Fool for Love (Believe #2) (6 page)

“Hi,” she greets me. I take in the smile on her lips. It’s unsure, timid, unexpected, and very unlike the confidence she showed me when we met.

I raise my chin at her but remain silent. I know I should act like the sociable host, but the way she unnerves me by her mere presence leaves me tongue-tied.

She takes off her coat and hangs it up on the peg behind the door before walking closer to me.

“I wasn’t sure you’d be here when I got back,” she says as she sits down opposite me on the couch.

“I’ll be leaving soon,” I answer curtly.

“Oh,” she mumbles and sits back. Her entire body seems tense, but then she notices the book in my hand and a smile breaks out on her face.

“I hope you don’t mind that I’ve made good use of your library?” she asks me. The friendliness in her eyes shining back at me makes me less wary.

I relax a bit and then look down at the book in my hand –
‘Hornet Flight’
by Ken Follett.

I meet her eyes again as I shake my head.

“Of course not. So you like books?”

She nods enthusiastically.

“Oh, yes, I do, though I’m mostly into romance novels.”

Frowning, I nod, and we fall quiet again.

“Did you manage to get in touch with your friend about staying there instead of at the hotel?”

“Yes, but he doesn’t have a room available for me like I’d thought. I’m guessing that I’ll just have to stay at the hotel for a while”.

We sit in awkward silence for a long time, looking anywhere else but each other. I berate myself for being unable to put on the polite show I’m so used to at my restaurant.

It must be the hangover. It can’t possibly be because of
her
.

I’m usually comfortable with silence, but this one is hard to take.

For fuck’s sake, man, get a grip!

“Listen,” Suzy suddenly stands and crosses her arms in front of her. “This is ridiculous. I’ll sleep on the pull-out couch for the rest of my stay, and you’ll get your bed back.”

I don’t like this plan.

“That doesn’t seem right.” I stand up and take a step closer. I try to relax, but I’m coiled so tight that it’s impossible. All I can think about is what it would be like to have her submit to me, which is so fucked up.

“Why not? This is your home, after all.” There’s a spark of defiance in her eyes, and I have to admit that I prefer seeing her like this instead of the shy mouse I just encountered. I may want my women to submit to me sexually, but not all the time, and definitely not this one. Probably because there’s no way in hell I’ll ever let that happen.

Not until hell freezes over, anyway.

However, I have to say that I’m curious to find out how stubborn she’ll be for pressing this matter, and it makes me eager to push her buttons for some fucked up reason. It’s a heady feeling – and a surprising one.

For fifteen years, I have felt dead inside; yet, it has only taken this young woman a few hours to make me feel anything remotely resembling life. My heart is hammering away in my chest, and anticipation is running through my blood.

Suzy intrigues me. While I refuse to succumb to my needs with her, I can at least try to become her friend and watch out for her for the next few months.

I can be her friend, can’t I?

“Okay,” I sigh and force my body to relax. “I’m not letting you sleep on the pull-out.”

“But –”

“Not. Going. To. Happen,” I interrupt her, my voice brooking no arguments. She must see that I’m not backing off on this, because she nods slowly and her arms fall down to her side.

I bite my tongue before praising her for her acquiescing.

“Good. Now, secondly…” I pause as her body tenses up again, and I can’t quite understand why I feel nervous all of a sudden. “How do you feel about dogs?” I ask her.

She blinks, confusion clear as day in her eyes. “Dogs?”

G
ARRETT’S QUESTION THROWS ME
for a minute.

I love dogs even though I’ve never had one, and I smile brightly at him.

“I adore them!”

He chuckles, a deep rumble resounding from his chest, and I have to work hard not to swoon at his feet then and there. His cold eyes now hold some warmth in them, and the tension in my shoulders slowly ebbs.

Damn. He just
has
to have a dog, doesn’t he?

“Good. Because I have one, a brown Labrador, and I’m picking him up from my friend’s place tomorrow,” he says, walking past me when the doorbell rings.

“It must be my bags,” he mumbles.

I’m slowly becoming more at ease while in Garrett’s presence, even though I only just met him this afternoon – I mean, a dog lover can’t be that bad.

I walk leisurely to the kitchen to get a bottle of water from the fridge.

While Garrett talks to the guy from the airport, I watch him from the corner of my eye. My curiosity is piqued, and I want to get to know him better. Safiro was a fountain of information as usual, but the way the tabloids write about the recluse that is otherwise known as the renowned Italian cook, Garrett Thompson, doesn’t really seem to fit the man in front of me. While he’s still virtually a stranger, I haven’t seen the confident player that he’s made out to be – that is, when he ever finds the chance to get out of his restaurant downtown.

Mysterious. Interesting. Kind of the way I like them.

I snort when that thought enters my mind. Garrett and I will never happen. For one thing, I’ll be leaving New York in a few months; and for another, he’s a lot older than me. Somehow, I doubt the lines in the corners of his eyes are laugh lines; I can see it now that his hair is pulled away from his face –
hello, man bun!
– and I’d be a downright fool to get involved with him.

Still…we can become friends. I think. It would be particularly nice if that was possible seeing as I have to live with the guy for the next long while.

Dang it, I wish I could phone Emma now. At least then I’d be able to tell
someone
what I saw Garrett do earlier this afternoon. As I think back on walking in on him rubbing himself, I get warm all over, and I admonish my always present libido for not letting me off easily today. One would think that I’d had enough to last me a while after Morgan stayed the night, but – apparently not.

“Just a couple of rules.” Garrett’s voice pulls me back to the present, and I turn around as I hear him come closer.

“Yes?” I ask him. I try not to drool too much when I see the way his biceps bulge from carrying his heavy bags.

Focus, Suzy!

“Okay,” he starts and drops the bags near his walk-in closet. “First of all, we have to share the bathroom, so I hope you’re not one of those women who leaves a mess wherever you go. I can’t stand clutter.” He looks so serious, his mouth drawn down, and his voice holds a hint of annoyance.

I frown at him, but nod. “I’m not.”

He narrows his eyes at me. “Good.”

“And what’re the other rules you have?” I ask him when he continues to stare at me, a thoughtful look in his eyes. My throat feels parched, and I take another long sip of water.

“Just that we take turns cleaning the place
properly
every week, and that you let me know whenever your girlfriend plans to come over during the day. I’ll make myself scarce.”

“Hang on,” I interrupt him. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Oh? Sorry, my mistake.”

I shake my head. “No, I don’t. Morgan and I…we have an
understanding
.”

He remains quiet for a while, and the coldness has returned to his eyes. I don’t know why, but I hate seeing it there.

The silence draws out, and I’m not feeling so relaxed anymore.

“You see,” I start to blabber, twisting the cap on the bottle over and over again. “I’m single, and kind of confused about many things at the moment, and Morgan and I meet up from time to time, because we like sex, and we like each other, obviously, but we’re both bi and in need of – oh, god.
Why
am I telling you all this?” I start to pace back and forth, completely mortified at my outburst.

“I haven’t the faintest idea,” he replies drily. I chance a quick glance at him. He’s stock still, hands fisted at his sides, and I shrug as I try to mask my embarrassment.

“Well, I’m not ashamed of who I am, but sorry if it made you feel uncomfortable.” There’s a sinking feeling in my stomach. I’m afraid that if he’s one of those bigoted people I’ve met so many times over the years, I’m not sure I’ll be able to live with him.

I won’t hide who I am like I used to do back home. The very thought sickens me.

“Look, Suzy, it doesn’t matter to me whether you’re straight or bi, okay?” he mutters. I stop my pacing. “It’s your life. All I ask is that you let me know if you want to bring someone home if I’ve not already left for work. Can you do that?”

“Of course.” I stop pacing and face him once more. “That’s what roommates do, right?” I smile at him, yet remain unsure if he’s weirded out about my outburst. He doesn’t smile back, but at least he uncurls his fists and relaxes his stance once more.

“Good.” He picks up his bags and turns to the walk-in closet. “I’m going to unpack now, and then I’m going to the grocery store; I’ll fix us something to eat when I get back.”

He disappears from my view and I take a couple of steps to follow him, but then stop. I don’t want to disturb him.

“You don’t have to do that,” I call out to him.

“I’m a cook,” he yells back. “It’s what I do. End of discussion.” His tone of voice brooks no argument.

“Okie-dokie,” I whisper back.

Now what? I turn away and face the bar where I’ve left the newspaper Safiro gave me earlier. I straighten my back and walk closer to pick it up, close to dragging my feet.

While pole dancing is definitely out, I need a job, and fast, so I might as well spend some time going through the other available positions. I haven’t been able to find a job online that suits me so I might as well try the old-fashioned way.

Sighing, I grab a pen from my bag resting on the countertop, and then sit down; I open the first page, determined to get this task over and done with as soon as possible.

Someone out there must be in need of a new employee, right?