[Ryan]

I wake to an interesting smell. Is something burning? I jump out of bed, grab my glasses, and walk out of the bedroom. Hazy smoke floats in the air, thick, burning my eyes. I wave at it to cut a path to the kitchen.

“Oh, shit.” Emma dumps a pan of flat black somethings onto a plate to join several other equally black somethings. She spots me and smiles. “Good morning.”

God, I love her smile. I slow and take in the sight. She’s wearing my shirt and nothing else. I can’t stop myself from smiling back, a little lost in her. More than a little lost. When I come to my senses, I stare at the dead meat on the plate and lift one up. “What is this?”

“Bacon.”

I drop it back to the plate and it shatters on impact. “Dead bacon,” I correct.

“I still have a few more slices to practice with.” She lays them in the pan and flames shoot up. “Jesus Christ with a flying frying pan.”

I rush over and turn the burner off high. I then face her and can’t help but laugh, both at her saying and how beautiful she looks with her eyes as wide as saucers. That splash of color in her cheeks really draws out the green hues in her eyes. “Are you trying to burn the place down?”

“What? My mom taught me to cook the shit out of meat. Literally. That’s what I’m doing.”

“How’s your mom’s cooking?” I eye the black bacon.

She drops the spatula onto the counter. “Good point. Sorry about the mess. I was just trying something new.”

“What? Cooking?”

That comment earns me a heated glare. “No, smartass. Being nice. It’s not something I’m used to being.”

“I think you’re nice.”

“You also sleep in PJs.”

“I didn’t last night.”

“For what you needed, they would have just gotten in the way. If you were any stiffer I could have used you as a pogo stick.” She laughs that low, husky laugh that rolls across my skin, causing it to hum. “Here’s the next lesson. You do not wear clothes to bed when you bring a girl home.”

“Why not?”

“Gives off mixed signals,” she answers without hesitation and pushes the bacon around in the pan. “You bring a girl home from a bar for one reason and one reason only.” Turning, she rests her butt against the counter. “Hookup sex.”

That’s the only reason? That sounds so lonely. “What ever happened to talking? Getting to know the other person? You know, actually become friends before going all the way.”

“Going all the way?” She snorts and resumes her duty of pushing the bacon around in the pan. “No wonder you’re still a virgin.”

My ears heat as humiliation dampers my mood. Yes, I’m a twenty-three-year-old virgin. She doesn’t have to keep pointing that out. As if I don’t feel like a big enough loser. I study the floor until I have enough control to look at her without feeling like a pathetic joke. It’s obvious she pities me. To her, I’m just a project, a zero she’s grooming into a hero.

But she’s here and, at the moment, attempting to cook me breakfast. That has nothing to do with the deal we made. I push my insecurities aside and enjoy the moment. And the view. She’s got incredible legs poking out from under my shirt. I lick my lips.

She uses the top of a sexy barefoot to scratch the back of her calf. “Did you know the corner store is open all night?”

Yes, I did know that, having had to grab snacks at midnight when I’m in the middle of an online video game battle. I wonder if my little test at four in the morning woke her. “When did you go shopping?”

“This morning after someone coming back to bed woke me up. I couldn’t get back to sleep, so I waited until you fell asleep and got up.”

“Sorry.” Until I know what, exactly, TREX is and why I have some woman stalking me, I swallow any other explanation.

Emma glances over her shoulder. “That’s it?”

“I’m really sorry?” I don’t know what else to say.

“You got up in the middle of the night to use your computer. That’s weird, even for you. You know that, right?” Before I can ask how she knows that, she continues. “You left it on the counter. It wasn’t there last night or I would have spilled beer all over it. What could have possibly been so important it couldn’t wait until morning?”

“I couldn’t sleep, so I played a few games.” All in all, it’s not a lie.

“Word of advice? If you can’t sleep and you have someone in bed with you, do her, not a computer game.”

“I, uh, didn’t know that was an option.” I swallow hard and force myself to take a breath. Now all I can think about is what could have happened if I would have followed her instructions instead of Bailey McKoy’s.

“If she’s in your bed, it’s always an option. Remember that the next time you can’t sleep.” She gives me a wink and I forget how to breathe all together.

I don’t know how to respond, so I change the subject by grabbing the bagels off the top of the fridge. “How about breakfast sandwiches?”

“Those bagels look bad.”

I look at them. “They look fine to me.”

“They’re brown.”

“They’re wheat,” I counter and chuckle. When she blinks at me like I’ve just talked in another language, I go on. “I don’t do white carbs. That includes bagels.”

“So, like no white…” She’s clearly struggling with the concept.

“Rice. Flour. Potatoes. The norm.” How does she not know about empty carbs? I thought every girl counted every carb. Discovering one who doesn’t is both intriguing and confusing. Here I thought I knew what women wanted. As soon as I think that, I dismiss the idea. If I did, I wouldn’t be single. And a virgin. And willing to let a virtual—yet sexy—stranger teach me how to be a player.

She laughs. “If you say so.”

I hold up the bag of bagels. “Are you in?”

“I don’t do eggs.”

I slow and look at her. “I have eggs?”

“You do now.”

My phone buzzes on the counter. Not again. I’m not in the mood to deal with my stalker and her cryptic tests. Why call me at four in the morning to play a game of tic-tac-toe?

I check the screen and roll my eyes as I recognize the number. I need coffee before dealing with my dad and ignore the call. That’s the second time he’s called this week. I must have done something else unknowingly to disappoint him. Either that, or he’s the one who sent TREX after me and is following up on the job. I’m not talking to him either way.

Pushing the phone aside, I return my attention to Emma as I work the tie on the bagel bag. “Why don’t you do eggs? I mean, why buy them if you don’t eat them?”

“I love eating them. I just can’t cook them.” She bounces her gaze from me to the phone and back. It’s buzzing again. “Aren’t you going to answer that?”

“Nope.” I hit the side button to send the caller to voicemail without looking at the screen. No one is more important than the half-naked, crazy redhead in my kitchen. She deserves all my attention. That’s what I’ll give her.

“What if it’s important?”

“They’ll leave a message.” I return to my task of releasing the bagels from the bag. “I want to spend as much time as possible with you while I can.”

“See if you’re still singing that tune a month from now.” She flips the bacon too soon and frowns. She then cranks the burner, glances at me shaking my head, and turns it down to medium. It’s still too hot and will burn the bacon. Having grown up spending more time with nannies than parents, I had time on my hands to pick up a few things. One of the nannies liked to cook. I paid attention. “You’ll be begging for the DASH just to dump my ass.”

“Doubtful.” Highly doubtful. “I happen to love that ass.”

“That was a total tool thing to say.” She smiles wide. “I’m proud of you.”

“I’ve got a great teacher.” The damn wire tie on this bag is a pain in the ass. I’m ready to tear the bag open with my teeth to get at the bagels. “Back to eggs. Why don’t you do them?”

“They intimidate me.”

I finally break into the bag. “They what?”

“They intimidate me,” she repeats. “No single food item should have so many different ways it can be cooked. It’s just wrong. I like bacon. You just cook it.”

“Or kill it,” I mutter as I split a bagel and drop it into the toaster.

“Comments like that will not get me to cook you any more meals.”

“My luck is improving.”

She slaps me with the spatula and I jump out of her swinging range before she strikes again. “Ouch. Boyfriend abuse.”

“Fake boyfriend. And you deserved it.” She wipes off her utensil of assault and flips the bacon too late. It’s black. “Shit.” She dumps the bacon on top of the pile of charcoal that used to be bacon, grease and all. The little black chards are floating in their own lard coagulating around the edges of the plate. I shudder at the sight. No bacon for me this morning. Or maybe ever again.

I’m so fixated on watching her I forget about the bagel in the toaster until I smell something burning. “Shit,” I repeat and force the toaster to pop up the halves. They’re just as black as the bacon. Apparently I didn’t pay enough attention to the cooking nanny.

Emma laughs her throaty, husky laugh that already has my cells humming with nervous energy. “If we’re forced to cook for each other to survive, we are both screwed.” She grabs the plate of bacon and dumps the contents in the trash.

I do the same with the charred bagel halves. At least she made coffee without burning it. After helping myself to a cup, I lean on the counter, trying not to let the sight of those bare legs boil in my blood and tighten my pulse. She’s so beautiful standing there in my shirt resting right below her curvy ass. I want to sneak up behind her, rip that shirt up over her head, and have her give me another lesson.

Fake. I have to keep reminding myself of that. This isn’t real. She isn’t really my girlfriend, attempting to cook me breakfast after staying the night. She’s my groomer. My pretty tutor. Talk about being hot for teacher. My dick twitches.

“How about I whip up some eggs?” I ask.

“You’re a brave, brave man to take on eggs.” She moves out of the kitchen toward the bedroom. “Do you mind if I take a shower? It’ll be nice to take one alone for a change. The dorms are wide open. There’re definitely no secrets on my floor.”

“I guess joining you is out of the question, then.” I blurt it out before I realize it. I’m shocked at how easily I say it. I’m shocked at how easily I do anything with her. I should be on the verge of throwing up from nerves. Yet, with Emma, I’ve never felt so comfortable as I do right now, like we’ve been waking up next to each other and cooking together for years. I don’t know what to think of that.

She turns and backs down the hall, a sultry come-and-get-me grin curling her lips. “What about having breakfast?”

“I’d rather have you.”

“Very smooth, Ryan. You sounded so cool and casual. I think you may have actually caught me off-guard.”

I grin as I fight to keep my nerves in check and my hard-on from showing. In flannel PJ bottoms, it’s impossible. I’ve never taken a shower with a woman before, but I’ve heard the guys talk about it. They make it sound like it’s the sexiest thing ever. I want to be the judge of that. Then again, anything with Emma is going to be sexy. “In a good way?”

“Why don’t you come and find out?”