Chapter 43

As it turned out, he didn't have waffles, or even a waffle-maker. But he did have bacon, orange juice, and pancake mix. Together in his gourmet kitchen, we whipped up stacks of pancakes and bacon, fried up extra-crispy. Carrying it all to his dining room, we ate looking out over the riverfront skyline.

Funny, I'd known Jake for years. And yet, except for occasional snack food, I'd never eaten with him. Glancing out the window, I felt myself smile. I was doing a lot of new things with him.

Soon, I wanted to do some of those things again. My stomach fluttered. Maybe after breakfast.

"You have a killer smile," Jake said. "Anyone ever tell you that?"

"Me?" I returned my gaze to Jake, who looked sinfully tousled in the early morning light. "Not lately," I said. "But—" I made a show of hesitating. "—Wait a minute, you don't mean like a serial-killer smile, do you?"

He gave me a speculative look. "Now that you mention it…"

"Hey," I said, "I can assure you, I'm mostly sane." I took a tiny sip of my orange juice. "Or at least, that's what the voices tell me."

Before making breakfast, Jake had thrown on a black T-shirt to go with his black running pants. He looked fabulous, of course, but he would've looked even more fabulous without the shirt. I had the teeniest regret that he was wearing a shirt at all. Embarrassingly, I'd always fantasized about someday having breakfast with him half-naked.

I couldn't really blame him though. The shirt was my own fault. When he'd started frying up the bacon, I'd practically forced him to put on more clothes – and not only to keep myself from pouncing on him.

Mostly, I was worried about all that hot bacon grease. One wrong move, and any exposed skin would be in serious danger. Jake might not care. But I did, and not just for superficial reasons.

There was something about him that touched my heart. I couldn't help but wonder if anyone had ever looked out for him, really looked out for him. Knowing what little I did of his family, I seriously doubted it.

"Wanna know what the voices tell me?" Jake said.

"What?" I asked.

"That we need to go shopping."

"For what?" I asked.

He glanced down at my makeshift outfit. I was wearing the same clothes I'd borrowed from his closet. "I've gotta replace your stuff," he said.

"What do you mean you've got to replace it?"

"Only fair," he said, "since I lost it."

"Yeah, but I borrowed your T-shirt last night," I said. "And it got ripped. So I guess we're sort of even."

"That was only one shirt," he said. "And I ripped it, not you."

At the memory, I felt myself blush. I lowered my voice. "Can I confess something?"

"You'd better."

"I really liked that."

He gave me a slow, intimate smile. "Yeah?"

I swallowed and felt myself nod. "Of course, you wouldn't want to do that all the time. I mean, think of the clothes you'd go through."

"Or," Jake said, "think of the fun you'd have."

I laughed. "Well, there is that."

"About your stuff," he said, "let me replace it. I'll feel bad if I don't."

The offer was shamefully tempting. Obviously, Jake could afford it. And I couldn't. But something about the idea didn't seem quite right. "Oh come on," I said. "That really wasn't your fault."

"Well, it sure as hell wasn't yours," he said.

"And," I continued, "who knows? My stuff might turn back up." I hesitated. "Eventually."

"If you believe that," Jake said, "I've got a bridge to sell you somewhere."

I leaned forward. "Really? How much are you asking?"

"I dunno." He downed the rest of his orange juice. "How much you got?"

"Well," I said, looking down at my plate, "I do have this last piece of bacon…"

"Done." He reached across the table and speared the bacon with his fork.

I stifled a laugh. "Hey!"

He hesitated. "So, uh, you want it?"

"Oh, never mind." I rolled my eyes. "Take it, take it. Please."

He popped the bacon into his mouth and grinned over at me. "Sucker."

He looked so boyish that I had to smile. "Jeez," I said. "Guys and their meat." Instantly, my face grew warm at the obvious implication. "Uh, forget I said that."

"Not a chance," he said.

It felt good to joke around with him again. Somehow, the last twenty-four hours had been way too serious for my liking and probably for his too. Bishop's visit hadn't helped. But somehow, the act of making breakfast together had eased most of the tension, and I felt oddly content.

It was Sunday morning, and I was with an amazing guy in an amazing place. The previous night, I'd had the best sex of my life, and was eating my second-favorite breakfast food.

At this instant, life was good. I blew out a breath. But tomorrow was Monday. Reluctantly, I pulled my gaze from Jake and looked out the window, taking in the cityscape. What I really needed was a job. Actually, I needed two jobs, given the fact I had no clothes, no furniture, and no place to live.

To replace everything I'd lost, one job would never be enough.

Half of me wanted to give Jake hell for everything he'd cost me, especially on the job front. I still had no idea what he'd been thinking. But then, there was that other half of me. That half wanted to drag Jake to the bedroom and forget the real world existed at all.

When I returned my gaze to Jake, he was watching me with an expression I couldn’t quite decipher. If I didn't know any better, I'd have said he looked content. But Jake was never content – not fully anyway, not for as long as I'd known him.

But then again, he did just have bacon.

Recalling the piece he'd swiped from me, I gave him a stern look. "You still owe me a bridge," I said.

"Alright," he said. "If they have one at the mall, it's yours. I'll add it to the other stuff I owe you."

"Seriously," I told him, "you don't need to do that."

"I know," he said. "But let me anyway. Alright?"

I bit my lip. "I dunno."

"Come on," he said, reaching for my hand. "It'll be fun. I always wanted to go shopping with a beautiful girl."

I looked heavenward. "Now you're just sucking up."

"Yeah." He gave my hand a squeeze. "But it doesn't mean it's not true."

"Oh get real," I said. "No guy wants to shop. Not really."

"Why not?" he said. "I can watch you try on stuff." Slowly, he rubbed his thumb against my palm. "Later, if I'm lucky, maybe I'll get to watch you take it off."

Instantly, my temperature shot up several degrees. "Okay, now you're just being unfair," I said.

"Yeah? How so?"

"How is any girl supposed to resist that?"

"Luna," he said, his voice softening, "you're not just any girl."

I swallowed. "I'm not?"

His gaze dipped to my lips. "No. You're not."

Just when I started to feel all warm and fuzzy, he added. "You're a smart-ass. And bratty as hell." His voice grew lower. "And so sweet that I want to drag you away and corrupt the shit out of you."

Oh wow. My lips suddenly felt way too dry. Without thinking, I brushed my tongue against my upper lip and managed to croak out, "You do?"

He nodded.

I glanced toward the bedroom. "Just so you know," I said, "you could corrupt me now if you really wanted to."

A slow smile spread across his face. "Yeah?"

I felt myself nod.

He pushed away from the table. "Now, you did it," he said.

I blinked innocently up at him. "Did what?"

"Here," he said, "let me show you."

And so he did, right there in the dining room. By the time we finished, I was too blissful to argue about anything – not about shopping, not about my lost jobs, and not about the fact I knew all of this was temporary.

Soon, I'd be leaving. And he'd go back to whatever – or whoever – he was doing. The idea made me just a little sick to my stomach, but I wasn't a fool. So I kept telling myself that only a real fool would give up the chance to enjoy this for whatever it was.

The way it looked, Jake was enjoying himself too. It was a win-win.

Right?

A couple hours later, we were showered, dressed, and ready to hit the mall. Jake was wearing dark slacks and a charcoal dress shirt that made him look half-dangerous and all delicious.

If I didn't love looking at him, I might have felt outclassed, given what I was wearing. Short of clothing options, I'd thrown on the same yoga pants and long-sleeved shirt that I'd purchased with Bianca.

More than the thing at the museum, the upcoming shopping excursion was feeling more like an actual date, and I felt surprisingly jittery. I knew it was silly. After everything we'd done in the last twenty-four hours, a simple trip to the mall was hardly anything to be nervous over.

And yet, I was nervous, even if I was determined not to show it.

I was just lacing up my new black tennis shoes, when I heard the sound of a key card in the front door.  I froze. So did Jake. A moment later, the door flew open, and there she stood – Bianca.