She sighed. “We should probably go check on that.”
It was the “we” that got to him. He’d wanted to be a “we” with Stephanie Martin for the last several months. Looking back now, he thought he knew when it’d hit him.
She’d been standing in the break room talking to Charles from Entertainment and while laughing at something said to her, she’d met Nick’s gaze and winked.
In that little blink of an eye, he’d fallen hard.
That tiny wink had said so much. It was playful and affectionate, and it had warmed him on the inside enough to know that out of all the women in his world, she was the one he wanted to spend his down time with.
Sliding off him carefully, Steph rose to her feet and wobbled a bit. When he stood, the same thing happened. His legs felt like jelly.
“Jeez, Steph,” he said, laughing and clutching her close. “You wrung me out.”
Her blush was lovely and he hated to let her go, but he had dinner to cook. He needed to charm her with more than his bedroom skills. So after a quick kiss on the nose, he moved toward the kitchen. Catching up her duffle on the way, he set it on a dining chair and took note of the luggage tag.
“Stephanie Donovan?” he asked as he pulled off the condom and tossed it.
She was righting her skirt and didn’t look up. “My maiden name.”
“I didn’t know you were divorced.” He turned on the faucet and studied her as he washed his hands.
“It’s not something that comes up and I don’t like to talk about it.”
“That bad, huh?”
Nick dried his hands then turned to light the burner beneath the waiting pot of water. “Want some wine? A beer?”
“A beer would be nice, thanks.” Steph took a seat on a barstool at the breakfast bar.
“It wasn’t bad. It just wasn’t good.”
He grabbed a couple longnecks out of the fridge, twisted off the tops and set one in front of her. “How long ago did you break up?”
“A couple years. Should have been sooner, but we were both too stubborn to admit it wasn’t working.”
Catching up her hand, he gave it a squeeze. “You hate to give up. It’s what makes you such a damn good lawyer.”
“Thanks.” Her dark eyes sparkled with warmth at his compliment. “Tom and I never should have gotten married. We were friends in law school, nothing more. He was such a player, I never took him seriously. Then somehow we ended up together and I still can’t figure out how or why.”
“Love?”
“I thought so, but really I think we did it just because it was ‘time’, you know? Tom felt like he was at the age where he should get married. All of his colleagues were married and I think he started to feel a little out of place.”
“I can see that,” he admitted, resting his elbows on the granite countertop.
She wrinkled her nose and it hit him suddenly that he’d just been inside her, holding her, touching her however he wanted. It was the first time he could remember where he didn’t forget the sex as soon as it was done. Fucking Steph was an addition to an already established relationship and not the entire reason for it.
Now if he could only change their professional relationship into a personal one. He had to admit, he was usually actively working to do just the opposite so he was out of his depth.
“Do guys have a marriage clock?”
He laughed. “Like a biological clock?”
“Yes.”
“I guess there is some peer pressure after awhile. If you’re thirty-something and single, even women start to think there must be something wrong with you or else some chick would’ve snapped you up.” Turning away, he opened the fridge and pulled out the produce he’d chosen to make a salad with. He was a simple guy. Spaghetti, salad and breadsticks were about as much as he could do with confidence in a tasty outcome. “I personally don’t care what people think.”
“I would say that’s pretty obvious.”
The humor in her tone had him looking over his shoulder at her.
Steph was grinning. “This whole wish list thing is really a bad idea, but I have to admit, it’s worth it to see you dressed like that.”
“You’re not laughing at me, are you?” He’d been a little nervous. Like anyone, he didn’t want to look stupid in front of someone he wanted to sleep with. Bent over like he was, he knew she was getting an eyeful of every damn thing he had to offer.
“No.” Her gaze was mischievous and warm. “I’m actually really impressed with you. You have enough confidence to wear that. I know I wouldn’t be able to do it.”
“Personally…” He turned with an armful of vegetables, which he dumped on the counter. “I’d like you in just the hat. That’s my Christmas wish.”
“You know—” Her fingers toyed with her beer.
“I know what?”
She sighed. “I really thought getting the sex out of the way would make me more comfortable.”
“The sex isn’t ‘ out of the way’,” he retorted, pulling a knife out of the wooden block next to him. “Just say what you’re thinking. I’m the one wearing nothing but a Santa hat, apron and a smile, so you’ve got no business being shy about anything.”
“Thank you,” she blurted, her gaze focused on the beer label she was removing from the bottle. “I don’t care why you did it. I don’t care if you just want to get laid. I’m flattered you went to all this trouble.”
Nick paused with his knife halfway through a cucumber and stared at her. “It wasn’t any trouble, Steph. I like giving you what you want, I like seeing you smile.”
She blew out her breath and fiddled with her collar. “Do you need my help with anything?”
It wasn’t like her to be so nervous or to switch subjects because she was uncomfortable, which told him she wasn’t dealing too well with tonight’s events. He knew it was a lot to throw at her—the photo, the wish list, the sex. Before the Secret Santa exchange they’d been nothing but distant co-workers. Now they were lovers.
He’d had a couple months to adapt to his changing feelings for her. She’s had a couple hours. She was asking for a little space and he had no problem giving it to her.
“No, I’ve got it covered. Go watch TV or something. It won’t be too much longer.”