Chapter 7
Honey
My bed is so soft, I thought drowsily, rolling over and burying my face in the pillow. Why is it so soft today?
When I heard the masculine grunt to my right, my eyes shot open.
I wasn’t in my bed at all – I was somewhere else, in an elegantly-furnished room with grey watered silk wallpaper, a four-posted bed made of dark wood, and bright white silk sheets.
“Sleep well?”
Suddenly, it all came crashing back to me. The gorgeous stranger at the bar. The torrid cab ride filled with kisses and nuzzling and passion. And the incredible sex, the breathtaking sex, the sex that had fulfilled me more than anything else ever before.
Oh, and the Chinese food.
That hadn’t been bad, either.
I flushed as I sat up, pulling the sheet over my breasts. “Yeah,” I said, wiping my eyes with both hands. My fingers came away streaked with eyeshadow and mascara, and I groaned when I saw that it had streaked all over the white pillowcases. “Sorry about that,” I groaned.
Peter chuckled. In the light of morning, he was even hotter than he had been at the bar. He was tall and toned, lean but muscular, with eyes the color of the ocean and blonde hair. There was a light dusting of blonde scruff on his sculpted jaw and chin.
He was easily the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen.
“Don’t worry about it,” Peter said. He waved a hand in the air. “Feel like breakfast?”
I bit my lip. “I think I’m still full from last night,” I moaned. To my surprise, I’d eaten a whole container of lo mein and a huge portion of kung pao chicken. “That Chinese food was so good.”
Peter smirked. “It’s even better leftover,” he said. “Would you believe me if I told you I signed this condo because that place was right down the street?”
I burst out laughing. “Actually, yeah,” I said, glancing around. “I think I would.”
“So? Breakfast, then?”
I flushed. “I should really be getting home,” I said. “I have a ton of work to catch up on this weekend.”
Peter nodded. “Your firm must really trust you.”
“Baker & Sons,” I said. “I haven’t been there long, you know how it goes. I have to prove myself.”
Peter nodded again. “I’m impressed,” he said.
“Why?” I raised an eyebrow. “Not around a lot of working women?”
“Not unless you count planning charity dinners over mimosas, no,” Peter said dryly.
I bit my lip, remembering that he had told me he was newly single. That’s not a good sign, I thought. He’s probably not looking for anything serious…not that I even have time to date right now.
“Well, as fun as that sounds…” I smirked. In the bright morning light, Peter’s blue eyes were the most beautiful things I’d ever seen.
“How about if you shower,” Peter suggested. “And I’ll whip together some breakfast.”
I hesitated. I wanted to stay – so badly that it almost frightened me – but I knew I had work to do, and it would take at least an hour to get from Peter’s tony Manhattan condo to my tiny apartment in Brooklyn.
“Hey, I’ll sweeten the deal,” Peter said. “I have to swing by the office, so I’ll drop you off on the way. Sound good?”
“Just be warned,” I said dryly. “I’m not exactly living in a nice place right now.”
Peter seemed surprised, but he didn’t say anything. He pressed a fluffy towel into my hands and showed me the lavish bathroom. Everything was glass and marble, and there was a huge copper soaking tub that was calling my name. But I knew it would take forever to fill up, so I stepped into the glass shower stall and soaped my hair with Peter’s luxury shampoo.
When I was all cleaned up, I dried off. Peter had put a robe of blue velvet in the bathroom for me, and I pulled it on. Just as I was about to leave, I peeked under the sink. It was full of women’s toiletries, and I frowned.
What if Peter had lied about being single? What if he lived with someone, a girlfriend, and she was out of town?
The thought troubled me.
When I walked into the hall, I smelled something amazing. In the kitchen, I found Peter standing behind a stove, wearing an apron, flipping maple sausages and pancakes and eggs.
“This looks incredible,” I said, frowning. “I’m amazed you can cook.”
Peter threw me a wounded look, but he burst out laughing after a few seconds. “I know,” he said. “But I spent a lot of time with the cook growing up,” he added softly. “She was my favorite person in the house.”
The thought was sad, somehow. I pictured a tiny Peter, alone in a lavish kitchen, as his parents partied elsewhere. Don’t be ridiculous, I thought. You have no idea what his situation was like growing up…maybe he’s a self-made man!
I nodded and blushed as I climbed onto a stool. Peter passed me a plate loaded with breakfast, and I practically moaned as I began to eat.
“So,” Peter said, looking at me with such intensity that I flushed. “You grow up around here?”
I nodded. “On Long Island, actually,” I said, licking my lips.
“Are your folks still there?”
I sighed. “No,” I said.
Peter frowned. “Is everything okay, Honey?”
I nodded. “I’m just…I’m not exactly used to talking about my past,” I said quietly. “Or really, talking at all. I don’t get out much.”
Peter smirked. “Well, you can talk to me,” he said. He sat next to me. “What, do you have some roguish older brother who tanked the family fortune?”
I laughed dryly. “And just how did you know I grew up wealthy?”
Peter eyed me. “Come on,” he said. “I’m not wrong. I can tell,” he said. “It’s…I don’t know, hard to describe. But I can just tell.”
I frowned. “I didn’t know it was that obvious,” I said.
“It’s not a bad thing,” Peter countered. “It means we have something in common.” He raised an eyebrow. “If I told you about the number of women who practically started sobbing when I told them stories of my parents ignoring me to go party, you wouldn’t believe it.”
I nodded sympathetically. “Yeah, that sounds familiar.”
“So, what happened to your family?”
I sighed. “It’s not a good story,” I said firmly. “But to keep things short, let’s just say that my father lied for the entirety of my childhood and adolescence. When my mother died of cancer, he came out and said that we were broke, that we’d always been broke.” And now I owe a measly seven billion dollars to Uncle Sam, and god knows who else, I added silently in my head.
“Fuck,” Peter said. “That’s so awful.”
“Yeah.” I sighed deeply. “It’s…not awesome.”
“I was wondering why someone so smart and gorgeous like you was working as a paralegal,” Peter continued. “Most girls like you, well, they’re society women.”
I laughed bitterly. “I honestly have no interest in that,” I said. “But I put myself through college, and I got my job on my own, with no help. And I’ve been fine until now.”
Peter frowned. “And why do I get the sense that not everything is fine at the moment?”
I stared at Peter for what felt like a long time, trying to figure out whether I could trust him. I barely knew this man – we’d only met for the first time twelve hours ago. But something about his blue eyes told me that he was sincere and kind.
The type of man I could trust.
I tried to keep my voice as neutral as possible while I spilled my story. I told Peter everything – the debts, the credit card accounts in my name, my dying father.
By the time I was done, my eyes were filled with tears. Peter handed me a napkin, and I blotted my eyes dry, deeply embarrassed.
“I feel so stupid,” I said. “There’s no reason why I should’ve told you any of that – you don’t even know me!”
Peter was giving me a very strange look.
“What?” I asked nervously. “What is it?”
Peter bit his lip and frowned. “Nothing,” he said. “But…I think I have an idea of how I could help.”
I blinked. “What?”