“No, smartass.” Folding my arms over my chest, I roll my eyes. “That was Hunter and Anthony.” Her laughter just gets louder.
“I can’t breathe.” She throws her head back and holds her stomach while she laughs.
“Anyway. One day, he showed up, and well, I had trouble forming two words together.” I think back to the first time we met. I stepped off the private plane, and he was waiting there for me. Standing there leaning back on his black Audi, he was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. His arms crossed over his chest, his black watch on his wrist making him even more sexy. His hair was blowing a bit in the wind, and his aviator glasses blocked out what he was looking at. I walked down the steps, and my mouth went dry as soon as I saw him up close. His cheekbones were defined, his lips perfect. “I walked off the plane, and all he said were two words, ‘You Kellie?’”
“And what?” She shakes her head.
“And nothing. I nodded, and he opened the back door for me, and I got in. The disguise was on the seat, so I put on the black wig and baseball hat while he got in the car. He didn’t say a word to me while he drove me to Steve’s.”
“I’m waiting for the juicy stuff.” She leans back on the stool.
“There is no juicy part. He was there the next few times, and slowly, we started talking. Or it was mostly me asking him questions and him giving one-word answers.”
“But I thought you broke up with Steve a month in?”
“I did, but I would make excuses to go over there, hoping Brian would be working. The last time, I kept him driving around for five hours making excuses, and then I just gave up.”
“Did he know?” she asks me. “I mean, sometimes men can be oblivious if a woman is throwing themselves at them.”
“I think when a woman says, ‘why don’t we go out sometime’ and the man just looks over at you and says nothing, it’s safe to say he knows, and he’s not interested.”
“But he looks at you like he’s about to eat his forbidden fruit.” She gets up, going to the oven and opening it to make sure it is on. “And when Tommy grabbed your hand, the vein in his forehead started bulging.”
“You’re wrong.” I don’t give myself the hope that he might be interested. “I’m his job. He won’t cross that line.” She doesn’t have a chance to answer because the doorbell rings.
“Good timing,” Cori says. Walking to the door, she returns with Ruth, my trainer. “Look who is here.”
I groan when I see her face and the huge smile she’s wearing. “I thought I killed you this morning.” She shakes her head. “Guess not. Go get changed.”
“Great,” I say, walking to my indoor gym. I have windows all on the sides so the sun can come in. The floor is half wood, half foam. I have everything you could have at a gym, even a punching bag. Televisions are set up in two of the corners so I can always see it. I walk to the corner and grab my yoga pants and gym top. Going into the bathroom, I change into my clothes and then walk back into the kitchen as I’m tying my hair on top of my head. “Can we do it outside?”
“Sure,” Ruth answers right away. “Let me get some things, and I’ll meet you out there.”
I grab two water bottles and head out. She pushes me for the next hour, and this time, I really think I’m having a heart attack. When I walk back into the house, Cori is set up at the island with papers everywhere, so I rush up the steps to my bedroom. My bedroom occupies the whole right side of the upstairs, split into two areas. I walk into the double doors that lead to the sitting area, and my feet sink into the plush carpet. I kick off my sneakers. The plush dark brown sofa sits against the wall, facing the wall with the see-through fireplace. Huge floor-to-ceiling windows slide open, and you can step out onto the covered balcony that overlooks the valley and is so peaceful at night. I walk through the arched walkway into the bedroom that has my California king-size bed in the middle of the room. Deciding to splurge on the best bedding I could buy, I wanted sheets as soft as silk, and a duvet cover filled and fluffy like a cloud, and I got it. I turn toward the bathroom, undressing and tossing my clothes into the laundry basket at the side of the front door.
My bathroom has the same marble as the floor downstairs. A makeup vanity between two sinks lines the whole wall. The other side of the room is a separate shower and a bath. Opening the glass shower door, I turn the water on, then grab two white towels from the closet. My shower is a quick five minutes since I don’t have to wash my hair. Wrapping a towel around myself, I head to my walk-in closet. Two walls in this room contain my clothes, from tops to pants to skirts, all separated by color. The other two walls have shelves with my shoes, also sorted by color and style. My white and gold island has drawers for my jewelry and accessories. A huge vase of pink roses sits in the middle, and a classic chandelier hangs over it. After changing into loose joggers and an off-the-shoulder sweater, I walk downstairs, hearing voices and laughter as I approach. I walk into the kitchen, and I stop in my tracks.