In the end, the longer he stood in the cold, waiting for her shadow to move across the room and answer the bell, the more jittery he became.
When Cassie finally opened the door, the fist around Brad’s lungs let go, and his breath rushed out in relief. “Hey,” he managed with an uncertain smile.
She stepped back, swung the door open wide. Her pursed lips told him she wasn’t entirely glad to see him, but he stepped inside. He’d made it into the front hall. Progress was progress—he’d take what she offered.
“Did you read it?”
Okay maybe not so much progress. Brad shifted the pizza box so her folder protruded from beneath. “No. I don’t cheat.”
“Uh huh. Not what I’ve heard.” She pulled the folder free and set it on the entry table.
What she’d heard? No…he wasn’t going to ask. He didn’t want to argue. Instead, he tapped the pizza box. “Can I put this in your oven?”
Cassie arched an eyebrow. “Do you cook?”
“Well…no. But I can follow directions on a pizza.” He smirked. “It’s not exactly rocket science, sweetheart.”
Chuckling, she took the box out of his hands. “I’ll handle the convection oven.”
Convection…yeah. Probably best if she cooked. Most days he did good with stovetop Hamburger Helper. He lingered in the entryway a moment, admiring the sway of her hips as she ascended the stairs to her kitchen. It struck him then what she was wearing—pajama pants and a loose tank top. Nothing that screamed sexy, and yet, the outfit held allure. The pants clung to her shapely bottom, highlighting her already mouth-watering curves. While that ordinary black tank snugged across her breasts…which he realized were free from constraint when she turned the corner and he witnessed her in profile.
Beneath his jeans, his dozing cock stirred to life. Choking back a groan, Brad returned to the front porch and the cold air there. He was not going to make this sexual tonight. If he stood any slight chance of ever getting that woman back in bed, he needed to connect with her some other way first. Hence the pizza and work.
He lugged his briefcase inside, took an immediate right turn into her spacious living room and its incredible floor-to-ceiling windows. Turning to join her upstairs in the kitchen, he noticed another glass-paneled wall that he’d missed the night before on the rear of the house. Beyond, terra-cotta pavestones created an expansive back patio encased by small, boundary floor lights. He moved to the sliding glass door, curious as to how the patio lacked any trace of the previous night’s snowfall.
An overhanging balcony answered the quandary. Tucked beside the open-backed staircase that led above sat an in-ground hot tub that bubbled gently. Alternating red and blue lights slowly dimmed on and off.
If he’d known she had a hot tub, they’d have made use of it last night, damn it. He’d love to get her in the water. Hell, he’d make a pact with the devil to see her skin aglow in that soft lighting.
Had her husband made love to her there?
Brad scowled at the totally unacceptable thought. Of course her husband had enjoyed her in that tub. No guy with a libido wouldn’t have.
Still, it bugged him that another man had known that sweet perfection.
He turned away before his mind could run away from him. Maybe some other time he’d bring up the hot tub. When he could be certain he wasn’t some replacement for a ghost from her past. Opening his briefcase, he called up to her, “I thought we could throw together some alternate proposals for our mutual clients.”
Chapter Eleven
Brad tossed his crust into the empty pizza box and stretched out on the floor, his elbow on the pillow beneath his chest, his head in his hand. Cassie grinned up from an over-stuffed neon orange file folder. “Make yourself at home,” she teased.
“I am.” He stretched out his legs, rolled onto his back, and folded his arms behind his head. “I need a break from research.”
She let out a laugh. “A break? I’ve been quoting and you’ve been listening.”
“Exactly.”
Chuckling, he turned his head to look at her. She sat cross-legged on top of a matching floor pillow with a significant stack of open references by her left knee. Her long hair spilled over one shoulder and brushed against the top of her thigh. A lovely picture in and of itself, but her smile, and the bright happy light behind her eyes, made her breath-taking. Happy—she was legitimately enjoying their evening, despite the heavy workload that remained between them.