“Definitely not,” I retort with a smile. “I was just feeling a little anxious and wanted to calm down.”
He aims a questioning glance at me. “Anxious about what, sweetheart?”
I shrug, doing my best to look nonchalant. “Nothing in particular,” I say, trying to quickly come up with an excuse. “I think I’m just nervous about the status of the shelter on East Sixth Street. With winter coming up, they’ll really need coats, gloves and hats, especially for the kids.”
Tate pours himself a glass of wine, and says casually, “Then I’ll donate ten thousand dollars for supplies and anything else you want. Do you think that will help?”
I stare at him. “Um yes. That will help.”
But I continue to stare at him with wonder. I’m not a charitable man, Tate said to me once, but obviously, that’s not true at all. Could it be that I’ve changed his mind? Could it be that he cares, really cares, about what’s important to me?
“Thank you,” I say quietly. “The children and adults will appreciate it.”
He turns and drops a kiss on my shoulder. “Anything for you, sweetheart.”
We stare at each other for a moment, and it’s incredibly intimate. My heart pounds in my chest. Could he be feeling what I’m feeling?
But then the moment ends, and Tate takes a sip of my wine. “We closed a huge deal today, so I called it quits early. I could use some celebratory TLC. If you’re game, that is.”
I giggle and toss my hair flirtatiously. “I think I can help with that.”
“I know you can,” he growls, looking at me hungrily. Then, he shakes his head and says, “Actually, I had an idea for us today.”
I pause, surprised. Usually, nothing can stop the alpha male when he wants to sample my curves, so this is new.
“Oh?”
“Have you been to the pool yet?” he asks.
I blink. “There’s a pool?”
Tate laughs. “You haven’t explored the basement yet, have you?”
“There’s a pool in the basement? Of this townhouse?”
He takes me by the shoulders, turns me around, and ushers me gently toward the stairs. “Go get changed. We bought you a swimsuit at that boutique last week, right? It’s perfect because now, you’re getting wet, baby girl.”
With a giggle, I prance off while wiggling my hips. This man really is my Prince Charming because Tate Connor is gorgeous, generous, and always full of surprises.
7
Tate
* * *
I’m a sucker for a woman in a tiny bikini. After all, there’s something about swimsuits that can be even more erotic than high-quality lingerie. Maybe it’s the fact that that bikinis are designed to be worn in a public setting, or that the fabric gets wet and clingy. Or maybe it’s the fact that it’s Laurie in the bikini because when she comes downstairs in her all-white ensemble, my jaw drops to the ground and I immediately begin to stiffen.
I’ve seen her nude and lush plenty of times now, seeing that she sleeps in my bed. But the white of the bikini highlights the creaminess of her skin and makes her long blonde hair look almost silver, cascading over one elegant shoulder. Plus, my girl is tall and slender and walks like she’s on a runway, confidently and unapologetically. But one part of her is definitely very un-model-like, and that’s her breasts. My woman has huge, luscious Double Ds, and I often fall asleep with my head nestled between those soft pillows of goodness.
Goddamn, I think to myself. The redhead of a few months ago is barely even a memory at this point. In fact, all the women in my past are becoming blurry, almost as if they never existed. Instead, my mind, my home, and my bed are only full of Laurie.
I warned her at the beginning of our arrangement to not develop feelings, but it seems like I’m the one in danger now. Who knew? I’m not a heartless man, of course. I’ve had plenty of no-strings-attached flings before that have developed into warm friendships full of affection and mutual trust. I’ve even been in love a time or two, although compared with Laurie, those were just expressions of youthful infatuation. But now? I don’t even know what to think.
On the surface, we would be a good match. She’s beautiful, charming, funny, and intelligent. She’s knowledgeable about a great deal of subjects and holds her own in a conversation, instead of floundering like a dead fish like some other women I’ve known. Even more, Laurie is compassionate with a good heart, and still goes back to the park to check on her friends who congregate there, even though she could have easily forgotten about them. Everything about her is perfect, full stop.
But do I really know anything about Laurie?
As we’ve gotten closer, she’s revealed some snippets of her life. I know that she had an asshole of a father and a saint of a mother, and that she had an older brother who passed away at some point. I know that she had a “okay” childhood and went to art school as a young adult. She also had a pet dog named Sammy as a kid, and her favorite color is burgundy. I also know that she loves helping the homeless, and eats an entire pack of Oreos in one sitting if given the chance.