“You have Baileys and hot chocolate?” she asks, stunned.
“Yes, why is that so shocking to you?”
She’s still wearing my jacket, casually walking around my apartment. “I just pictured you as, I don’t know . . . someone who might lean more toward a dark stout or maybe a whiskey than a hot chocolate and Baileys.”
“I’m not the cold man you think I am,” I say while making my way to my open-concept kitchen that looks over the entire main living space of the apartment.
“I don’t think you’re cold,” Penny says while following me. She takes a seat on one of the stools at the island. “I just had a different impression of you is all.”
“Maybe you should start to get to know your players a little better,” I say while I start heating up some milk. “Might help with what you post.”
“And how do you envision me getting to know the players better?” I turn to see that she has one eyebrow raised at me.
I chuckle. “Well, with me, I say an evening here would be the best way. But with the other guys, a solid questionnaire will do.”
“Uh-huh. And why an evening with you?”
“I’m complex. The other guys are superficial. But with me, you really have to dive deep. The more time spent with me, the better. I’m up for an all-nighter if you are.”
She shakes her head with humor. “Wow, you never stop, do you?”
“Stop what?” I ask innocently. “I’m just trying to help you do your job better.”
“Well, aren’t you a benevolent knight in shining armor?”
“I’ve been known to be called that before.” I wink and then grab two mugs from my cabinet . . . and I wait for a reaction . . .
“What on earth are those?” Penny asks. Just as I expected.
I hold the mugs up. “These are my bosom buddies. Taters got them for me one year as a Secret Santa gift.” I flash the mugs of a bare chest, one set of dark nipples, one set of light. Both beautiful. Both doing the job of holding hot liquid. “And before you refuse to drink from a pair of breasts, let it be known that these are the only mugs I have.”
“You know, I take back my comment about your sophisticated side. This”—she waves at the mugs—“this is what I expected from you.”
“Glad I didn’t disappoint,” I say. She shivers and pulls my jacket closer together. “Do you want to borrow a sweatshirt? Maybe some pants? Get yourself warm?”
She shakes her head. “No, I’ll just go sit by the fire if that’s okay.”
“That’s fine. I’ll be right over.”
When she hops off the stool, I watch her walk over to the living room, where she takes a seat on the blanket I laid out. She removes my jacket and rests it across her lap as she scoots even closer to the fire. Her face is lit up by the flames, and I catch her profile—the plush of her lips and the gentle slope of her nose. She’s beautiful. She really is.
Not that I had doubts, but her personality matches her beauty. The joking, the quick wit, the teasing . . . hell, she’s the whole package, something I’ve only discovered as she’s loosened up around me tonight. Perhaps I’ve only concentrated on the surface level with her too. Although, learning more about her tonight has only intensified my attraction to her.
Once I finish up with the hot chocolates, adding a touch of Baileys, but not too much, I take them over to the blanket, where I set them on the coffee table right in front of the fire. I undo my vest and toss it to the side, giving myself more freedom in my movements since I like to get my suits tailored to fit me like a glove.
Reaching out, I hand her a mug, which she reluctantly takes with a shake of her head. “Thank you . . . for these breasts, and for the hot chocolate.”
“You are welcome,” I say while picking up my mug. I rub the nipples of my mug a few times and glance up at her.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“This is all the action I’m getting tonight, so I might as well enjoy it.” I pinch the nipple and let out a ridiculous moan that makes her laugh so loud that I mentally pat myself on the back for pulling that joy from her.
“I absolutely hate you for doing that.”
“Nah, you love it.” I hand her the fork and pop open the bakery box to reveal the pie. Topped in whipped cream and chocolate flakes, the crust is a light-blond cookie crust, and just from the mere sight of it, my mouth waters. “Shit, I’m not sure you’re going to like what you see next.”