"Shit. It's work. I have to take this," I said.
Corsica sprang up from the bed and headed to the door. "You're right. We should stick to business."
Chapter Twelve
Penn
I leaned on the counter and listened to the bacon sizzle. My coffee was cool, but I still sipped at it as I tried not to watch the door. I shifted and paced the length of the kitchen.
Cooking wasn't really my thing, and breakfast had never been more than a granola bar. I walked back and jabbed at the bacon, telling myself it was just normal insomnia. It had nothing to do with Corsica storming out of my room.
She had been there, laid out across my bed, and the image of that had tortured me all night long.
I cracked eggs into the pan and scrambled them. Why not make toast, too? It was something to do since I couldn't sleep. I thought of all the mornings I had lounged around in bed reading the news and wondered if I would ever get back there.
Corsica was a morning person. Her door opened at almost the same early hour every morning, and she went straight out the front door on a run. Then she came back smelling of salt air and the delicious musk of her own sweat.
My mouth watered as I dumped the bacon and eggs on a plate and ignored them. All I was doing was waiting for Corsica, and admitting it twisted something in my gut.
"Wow, it smells fantastic in here," she said, bursting in the front door.
"Go ahead, I'm not really hungry," I said.
"Up late working?" Corsica asked with a cool lift of her eyebrow. She snagged a piece of bacon off my plate and crunched it. "I didn't take you as an early riser."
Her hair was damp with sweat at the temples, her cheeks bright and warm, but her body was loose and relaxed. I kneaded at my own tight neck and felt the knot in my stomach cinch. Corsica was irresistible. She crunched the bacon and frowned as she fiddled with her pedometer, and I wanted to press my lips to the faint crease in her forehead.
"Need a hand?" I stepped around the kitchen island and cornered her between two stools.
Corsica's nostrils flared, but she held out the device. "I like tracking the mileage, but somehow I lost today's run."
I took my time working through the menu and screens. The data was easy to retrieve, but I couldn't pry myself away from the warm sheen of her skin. "Here it is."
"Thanks," Corsica took her pedometer and moved to scoot around me.
I ignored her hint. "I never understood running."
Her soft lips frowned. "What's not to understand? It's a great workout with minimal equipment. And you burn the most calories in a short amount of time."
"Sure, sure, it's practical. Are you really always so practical?" I caught her eyes.
Corsica tossed her hair. "As if you don't work out."
I liked the way she eyed my arm muscles, but when her gaze raked across my abs, the knot inside me burned. "I just like to have fun when I do it. There are plenty of fun ways to burn more calories than running."
"I don't have time for anything but running," Corsica said. She pushed past me and grabbed another piece of bacon. "My letters of recommendation came in. I have to polish up my resume and make sure my cover letter puts me on the top of the pile. I've got to send it in this morning."
I flipped my fork into my hand and picked at the scrambled eggs. "So, you're not going to the audition?"
Corsica's eyes narrowed. "What audition?"
"Check your phone. I called the resort and booked you an audition. Bill got in touch with that trumpet player, and he'll be there too. Just in case you inspire him to put his trio back together."
Her cool facade burned off like morning fog. Corsica bounced back to the kitchen island and leaned across it. "You can't be serious."
"What if I told you that was the phone call I took last night?"
Corsica studied me. "Liar. Nice try, though."