Pleased with that answer, Royce headed to the kitchen to snag her a mug. He returned to find her seated at the table in the chair across from the one he’d occupied. Her head rested on one of her hands, elbow on the table, the other massaging her temple.
He placed a Snoopy mug that he’d found in her cabinet in front of her, and sat down next to her, rather than in his prior seat. He shook the bottle of pills in his hand and drew her attention. “I dug around and found these in your spare bathroom cabinet.” He dumped two aspirins in his palm and held them out for her to take.
Surprise etched her features as she searched his face and then reached for the medicine. “Thank you,” she said, cutting her gaze to the vanilla creamer he’d swiped from the fridge. She poured some in her cup and downed the pills with the hot, sweet mixture.
“You’re uncomfortable with me being here.”
Her gaze jerked to his. “No. No. My head hurts and… ” She stopped and stared into her cup, palms now wrapping around it. “And I… you know.” Her lashes lifted and she seemed to be lost for words, something he was sure the well known dynamo prosecutor rarely struggled with.
“Tell me,” he prompted.
“Oh well, heck. I’ll just say it. I’m a little embarrassed about last night. I wasn’t exactly proper.”
Still honest, minus the alcohol. He’d expected her to be more guarded, expected maybe everything would change with morning light, that she wouldn’t be near as enticing as he’d thought the night before. But she was just as refreshingly different from what he’d expected from her today, as she had been yesterday. And he knew that part of what made her so appealing to him was how real she was. Perhaps the most real thing to touch his life in a very long time. He didn’t want her to feel embarrassed. Hell, he’d wanted her just as much or maybe more than she had him. Seeing her so excited had made him burn for more. Her trust meant more to him than acting on that desire.
“Come here.” He turned his chair and held out his hand in invitation. She looked at him, nervousness in her eyes. He drew her hand into his, tugged gently, and softly added, “Please.”
For a moment, he thought she would refuse but satisfaction warmed him as she pushed from her chair and came to him. It took so little for her to make him want, to make him need. Such a simple gesture of her willingly sliding into his lap wasn’t so simple for Lauren though. The effort he knew it took for her to reach beyond her inhibitions magnified its meaning a hundred times over.
Before she could change her mind, he wrapped his arms around her waist. “You have no reason to be embarrassed with me. I loved last night.”
“But we didn’t”
“I loved last night,” he repeated. “And since its the weekend, I would love it if you would spend the day with me.”
Her eyes went wide. “You want to spend the day with me?”
He nodded as he laced his fingers behind her neck and pulled her lips to his in a quick but hungry kiss. “What do you say?”
She hesitated. “This isn’t exactly how I had this planned.”
“Thought you could use me for a night of hot sex and be done with me, huh?”
Her cheeks flushed. “No,” she said. “I mean yes. I mean...” She groaned.
He laughed. “Spend the day with me, Lauren.”
“Royce.” Her voice hinted at uneasiness. "I’m… ” She let her voice trail off, then gave a delicate little laugh. “See what you do to me? It’s not normal for me to not finish sentences. You’re very”
“Unexpected,” he filled in, using her words from the night before.
Her features softened. “Yes. You are very unexpected and I just really don’t know how to react to you.”
“Honestly.” he said. “Just say, and do, whatever feels right.”
She considered him a moment, then shook her head. “This is crazy, Royce. I’m so not your type.”
He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer but he asked anyway, “And what exactly is my type?”
“Julie,” she said. “Blonde and gorgeous and curvy and”
He kissed her, his tongue sliding into her mouth, tasting her slowly, with delicate sensuality. “You are my type. You, Lauren.” His knuckles caressed her cheek. “Spend the day with me.”
“You want to?”
“Very much.”
She leaned back and searched his face, then glanced at the clock above the bar. “Even if I agree, it’s ten-thirty. I promised to join my family for lunch at twelve-thirty.”
“Then have dinner with me.” She hesitated, and he added, “Trying to cut and run on me?”
Her gaze latched onto his, narrowed, “What time for dinner?”
He smiled with his success. “Seven.”
“Seven-thirty,” she countered, and somehow he knew it was because he’d press her into challenge mode, into courtroom battle mode, with his ‘cut and run’ comment. And he liked the contrast of sweet and spicy that was this woman, liked it so much ,too much.
He shook his head and laughed. “Seven-thirty,” he agreed, setting her on her feet before he carried her to her bedroom and forgot dinner altogether. “I’ll drop you by your parents’ house and save you the cab money if you like.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to,” he said. And he wanted to do so much more with her as well, which was why he set her on her feet, away from him, firmly maintaining his seat. “You should go shower and get ready. I’ll be here waiting when you’re ready.”