Just a Taste (Private Relations 1)

“Yeah, I’ve got a job to prep for. Fundraiser luncheon. Tiny fucking sandwiches. I hate making them.”

“Hmm. Thursday?”

“Mercifully, I’ve got the day off.”

“Can I have it, after 5:00 p.m?”

“Have what? My day off?”

“Yeah.”

Nodding, Sara drowsily said, “Sure.”

Standing up again, she wrapped her arms around a fully dressed Deacon and walked with him to the door.

Giving him a kiss good-bye, she smiled at the way their lips clung together, then said, “Good luck with the Wellington people. See you later.”

Smirking, he said, “Your tiny fucking sandwiches will put me over the top.”

Narrowing her eyes, she said, “Weren’t you going home?”

Laughing, he gave her a last squeeze, then walked to his car.

Locking the door, Sara stumbled back to bed and slept another two hours.

Chapter 14

It was just before six on Monday morning, and he lay in Sara’s bed, awake before the alarm. He’d gone over to Sara’s early afternoon on Sunday. They’d decided to walk around Old Town Pasadena. They grabbed a late lunch, then wandered through the museum. It had been a nice day, just spending time with her. No real urgency, nothing pressing. He had just really enjoyed her company.

After they were done at the museum, they stopped by the grocery store and grabbed food for dinner. He smirked as he thought about the mutinous look she gave him when he tried to pay.

She’d

gotten a pork loin, made couscous, and a quick salad. The pork loin had some kind of herb walnut crust on it. She’d made the salad dressing from scratch. It was all amazing. He figured he’d be lucky anytime she decided to cook.

They had cleaned up the kitchen, then decided to lie on the couch and just watch TV. They’d been snuggled up, but he must have dozed off. When he woke up his head had been lying in her lap. She’d been idly running her hand through his hair while flipping channels aimlessly.

When he shifted, she looked down and saw he had woken up. She gave him an apologetic look and told him he looked so peaceful, she’d felt bad for waking him up. His brain still fuzzy, he’d taken the hand that had been stroking through his hair, and kissed it. Then he’d set it on his chest, and held it there, gazing at her.

Feeling that unfamiliar pang in his chest when he thought about it still, he smiled.

God, he really didn’t want to go to New York. Sliding out of bed, he flipped off the alarm, then made his way toward Sara’s bathroom, grabbing the toiletries out of his overnight bag.

Turning on Sara’s shower, he brushed his teeth then moved the curtain on the linen closet and grabbed a towel. After taking a quick shower, he wrapped the towel around his waist and packed his toiletry bag up. Making a mental note, he decided he was going to get a few items to leave here at Sara’s.

Stepping out of the bathroom, he saw Sara was now awake, watching him intently.

“Morning,” she said, smiling.

Moving forward to the bed, he leaned down and brushed his lips against hers.

“Morning. Hope I didn’t wake you up.”

Sara’s arm had snaked its way around his thigh. Shaking her head, she said, “No. I don’t think it was you.”

Sara slid her arm up his thigh, nails dragging lightly.

Deacon felt his body respond and said, “Sara…”