Showered and starving, I knocked on Jade’s door. It was quarter to four in the morning, but I noticed some movement across the courtyard on the second-floor hallway. If NYC was the city that never slept, Shady Oaks was the apartment complex that didn’t.

No one came to her door, so I knocked again.

I was starting to think that she’d backed out or fallen asleep, when the door opened. Her head was wrapped in a towel, her body in another.

I grinned. “You didn’t need to get all dressed up for me.”

“Hardee har har.” She gave me the finger. “Come in. I’ll just be a minute.”

It was all I could do to keep from grabbing her, kissing her, taking a good look at what was under that towel, but I got distracted by the scents filling the room.

“Something smells great,” I said, as she tucked into her bedroom.

Her place was similar to mine except that she barely had any furniture and, well, had a lot less mess. But then again, the mess was gone from my place now, too.

A tiny old sofa sat in front of her fireplace, and she had what looked like a folding card table with two mismatched wooden chairs by the kitchen. That was the sum total of her furniture.

She came out of the bedroom, her long dark curls wetting her baggy T-shirt, below which she wore a pair of plaid men’s boxer shorts. If I had to guess, she was purposefully trying to look unsexy after her night in that skimpy uniform, but she might as well give up on that. Jade couldn’t pull off unsexy no matter how hard she tried. At least not from where I stood.

Her legs looked hot and strong, stretching out from the baggy boxers that were loose enough that I’d be able to push my hands up her thighs and…

Great. Now all I could think of was doing just that.

Fuck, I wanted this woman.

She turned on the flame under what looked like an antique frying pan, one of those super heavy ones a cartoon character would use to hit an enemy over the head.

“How do you like your eggs?” Bending to peer at the flame under the pan, she adjusted the knob, then straightened.

“Doesn’t matter,” I answered. “Sunny-side up?”

“Sunny-side up it is.”

She bent again to check on whatever was in the oven. I smelled bacon but couldn’t see any on the stove. What I could see was how tight her rounded ass looked. Fucking hot, even in those plaid boxers. Especially in those boxers.

I forced myself to look away. “You don’t have much furniture.”

“No kidding.” She grabbed a stick of butter and a carton of eggs from the fridge. “It was you who claimed this place was furnished.”

“I did?”

“Well, whoever talked to my dad said it was furnished.”

“Oh.” I winced. What else had the person she’d mistaken me for told her da? “Some of the furnished units have more stuff than others. Looks like someone cleaned this place out.”

“Who lived here before me?” She dropped a huge chunk of butter into the pan, and it started to melt.

“Barely saw him. He must’ve worked during the day because we never crossed paths.”

Using a dishtowel to protect her hand, she lifted the frying pan and let the butter roll around until the surface was coated. Once again, I admired her strength, her arm muscles firing as she manipulated the heavy pan. Who needed a gym when you had a frying pan like that?

“It’s okay about the furniture,” she said. “I have a foam camping mat. Plus beggars can’t be choosers, right?” Grinning, she looked over her shoulder. “Isn’t that what you said?”

“You don’t even have a bed?” I walked toward the bedroom.

“Stay out of there.” Her tone stopped me short.

“So that’s where you’re keeping the contraband and gold bars.”

“That’s right.” She turned back to the stove and expertly cracked an egg into the pan, then another.

“How do you do that with one hand?” I strolled back toward the kitchen. My hands were twice as big as hers, and no way could I pull that off.

“Practice,” she said. “I like to cook.”

“Right. You want to work for a chef.”

Adding a fourth egg to the pan, she nodded. “Someday.” She cracked a fifth, then turned to me. “Three eggs enough? There’s plenty of bacon and biscuits too.”

“Three sounds great.”

After adding the fifth egg, she bent over and took a pan of biscuits from the oven. The scent was almost enough to distract me from the sight of her ass. Almost.

I started to drool.

As if I wasn’t already turned on by this woman, she’d fucking made me biscuits! I was rock hard. Hard at the sight of biscuits. What a pervert.

I tucked behind the counter, hoping my dick would calm down as she took a pan of bacon out of the oven and then started to put food on plates.

“Take a seat.” She nodded toward the table and chairs. “I didn’t make coffee, but there’s beer if you want one?”

“Sure. You?”

She nodded, and I opened a couple of beers and set them on the table just as she set down a plate with three eggs, about eight slices of bacon, and three biscuits for me, and one with two eggs, slightly less bacon, and one biscuit for her.

“Sit. Eat.”

I wasn’t going to say no.

She added pepper to her eggs, then handed the grinder to me. Using her fingers, she dug into a tiny ceramic bowl and pinched out a tiny amount of a pink flaky substance, and then rubbed it between her thumb and finger, letting the crushed powder fall onto her eggs.

“Salt?” She passed the tiny dish to me.

“Sure.” I’d never seen salt served that way, but followed her example, the edges of my finger and thumb barely squeezing into the little dish. Once my eggs were salted, I tucked into the food.

I groaned with pleasure. “This is so fucking good.”

She smiled her thanks through a mouthful of food.

I ate several more bites, knowing I looked like a pig but not caring. “Seriously,” I said through an almost chewed mouthful. “You are an amazing cook.”

“It’s just eggs.”

“Perfect eggs.” Somehow she’d managed to get the white part solid without any color on the bottoms and leaving the yolk soft. I chewed another piece of the salty bacon. “Did you cook the bacon in the oven?”

“Yeah. Cooks more evenly that way.” She took a bite. Some of the egg yolk dripped onto her chin, and I nearly choked watching her tongue lap it up. “Plus, less splatter to clean up.”

I loved how she ate with relish, not like most girls. Another huge turn on. Jade couldn’t do anything that wasn’t sexy.

“There’s no jam.” Steam rose as she broke open one of her biscuits. “Want some butter on yours?”

Mouth full, I shook my head.

“I hate store-bought jam,” she said. “Full of preservatives and too much sugar. I usually have homemade, but I had to pick and choose what I brought with me. Jars of jam didn’t make the cut.”

“Not a problem.” I took a long draft of my beer. “This is the best fucking meal I’ve had in ages. Maybe ever.”

“You, my new friend, are very easy to please.” She grinned.

I grinned straight back. New friend. I’d take it. Although I wanted something entirely different from Jade.

I polished off my food, then got up to clear my plate. “You done?” I reached for hers.

Licking her fingers, she nodded, and I took both plates to the sink.

“Just leave them there,” she said. “I’ll wash them in the morning.”

I rinsed the bacon grease off my fingers and dried my hands on my jeans. When I turned back, she was rubbing her shoulder, her eyes closed and tipping her head to the side.

I stepped up behind her. “Let me.” My hands dropped to her shoulders, and she stiffened.

“Hey,” I said. “It’s just a shoulder rub.” I gently dug in my thumbs, and she groaned even louder than I’d groaned at the food.

“You don’t need to— Oh!” Her head tipped back as I hit a knot.

“Shh,” I said. “Relax.”