An unexpected laugh escaped him, the sound rusty even to his own ears. “Give it your best, Laura, but I wouldn’t hold your breath.”
A light eyebrow raised and she held up a gingerbread man. “Eat this.”
“I’m really watching my carbs.”
She snorted and held the cookie out to him and his empty stomach growled. He wanted that fucking cookie more than he wanted to tear down all these ridiculously merry decorations.
With a mock glare, he took the cookie from her, stuffed the warm, spicy confection into his mouth and tried not to sigh in pleasure as it tickled his tongue and warmed his stomach. He’d always had a weakness for sweets, considering it was rarely something he’d been able to have as a kid. Sure, he’d stolen his fair share of candy from the gas station close to their house because they’d had to eat, but a fresh-out-of-the-oven cookie, well, that was something you couldn’t steal.
At her grin, he knew his face was giving away more than he wanted. “It’s okay,” he told her. “For a cookie.”
Laura rolled her eyes and it reminded him of how she’d been when they were kids. A tough girl who made a career of rolling her eyes was now giving him that same attitude as a woman and it was a surefire way to make his dick hard.
“I know you love it,” she said, hands on her hips, making even that silly penguin mitt look bossy.
A corner of his mouth quirked as he stole another cookie from the rack. “I’m hungry.”
That got her full-on smiling and his dick started to pulse, but still he hesitated on pulling the trigger. Had she been another woman he would have already gone in, but he didn’t know how to play this one. Laura wasn’t just another person he slept with and he wasn’t sure about the consequences of that with her.
“If you really don’t like the decorations, I can take them down,” she said, interrupting his salacious thoughts, “but I’m just missing being home for the holidays and I thought this would cheer me up.”
“Well, I would never take away anything that made you happy, Laura.” He meant it to sound sardonic, but it had come out as earnest and he knew it was because he did still care for her. Once upon a time he’d have done anything to make her happy.
“Thank you,” she said. “And this place is amazing, by the way. You really did it, Will. If I haven’t said it before now, I’m really proud of you.”
Something inside his chest grew suspiciously warm, and not just from the gingerbread, as the words echoed in his head.
“You too, Laura,” he got out, his voice gruff. Clearing his throat, he continued so he didn’t look like a complete idiot, “Since you’re busy baking, would you like me to order some food for dinner?”
Laura shook her head. “I already made it. Pot roast is in the slow cooker.”
He nearly fainted. Pot roast was one of his favorites and one of those meals you just didn’t have as a single person who didn’t cook.
“I have a slow cooker?”
“Of course not, I borrowed it from the kitchen.”
He blinked then pulled out a leather chair from the island and sat as she stirred a bowl of bright white icing he assumed was going to be used to decorate the cookies.
“Of course you did,” he said, watching her as she carefully filled a plastic bag with the icing. “Would you like help?”
Laura’s brown eyes met his. “No, because I have way more planned for you tonight and before I’m finished you’re going to be a lover of Christmas.”
He could hardly wait.
CHAPTER FOUR
LAURA DIDN’T LIE; Will would give her that. She did, indeed, love Christmas. And for a moment he almost enjoyed the fact that he got to eat her gingerbread cookies while he watched her zip around the tree she’d bought putting an entire array of decorations on it. He’d poured himself a glass of bourbon and sat down to pass an evening with her.
But as he got deeper into the holiday spirit she was thrusting upon him, he realized he’d let this farce go on long enough. He needed to set some boundaries for what this relationship was and stick to them, not waffle around it like he’d done the night of their dinner. He’d attempted to cut things off between them before they began and now here he was standing in his apartment that could not be described as any other way than aggressively bedecked. He was sending out mixed signals and he didn’t want to lead her on because he didn’t do relationships and cozy nights at home.
“Was this your entire plan for the evening?” he asked.
“Pretty much,” she explained as she hung a red glass ornament for the third time on a different limb. “Most people I know in the city have gone home for the holidays.”
“Mmm-hmm,” he said, knowing he should help her decorate, but not ready to succumb to the chummy mood she was intent on creating.
Because honestly, he was having a rough time remembering to keep his hands off her despite the wholesomeness of his current state of affairs and his best intentions. Gone was the sexy apron from before in the kitchen and now her fitted forest green sweater was cinched in all the right places to show off a figure that was melting his resolve and good judgment.
“Do you have any plans for Christmas?” she asked, oblivious to his pervy train of thought.
He watched snowflakes fall outside, the white puffs disintegrating into water as they hit the glass of his windows. The roads were covered and probably impassable anywhere outside the city; she’d been smart to not risk the drive into a blizzard. Just like that, his memories tumbled in, of both of them without coats in the snow, running from the bus to their lousy apartment building for just a modicum of heat. He remembered her as a scared twelve-year-old girl who cried when she hadn’t received a Christmas present that year so he’d stolen a couple of candy bars and drawn a picture of her to make life just a little less unbearable. It hadn’t been enough then, though, and he’d tried every day since to make sure he never had to see someone be that sad again.
“I don’t do anything for Christmas,” he finally said, not for the reason that he actually wanted to answer the question since he knew what kind of reaction he’d get, but because the silence had stretched too long and his douchebag routine was wearing thin as the memory of her as a kid came flooding back. Other memories, too, always returned this time of year, which were another reason he didn’t celebrate it. The Christmases he’d spent with his mom before she left him at the group home when things had gotten too hard were always just a wayward thought away, ready to collapse all the hard work he’d done to be a high-functioning human being. “I’m usually working.”
Laura’s shoulders slumped and mountains of pity welled in her eyes, as he’d predicted. “That is the saddest thing I’ve ever heard, Will.”
When she started blinking rapidly he knew he’d really done it. “I can’t say I’ve given it much thought. It’s usually a good day to get work done without any interruptions.”
She’d gotten herself under control, the blinking back of the tears portion of the evening hopefully behind them. However, she was still staring at him like he was a lost puppy off the street. He’d be damned if anyone had ever looked at him that way. In his adult life, people had either been afraid of him, respectful of him, stayed clear of him, but never had anyone looked at him and what he’d built and supposed that he was anything other than the self-assured grouchy billionaire he presented to the world.
“I wish we’d found each other sooner.”
So did he.
But then he actually had thought about finding her over the years. It would have been easy enough for a person like him who had virtually unlimited resources, but he hadn’t. The thought of her had been too painful and after a while, he’d mostly just wanted to forget the past and move on with his business, a project he’d eschewed nearly all his scant personal relationships to build. And he’d succeeded, so he supposed it had all been worth it in the end. He’d never hav
e to worry about not being able to afford a coat again, would never worry about being so cold that he lit scraps of paper on fire in a trash can to stay warm. Never fucking again.
“Yeah, well, I’ve been okay on my own, but I appreciate that.”
Their eyes met again and for not the first time they stood between the past and the present, time forgotten and irrelevant as they both tried to sort out what exactly they were to each other now. For his own part, he was fine to be friends, but the more she moved, talked and laughed, and honestly, just breathed, the more he remembered how much he’d wanted her as a teenager too.
So yeah, it was time to end this little cozy evening.
“Would you like to go with me to a party for a magazine tonight? I need to speak to some people who can get some movement on city permits so I can start building WW East.”
Laura eyed him and his unexpected audible on this evening’s plans speculatively before asking, “So fancy dress?”
“Yeah, you have something?”
“I have dresses, but they’re in my apartment.”
As they watched the snow fall down outside, the balcony already covered with inches of it, the problem was clear.
“We’re not The Plaza, but I’ve got designer boutiques downstairs,” he said, pulling out his wallet and handing her a credit card. “It’s on me.”
Laura stared at it, her eyebrows crashing together. “I don’t want your money, Will.”
Without another word, he put the wallet back into his pocket. “Can you be ready in an hour?”
“Of course,” she said, already on her way to the elevator to buy her own dress at his stores.
But she was ready within the hour and they made it to the restaurant, the few blocks to the event taking nearly a half hour to traverse in the snow. Will hated every fucking minute of it, but his mission of getting out of his apartment had been accomplished even if it just meant that they were stuck in an overheated room with a bunch of rich blowhards.
Nursing his second whiskey, he asked Laura when she came back to his side, “Was James Hess flirting with you?”
She paused, her holiday cocktail halfway to her mouth. He thought it was a peppermint martini, but somehow it annoyed him how into Christmas she was. To him, it seemed like a constant celebration of their separation.
“What?” she asked, taken aback by the invasive question.
“The guy you were talking to earlier, James Hess, he’s a real estate developer.”
“Oh, so he’s the jerk responsible for turning New York City into a chain store paradise?”
Will snorted at the familiar refrain. “Everybody hates progress.”
Laura rolled her eyes.
“Just be careful with him, okay?” Will warned. “He’s a major player and there have been whispers about his predilections.”
“You think I can’t defend myself if I wanted to?” she asked him with a raised eyebrow. “Even though I learned how to fight from one of the best teachers?”
He caught her eyes. “I was a dumb kid.”
“You might have been a kid but you were never dumb, and a knee to the balls is a skill I’ve used a couple of times over the years.”
A bolt of fury swept through him at the thought of her being in danger. He’d never forget her face that night her foster dad nearly hit her. Never. That she’d been in that same kind of position again left him feeling just as enraged as he’d felt then.
She must have read something on his face because she began to backtrack. “Nothing like that. Nothing ever was as awful as him—I promise,” she assured, which aided in returning his blood pressure to a somewhat normal rate.
“Good.”
She plucked out a bacon-wrapped shrimp from a passing tray and plopped it into her mouth as he watched mesmerized while she chewed, like some hopeless schoolboy.
“I hope you’re not planning on charging me for coming to this event, are you?” he asked as she grabbed a mini quiche from another passing tray. She was obviously nervous around him and he was truly enjoying it. “Your services are not exactly cheap.”
Still chewing, Laura rolled her eyes. “And here I thought you were enjoying yourself and getting into the Christmas spirit. I mean, we’re at a lovely Christmas party and you’re just over there thinking your old friend is angling for more money. Frankly, I’m shocked and insulted.”
He laughed and dug in, liked teasing her again. “Can you blame me? I ran through your itemized bill the other day and I had no idea you could, one, buy glitter in bulk, and two, that it cost so damned much.”
She swatted him playfully in the arm, a completely innocuous move but one he felt in his gut. This was what he’d missed for so long, the familiarity, the easiness of being with someone who knew him.
She cleared her throat, obviously seeing something of his thoughts in his eyes. “Glitter is a holiday essential. You can’t put a price on it, Will.”
“You certainly did,” he snorted. “Over ten thousand dollars, in fact.”
She stuffed another canapé in her mouth, a caviar-topped blini this time eaten without regard to the luxury. Yeah, he was getting to her just like he had at the first dinner before she’d mentioned leaving and he’d shut things down. At some point, he’d need to deal with that, but for right now, the present was far more appealing, her painted coral lips closing delicately over the little pancake, her pink tongue darting out to catch a bit of sour cream from her lips.s
“Ten thousand dollars is dirt cheap for magic.” She shrugged. “You’re welcome.”
He bit the inside of his lip to keep from smiling and shook his head. “Well, I apologize that my gratitude was previously unforthcoming. Thank you, Laura,” he said, wanting to keep her off-balance. “For the magic.”
He watched as she tried to figure out if he was being serious or not, if she understood how much he’d wanted to give her magic back then, when a group of people parted the crowd, pressing her into him until they were nearly chest to chest.
When she realized just how close they were, her eyes slowly combed up his body and he felt her gaze in every cell. Her breasts were a hairbreadth away from his chest and he knew he should step back, that just standing here like an idiot was on the verge of creepy, but he was glued to the spot and she wasn’t moving either.
Their eyes finally met and he didn’t miss the dark desire in her brown depths, the lids hooding as her rosy tongue flicked out to lick her lips. It wasn’t a calculated move, just reflex because what was simmering between them was undeniable.
So he took a step back, not leaning into the moment because it was too soon. There’d be a time when it wasn’t too soon. He hadn’t decided what the future would be, but if they were going to go to bed together he wanted her to be so pent up with lust that there was no mistake that they wanted each other and they weren’t just conveniently hooking up because they were essentially snowed in together and stuck.
“Sorry,” he said, his voice gruffer than he’d meant, but her light citrus scent was still in his nose. “I didn’t know you were so close.”
Her knowing look called him a liar, but she didn’t push it. Instead, she straightened her dress, stretching the fabric more tightly over a pair of perfect breasts, perfect for the palm of his hand, perfect because they were hers.
Christ, a couple of cookies, a Christmas tree and a party and he was losing his goddamn mind.
* * *
Laura was on the brink of flipping out. Bake cookies, she’d thought, that’ll be a nice, innocuous activity to do with an old friend as the world shut down around them.
Instead, the look on his face when he’d eaten those gingerbread men had her clothing almost literally in flames. They might as well be ash on the floor because his eyes darkening in pleasure, so obviously against his will, was off-the-charts hot. And his eyes as he watched her under thick lashes when sh
e’d come out of her room in the long glittery silver gown that hugged every curve she had, the heat, the intent in them. She felt it everywhere.
Now there was no mistaking what he wanted and she looked at him the same way. All evening she couldn’t get enough of watching him, the long, defined muscles of his arms, the black suit jacket tightening against his hard abs as he moved.
And that moment when their lips had been so close, so extremely close and yet so far away.
She almost wished he’d done it, just kissed her right then so they could get it over with because the anticipation was killing her. She’d essentially been waiting over fifteen years to kiss him; it was an expert study in masochism.
“Food is good,” she blurted, finally able to get words out as he moved away from her, taking them to a slightly empty corner. The reality, though, was that there was no privacy whatsoever in the small event room where the party was held. That was the thing about New York City; nothing was especially spacious.
“I haven’t noticed. I was saving room for what you cooked,” he said, and in a way that broke her heart, the same way he’d looked when he’d tasted her cookies. She hated that Will had been on his own for so long, hated that she hadn’t been able to be there with him. But she’d make up for it now because there was no way he was getting out of her life at this point. Mister Didn’t-Need-Friends was her friend whether he liked it or not. Physical relationship or not, they were friends.
“Don’t you find your penthouse a little impersonal?” she asked, ready to leave the party since he’d already greased the wheels he’d needed to grease. “Why don’t you have a regular home somewhere? It’s not like you can’t afford one.”
She thought of her own meticulously curated brownstone that Maisey’s family was currently enjoying and bit back a sigh.
Will shrugged. “I don’t need much to be happy and finding an apartment takes too much time. Even if I delegate responsibility I’ll still have to waste time going to look at places. And besides, I like the penthouse. All my meals and the housekeeping are free. That’s a lot of smart savings.”
Sinfully Yours Page 4
