From the breadth of his smile, she supposed that she had.
"Good. It's a date. Or, I guess, since we're not dating, it's a non-date."
"Absolutely," she said, with a perfectly straight face. "Non-date."
He took a step back toward the door. "About earlier, I know we said no promises."
"We did."
"And no commitments."
She nodded.
"I still didn't like it," he said. "Seeing you with another man."
She licked her lips, her pulse strong in her neck. "And I felt guilty when I saw you, which is crazy since I didn't do anything but hang out with a friend."
"You know, considering all of that, it really sounds like we're dating."
She lifted a shoulder, trying to appear casual when she felt anything but. "And sometimes generic tastes like the real thing. But it's not."
He studied her, then nodded slowly. "Fair enough." He bent forward and kissed her cheek. And as he did, he whispered to her. "Just keep in mind, sometimes, generic is better."
Chapter Eight
Considering he was thousands of miles away, Amanda managed to stay more in touch with Derek than she did with most of her friends. They sent text messages--including a few that probably qualified as sexts--talked on the phone, Skyped so they could see each other, and even exchanged a few emails.
Amanda told herself that this was all because they were working hard to find him a condo. He'd told her that if she found the right property, he'd close sight-unseen so long as she was happy with it. His trust had humbled her--and the potential commission had kept her working long hours.
After five weeks, though, she'd finally found the perfect place. A two-bedroom penthouse condo with a corner view of the river, a private deck and infinity pool, and security out the wazoo. As a bonus, the condo came furnished, and the previous owner had excellent taste. The contemporary-style furniture both accented the lines and angles of the glass and steel condo, and had the benefit of being comfortable.
Despite the contemporary design and decoration, the overall impression was of comfort. Bottom line, it felt like a home.
True to his word, he'd looked over the pictures, negotiated the price, and then asked her if he should pull the trigger. When she'd said yes, he'd made a cash offer, and seventeen days later they'd closed on the property. The owners were in Hawaii, the buyer in Prague, and the real estate agent in BookPeople, Austin's biggest independent bookstore, where she was buying up every magazine she thought might interest Derek so that she could make the place even more homey.
And, of course, she'd bought new sheets for the bed.
Now he was due back in Austin and she couldn't stop fussing. She'd paced the length and breadth of the condo at least nine times, checked on the congratulatory cake she had in the refrigerator, rearranged the flowers in the entry hall, and generally made herself crazy fussing and worrying.
Mostly, she was looking forward to seeing him.
Not to mention new sheets for the bed.
Finally, she heard ding from the security system that signaled someone accessing the elevator to the penthouse. She hurried to open the champagne, poured two glasses, and then parked herself in front of the door. A few moments later, the front door beeped with the code she'd texted him. She hurried to the door, then greeted him with the drink.
"This is fabulous," he said, his eyes only on her.
"You haven't even looked around."
He bent and kissed her. "I'm not talking about the condo."
She felt her cheeks flush, more pleased by his words than she ought to be. To hide her reaction, she lifted her glass. "To new homes."
"To new beginnings," he countered, his eyes never leaving hers as they took a sip.
"Um, you should change the code on the door," she said as she lead him toward the kitchen.
"Why? Who knows it?"