“Did it a minute ago.”
“And you’re still going to make the rehearsal dinner on Friday?”
“It’s on my calendar in red ink.”
“Good. I guess I can forgive you, then. When is your appointment?”
“One-thirty tomorrow.”
“I’ll meet you there. We can have a quick cup of coffee.”
“Sounds good.”
Sienna hung up the phone with a sense of satisfaction. There, she could do it. Not only did she reschedule her appointment, but she talked to her sister and smoothed things over.
A.J. came back into the apartment and Sienna looked around the doorway of the kitchen so that she could talk to him. “There are towels in the closet next to the bathroom door.”
“Thanks. Sienna…” He walked toward her and stopped a few feet from her.
“How do you like your eggs?” she asked, desperate to change the subject to get away from her uncharacteristic comment about him leaving. She didn’t know where that had come from.
“Scrambled,” he replied with an exasperated voice.
She turned away and went into the kitchen, but he followed her.
“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about what you said yesterday. I don’t know where we’re going to go, but just for the record, I like you a hell of a lot, Sienna.”
She exhaled unevenly, trying desperately to keep her emotions tightly concealed and failing. “I like you, too,” she said, a lump forming in her throat. “But we have to be realistic. There are so many reasons that it would be difficult for us. We both have demanding jobs. I don’t think I’d do well with a man who’s gone most of the time. A relationship worth having is one that you can build on. How can we do that if you’re absent?” She raised her face and forced a smile. “It’s getting late. Go take your shower, so that we can get going.”
“You seem to have a lot of reasons, but I don’t want to stop seeing you.” He released a heavy sigh and gave her shoulder an acknowledging squeeze. He backed off and she breathed a little easier.
She walked to the coffeemaker and switched on the machine.
She went to the refrigerator and opened the door and just stood there. Maybe it was her brush with death yesterday, but she was feeling decidedly fragile today.
A swell of emotion blindsided her. It was typical of Lynne to do this. Sienna should be accustomed to it by now, but she felt tears gathering at the back of her eyes. She loved her parents, so why did she find it so difficult to show it?
The deep sound of his voice jerked her out of her emotional state. She avoided his gaze as she gathered her composure. Keeping her voice light, she replied, “No, it’s just so full of food.”
A quick glance at his face showed her the wicked grin she knew was there. He folded his arms and leaned into the doorjamb. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but that’s the purpose of that particular appliance.”
“Ha. Ha,” she said as her voice cracked. She squeezed her eyes shut, releasing the tightness in her chest, letting it wash away a familiar and routine response.
A.J. sobered. “Are you all right?”
Sienna juggled the eggs and the package of bacon and turned to face him, a witty comeback on her tongue. That was when she got the full view of him and the eggs slid out of her hands, dropping to the floor unnoticed.
A.J. stood in the doorway dressed in just a white towel, one that barely covered all the important parts—the taut curve of his buttocks and rangy, powerful muscles of one thigh. Every line of his body flowed into the next, every delineation of muscle seemed the perfect balance of power and leanness, every flat plane solid and strong. The black silken thickness of his hair clung to the strong column of his neck as rivulets of water traveled enticingly over his taut bronzed skin.
“Does dropping eggs on the floor run in the family?” he asked. He walked into the kitchen, grabbed a paper towel, and bent down to sop up the egg mess. The towel around his lean waist split even wider as his whipcord thigh muscles bunched.
“Why aren’t you dressed?” she asked. It was so much easier for her to focus on his physique than to think about the turbulent emotions she was desperately trying to keep at bay.
“I couldn’t find a razor. I must have left mine at home.”
She set the bacon on the counter, leaned down, and took the soiled paper towel out of his hand. She threw it in the trash and grabbed his hand. Leading him back to the bathroom, she pulled open the vanity door and rummaged around inside.
She emerged with the razor and very gently pushed on his shoulders until he sat on the commode, propped up by the wall behind him. Boldly, she straddled his lap, wringing a groan out of him at the suddenness of her groin pressed to the heat of his.