All the Way (Romancing Manhattan 1)

I gingerly pull out of her and fall to her side, tugging her against me as we try to catch our breath. My eyes are heavy. I want to slide into a deep, satisfied sleep, but London shifts next to me and props her head on her hand, her hair falling around us both.

“Are you tired?” she asks.

“Aren’t you?”

She just shrugs, which is womanspeak for no. She’s back to thinking about the storm.

“I think it’s calming down out there,” I assure her, and cup her face, rubbing her cheek with my thumb.

“Maybe.”

“It’s almost time for the sun to come up.” She leans in and kisses me sweetly. “Does this mean we aren’t going back to sleep tonight?”

“I’m sorry,” she says.

“No need to be sorry.” I stand from the bed and pull on some sweatpants and a T-shirt, and rummage in my drawer for a clean tee and shorts with a drawstring for London, then pass them to her. “These might work.”

“Thanks.” She wiggles into them, and makes me laugh. “I look homeless.”

“You don’t look homeless.” I take her hand and lead her downstairs. “You look like you’re wearing your lover’s clothes because yours are dirty.”

“Well then, it’s an accurate look.”

I lead us through the kitchen and to the breakfast nook that looks out at the ocean. The table is small, but the chairs are deep and comfortable. I get London settled in a chair, then run to the TV room to grab a throw blanket and drape it over her.

“You’re spoiling me,” she says with a smile, holding the blanket close to her. “And I kind of like it.”

“Good. I’m going to make you coffee.”

“Having you around is handy,” she says, and smiles when I turn away, shuffling into the kitchen. When the coffees are made, and I’ve toasted some bagels and set some jam and cream cheese on the tray, I walk back to the table and set it out. She’s quietly watching the horizon, worrying her bottom lip in her teeth.

“The storm has passed.” I sit and offer her the coffee, which she gratefully accepts.

“And the sunrise is gorgeous,” she adds. “My dad and I would do this when I was young. Sit out after a storm to watch the sunrise.”

“That’s a nice storm memory.”

“You’ve given me more,” she says, glancing at me when she reaches for a bagel and cream cheese. “Thank you for that.”

“Making love with you is never a chore,” I reply, causing her to smirk.

“I should hope not. But you’ve given me another happy storm memory, and I am grateful.” She takes a bite. “Look at that water.”

“It’s amazing to me that the wind can be gone, and the rain has passed, and yet the water is still so churned up.”

“It brings so many interesting things to shore,” she says, her eyes almost excited now.

“Why do I think that we’re about to go on an early-morning beachcombing mission?”

“Because we are.” She takes a sip of her coffee and sits back in her chair, her legs tucked up against her chest again. “But first I want to sit here, in this comfortable chair, with this comfortable man, and enjoy the view.”

“First you call me nice and now you call me comfortable. You’re not great for a man’s ego.”

“Something tells me you don’t need me to stroke your ego, Finn Cavanaugh,” she replies, watching me over the rim of her mug. “And you know what else is awesome?”

“What?”

“I can sit with my knees up. Finally. Without it killing my leg.”

“You’re healing, London. That’s amazing.”

“I didn’t know if I ever would, and I don’t just mean my leg, you know. But I’m feeling better. Like there might be hope at the end of this long road.”

“What else is at the end of it?”

“Normalcy. Work, if I’m lucky.”

“And?”

“Well, it’s convenient that we live in the same city, because I’d like to continue to have you in my life after we leave here.”

“We’re on the same page there.”

“Good.” She smiles and takes a bite of her bagel. “Let’s go look for cool shit on the beach, as soon as I finish eating this.”

“Sounds like an excellent plan.”

Chapter Seven

~London~

“So, let me get this straight,” Sasha says several hours later, after I’ve gone home to shower and freshen up. “You’re having an affair with your dad’s estate attorney?”

“That makes it sound . . . shady,” I reply, and wrinkle my nose. I pour myself some iced tea and sit on the sun porch. “I mean, yeah, he handled the estate, but he’s also the neighbor.”

“Okay, and he’s hot?”

“So hot,” I confirm. “And he’s so nice.”

“Run. Nice guys don’t really exist. They pretend to be nice until they get you hooked, and then the real guy comes out and it’s all bullshit.”

“I don’t know, I think this might be the unicorn guy. He’s not late when he says he’s going to be somewhere, he has a work ethic, loves his family. Oh, and last night when I was freaking out about the storm, he totally calmed me down and we had super-sexy sex to get my mind off of it.”