Pascal
I wake up early, even before my alarm goes off. I’m too wired to sleep more, despite the luxurious massage.
After the spa, Tony picked Ivy up, but Yuna and I stayed behind for a leisurely mimosa dinner. She didn’t pressure me about Court or anything. We had some nice girl time, and I really like her. She’s a bit cavalier about money—understandable, given her background—but she’s also considerate and surprisingly unspoiled. By the time I got home, I was too relaxed and full to do anything but fall straight into bed.
After I shower, I reach for my phone to check the market. Oh crap. I turned it off at the spa at the request of my masseuse and forgot to turn it back on. I missed a couple of calls from Court yesterday, a text from Curie wishing me luck and a text from Court that arrived seconds ago.
Want me to come over and make you breakfast?
I smile at his sweet offer. Maybe I assigned too much meaning to what happened a couple nights ago. He really just wanted to stay away and give me the time and space to focus on prepping for the interview. Thanks, but you aren’t going to make it in time. Traffic sucks.
I’m right outside your door.
Pleasure surges. I spring-step my way to the bolted door and open it.
Court is standing there in a white T-shirt and denim shorts. A small grin is tugging at the corner of his mouth, and he’s holding a paper grocery bag. God. He looks so delicious—and hot.
“Hi,” I say, slightly breathless, even though the distance between my bedroom and the door isn’t far enough to make me exert myself.
“Hey. You look gorgeous and perky this morning.”
I step aside, and he comes in.
“I tried calling you, but you didn’t pick up,” he says.
“Sorry. I totally spaced out. Yuna treated Ivy and me to a girls’ day out.” I smile. “It was fun.”
“Never a dull moment with Yuna,” Court says. “If you aren’t having fun with her around, you’re doing something wrong.”
“I bet. The spa was so nice.”
He cups my face and brushes a thumb over my cheek. “You look relaxed and happy.” He kisses me. “You’re gonna kill it today.”
“Thanks.” I smile, nervous but also determined.
“Anyway, this is my test killer special.”
“Test killer special?”
“Yeah. Two eggs, sunny-side up, with a pat of butter, a few strips of bacon and half a grapefruit. It’s a simple, balanced breakfast of good protein, fat and vitamin C. No starchy carbs. Every time I eat like this, I do much better on tests. So I figured I’d make it for you.”
He’s so thoughtful, it makes me warm and glowing inside. It’s small thing, but it touches me more than some gra
nd, complicated gesture would. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
I watch him putter around in my kitchen. It’s smaller and less well equipped than the huge, sparkling one in his penthouse. But somehow he seems very at home with an old spatula and a frying pan. I take a moment to enjoy the domestic scene, then start the espresso machine. Curie got it for me on my birthday, and I plan to give myself an extra shot.
“Want one?” I ask him.
He smiles. “Yeah. A latte would be great.”
By the time I’m done getting our morning java ready, he places two plates of food on the table. They look yummy, and I realize I can’t think of a time I was this pampered and cared for by a guy. The most amazing thing is that I don’t even have to hint or ask. He just does it.
“By the way, did you give Yuna my number and ask her to take me to the spa yesterday?” I ask, between bites of bacon.
“No. Why?”