They’re amazing.”
Wince.
They’re amazing? Why not start patting herself on the back?
“They look incredible.” He took the pan. “Thank you, wow.
A lot. Really.”
“Sure.” She forced a smile, sick and panicking. Why had she thought this was a good idea? Marie and Abigail had forgotten the fact that Justin was a guy. If guys wanted to see women, they called. If not, they didn’t. This was not highly complicated. “I thought you’d enjoy them.”
“I will. I know I will. They look delicious.”
He looked delicious, too, but also clearly and painfully tortured by her presence.
“Okay, then.” She backed away a few steps, feeling as if she’d swallowed one of the bricks his house was made of. “See you around.”
“Definitely. We’ll do…something. Soon.”
Something. Soon. She barely managed to keep her bright shiny smile from dulling before she turned and fled.
Message received and understood. If rocky-road brownies weren’t enough, and she wasn’t enough, then nothing would be enough.
So. It was totally over. Over! From now on she’d leave Justin Case alone.
THAT WAS NOT HOW HE WANTED his latest encounter with Candy to go.
Justin closed the front door and slumped against it. Damn.
Damn. Could he have handled that any worse? She’d made him brownies. He was still holding them; they smelled fabulous. A sweet, generous gesture—something Angie would never have thought to do in a million years—and how had he reacted? He’d stammered a few awkward words of thanks and spent the rest of the time gaping at her as if she were a stripper who’d made a house call. Real smooth, especially after he’d practically jumped her last time they were together.
He had excuses, but hadn’t offered any. The night before he’d been at Troy’s house, working. Their brains had given out around 3:00 a.m. and they’d had a few beers to unwind.
Justin had been home in bed by 5:00 a.m., was up at 8:00
a.m., finished the chapter and emailed it to Troy for the final check. After a workout and some lunch, he’d been so sleepy he couldn’t hold out any longer, he’d gone upstairs for a nap.
Then the dream, and then Candy, so beautiful and fresh in real life, on top of the picture of her lingering in his mind: hot, wanton and lace-covered—or rather lace- un covered.
In short, he’d lost his cool, feeling thick-headed, bad-breathed, unshowered and entirely unappealing in com parison.
Oh, and still horny.
Great.
He could have invited her in to share the treats. Yeah, his place looked like it belonged to a frat boy the night after a party, but he could have explained he only lived like the typical slob bachelor on tough deadlines.
He could have brought up the postponed get-together with Troy and friends a little more specifically than “Something…
soon.” With all the other guys she was dating, he didn’t want to delay too long. It was not like she was home waiting for his call.
He
should have decided by now whether he was a potential boyfriend or a reporter so he wouldn’t keep sending c’mere/
go away signals.
After he ate a brownie—he inhaled over the pan—or maybe two, he’d call Troy, fix a firm date for the party, yes, soon, go immediately over to Candy’s place, apologize for being in outer space when she came by, and invite her. The sooner he figured out her story, the sooner he could write their ending, the sooner he could figure out what these feelings meant and the sooner he’d have the chance to make a recent dream come entirely and erotically true.
One thing was for sure: he was not going to be such a screwup around her again.
Candy glumly pulled on her skintight thermal jogging suit. Exercise was the best method she knew of to chase away the blues which had settled heavily an hour ago—not coincidentally right after the brownie disaster. It would be dark soon, but she had to get out and chase a runner’s high or she’d bury herself in ice cream and old movies and never see daylight again.
Headband arranged firmly over her ears, gloves protecting her fingers, lip balm on her lips, she gave her running shoes one last check and headed out to do light stretches in the driveway, then started a brisk walk to warm her muscles.