What Lola Wants (Leave Your Shoes On 1)

“Seriously?” Her brow lifted.

Alex sighed. Sometimes he got things a little out of order because of the OCD. He straightened and handed her the towel. “Sorry.”

“Thank you.” She rubbed the wet strands of her long hair.

He left her once more and snagged the Swiffer from the linen closet to mop the floor.

“Anal much?” she quipped.

“I don’t like messes.”

“Which makes it so bizarre that we’re best friends.”

True. But from the time she’d kicked a soccer ball into the side of his stormtrooper mask–shaped sand castle in the second grade, he’d been hooked on her. Had officially fallen in love around the seventh grade. And had lusted after her ever since. Though she had no clue. He intended to keep it that way. Guys like him didn’t score babes like her.

He dumped the wet towel in the hamper in the laundry room, threw away the now-damp but spotless Swiffer pad, and returned to the foyer to give her a hug, barely noticing that she drenched the front of his shirt. He’d suffer an additional dry-cleaning bill to have her in his arms.

“I’ve missed you like crazy,” he said. “You look great.” And felt even better. Her breasts nestled below the ledge of his pectorals, her hard nipples pressing against him.

“Ditto on both counts. And jeez, Alex. What’s with this brick wall of a chest you’ve got going on?”

She untangled one arm and splayed her palm over his muscles, her fingertips dangerously close to the flap of his shirt, where the first few buttons were undone. He couldn’t help but mentally will her to skim her hand over the exposed flesh. He burned for her touch.

“You’ve been working out,” she murmured, as though in awe.

“Couple times a week.” A total understatement, but whatever. He wasn’t in the mood to talk while Lola admired him. While her body melded to his and he inhaled her alluring, floral scent. She reminded him of lilacs in the spring.

“I’ve hated not seeing you every day,” she said.

“I’ll second that.”

Gazing up at him with a mesmeric expression on her delicately sculpted face and a glimmer in her sky-blue eyes, she asked, “Where are your glasses?”

Alex didn’t release her, stealing a few more minutes of her shapely body against his. “Backed over them with my car,” he teased.

“Then how the hell did you know it was me who came through the door?”

He chuckled. “The perfume and grand entrance were a dead giveaway. Aside from that, I went the Lasik route last month.”

“I didn’t even know!”

“Surprise.”

She studied him carefully, something indiscernible flitting over her beautiful features. She gave a slight, perplexed shake of her head, and the indefinable emotions that had been swirling in those bright irises of hers vanished. She simply said, “Wow, big difference.”

Alex’s gaze narrowed. Was it his imagination, or was she the tiniest bit breathless over him?

He groaned inwardly.

What a fucking ridiculous thought.

Lola gave him her adorable pout. “I’ve missed all your big successes. Lasik, and what about those last two accounts you recently landed—your biggest ones yet? We didn’t get to celebrate in person.”

He tried to dial back his own emotions. And the fire roaring through his veins. “The scotch you sent was a nice pat on the back, thank you. Though I really loved the Batman suit–patent artwork you framed.” Which now hung in his living room, along with two original Andy Warhols he’d inherited from his grandmother.

“Glad you enjoyed.”

He asked, “You quit your job to move home?”