“Oh, you’re terrible. I’m going to change. Wait for me outside.”
I wiggled my eyebrows, tilting closer again. “Or... I can watch you change.”
Laney burst out laughing. “No, you can’t. Damn, and here I thought you were chivalrous and everything, looking after me... but you were just waiting for the right opportunity to take advantage of my susceptibility and corruptibility.”
“Always will,” I assured her.
“Good to know.” With a wink and a grin, she turned around.
I waited for Laney outside, taking advantage of that time to make calls for work. Riling up the team for a new project was one of my favorite things to do. Their enthusiasm was in part what drove me. Normally they didn’t work on Saturday, but we were on a tight deadline.
They were still reticent toward me after this intense week. I wasn’t an asshole by any means, but I hadn’t been approachable, and now I was riding their asses with the draconian schedule I’d set up. I couldn’t go easy on them in the early stages. We were close to the deadline for submitting our proposal for the Centenarian project.
“We’ve got strict deadlines on this, Perry.”
“Sure, boss.”
“Gene, get me the Centenarian budget update by this evening, please.”
“How about the graphics you asked me for yesterday?”
“Prioritize this.”
“Okay.” Her tone was clipped, but she didn’t contradict me. One of my main tasks as chief of operations was making sure that all parts moved in a coordinated way. That meant being ruthless with priorities.
Laney came out while I was still chatting with the team, but I immediately ended the call, pocketing the phone and whistling loudly.
“I was wrong, doc. You’re even hotter in this cute outfit.”
“I’m wearing a jacket, jeans, and riding boots,” she said skeptically.
The riding aspect of it was messing with my thoughts.
“Trust me” was all I said.
We went to a coffee shop near the hospital. The server led us all the way to the back, in a corner with a couch and a small table. We were the only ones in the back. On Saturdays, New Yorkers treated themselves to brunch, or at least late breakfast. It was eight thirty now.
“This is lovely,” she said, looking around. “So this is the first step in proper pampering?”
“Yes. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.” I took off her jacket, draping it on the side of the couch. I touched her cheeks with the back of my fingers, rubbing up and down lightly. “Thanks for looking out for Skye.” I’d told her that before, but it was worthy of repeating. I wanted her to know how much I appreciated it. Her breath caught when I cupped the back of her head, bringing her closer. I kissed her deep and wet. She tasted amazing. I could kiss her for hours, and it still wouldn’t be enough. This was just so fucking perfect. She whimpered, tugging at my hair, then at my shirt. I kissed down her neck before straightening up, speaking against her mouth.
“Laney, I know what we said in Rome. But I like you so much. Being with you, talking to you, just sitting on that couch, pouring you wine and giving you a foot massage. I can’t ignore this, and I don’t want to. Explore this with me.”
Laney’s eyes widened. She bit her lower lip, lowering her gaze to my shoulder. My gut clenched. “So, my job isn’t the only reason I was saying that.”
“Okay. You said something about baggage, I remember. Want to sit down?”
She nodded, pressing her lips in a tight line. I waited patiently, hand on her waist, knowing she wanted to say more.
“I was married for six months,” she whispered, and I felt like someone had just hit the back of my knees with a baseball bat. “My husband passed away from a heart attack two years ago. Since then, I’ve... I don’t know if I can...” She shook her head as if she was correcting herself. “I haven’t even been on a date or kissed anyone... until you.”
I nearly buckled under the weight of what she just said. I tightened my grip on her waist, searching for the right words.
Worry was etched on her beautiful face, but she still wasn’t looking at me. “Are you mad that I didn’t tell you before? I’m sorry. It’s not a secret or anything, it’s... not something that naturally comes up, and talking about it makes me sad.”
“I’m not mad at you,” I reassured her, skimming my hands up to cup her face, looking her straight in the eyes. That deep sadness there slayed me. Fuck, I wanted to erase that, to drive it away from her eyes, her heart, her mind.
I wasn’t mad, but I did feel a bit left out. I knew how irrational that was. We’d just been having fun in Rome, why should she share something so deeply personal? But I was happy she was opening up now.