve to ask his dad what the deal was. His father told him the first time Simon’s little bit of a mother called him a detektiv-kopf, he fell head over heels in love with her. And every time she called him a dickhead in German, it reminded him how he felt the moment he fell in love for the last time.
“What’s wrong?”
Simon tried to smile through his shock. “Absolutely nothing.”
“Really? You look like you have a bad case of indigestion.” Fitz looked toward the crowd in line behind them, still waiting to place their orders. “We’d better pay for our food. All these people are staring at us.” She reached into her purse for her wallet, and he stilled her hand.
“I’ve got it. And you’re wrong. They’re not looking at us, they’re looking at you.”
“You’re crazy.”
“Only about you. Go on,” he handed her the food, “get us a table and I’ll buy something to drink.”
She went up onto her toes, her hands full of food, and kissed him. “I’m crazy about you too.” Then she spun around and headed for the picnic area.
Simon stood there like a fool and watched her walk away. He really loved the way she moved. Hell, he loved every damn thing about her. And he still didn’t know how the hell he knew her, but it felt as if he knew her better than anyone else he’d ever known. He was completely fucked.
* * *
Elyse sat at the table and set their plates and plastic utensils down, wondering what she was thinking ordering a huarache. She’d be wearing it as surely as she wore the key lime pie earlier. But this time she’d be fully clothed and Simon wouldn’t be licking the remnants off.
Her phone rang and she didn’t bother to check the caller. “Hello?”
“Elyse, it’s Mel. Whatcha doin’?”
“Getting ready to eat. I’m kind of on a date. I can’t talk. Can I call you tomorrow?”
“Are you with that guy Dave you went out with last night?”
“No, but my date is getting drinks. He’ll be back any minute. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Why not tonight?”
“Mel . . .”
“You did it, didn’t you? You had sex with that guy Dave?”
“No, not Dave. I can’t talk. I’ll call you just as soon as I can. I promise.”
“Was it good?”
“Fantastic. But I really have to go.”
“Man, it seems everyone has a love life except me. Even my brot
her is dating someone.”
“How do you know?”
“He told me when I called him this morning. She was in the shower. Do you believe it? He actually let someone spend the night. I was just calling to tell you the bad news. It seems Simon is really hung up on this woman. He said she’s special. He’s never said anyone was special before—at least not in a good way, and this woman must be good.”
“Who is she?”
“I haven’t a clue. He wouldn’t give up any information except that he’s known her for years. I’ve been wracking my brain all day.”
“Look, I would love to chat about this, but I can’t right now. I’ll call just as soon as I can. Promise.”
Mel let out an agonized sigh. “I can’t believe you finally had sex and I get no information. You’re about as forthcoming as Simon.”
“Must be something in the air. I’ll call you soon. Love you, bye.” Elyse hit the end button and was tempted to bang her head against the table. What the hell was she going to tell Mel? And if she knew Mel, and she did, the woman would be stalking her apartment until she could wring every last bit of information out of her. Man, she was so screwed.
“Something wrong?”
Elyse stashed her phone in her purse and looked into Simon’s concerned eyes. “No, not wrong. Just a pushy friend wanting information.”
“What did you tell her?”
“You’re assuming it’s a her?”
“Am I wrong?”
“No, but I have plenty of male friends.”
“Sure, but they’re probably not pushy. At least not when it comes to getting information. So?”
“I think you’re wrong about the whole pushy thing. You’re being pretty pushy yourself.” It must run in the family. God, she really dug herself into a hole this time.
