Page 15 of The Accidental Dating Experiment
She sighs in contentment. “I’m totally breaking this in tonight. Apparently, I get to mark something off my to-do list that I didn’t even know was on it.”
Don’t think of her breaking in a bed, I tell my brain. Don’t you dare think of that.
“Sleep in an adult-size bunk bed with mirrored ceilings. Yeehaw!”
Her excitement is infectious but far too distracting. I push up. I really shouldn’t be in bed with her. Working with her on the podcast is manageable, partly because neither of us talk about that summer long ago. Why would we? It was just one week, and we both moved on. Partly, too, because I was fresh off my divorce when I joined the podcast crew, and I was far too prickly to wander down memory lane.
Then, we found a new normal—working together, goading each other, and now, evidently, testing mirrored bunk beds together.
Ducking my head, I get out of the bed. “Then, the main bedroom is yours,” I say. Such a generous soul I am. “I’ll sleep in the guest room.”
Wherever that is.
“But let’s check out the closet before we see the rest of the home,” I say, recentering on our kick-the-tires-on-this-house mission. We need to see what we’re dealing with in terms of furnishings and stuff.
As she pops up from the bed, I turn toward the door that must lead to the walk-in closet and yank it open. “Holy shit.”
“What is it?” Juliet asks, joining me with a gasp. “Wow. It’s like a costume shop. This must be the singer side of her. I bet she sang cabaret before she did that Christmas album.”
“I bet you’re right.”
“Look at all the gowns and dresses and glittery things.”
She strides right in like she owns the place. Well, she does. But damn, her go-getter-ness makes blood rush faster to all parts of my body. I take in the plethora of satin and sequins, feathers and beads.
In a corner, there’s a hat rack that holds dozens of feather boas in precious jewel colors. Juliet snatches a ruby-red one and tosses it around her neck.
She spins around, juts out a hip, and says, “Why don’t you come up and see me sometime?”
Then, with her lips tilting up in a sensual smile, she simply waits for my answer—waits and lets her hand graze down her chest.
Is she aware of how enticing that move is?
I answer her with a husky, “Yes.”
Yes, she’s sexy. Yes, she’s sunshine. She’s funny and witty, and she takes zero shit from me. And, yes, once upon a brief time, she was mine.
I’ve handled that in the city, even working with her. Now that we’re out of town, I need to do a much better job of managing this…lust.
Yes, that’s it.
It’s basic, simple lust. I can handle lust.
“All right,” I say. “We’ve got mirrored bunk beds, feather boas, and costumes, and we haven’t even gotten past the main bedroom. What else do you suppose we have?”
At least finding out gives me an excuse to get the hell out of the danger zone without looking like I’m running away.
Twenty minutes later, my head is spinning. I didn’t know a house could be this sultry. But this one vibrates and hums with pheromones. From the sitting room with the satin chaise lounges and wet bar to the den with the vintage oak desk and black-and-white photos of Hollywood legends in their sexiest poses, everything about this home whispers, Let’s go to bed.
It’s like the home is a goddamn aphrodisiac. I tug on my shirt as I go from room to room, getting hot under the collar. I tap notes into my cell phone—Things to Take Care Of. A few of the rooms need a new coat of paint. You can’t sell a home with burgundy, cherry, and fuchsia walls. The kitchen’s in good shape, but it’s next-level cluttered.
We’ve been through almost the whole home. All that’s left is the second bedroom, at the end of a hallway, and I stalk forward to claim it. I’m going to need some serious distance from Juliet in those mirrored bunk beds, looking sleepy and sexy as she drifts off.
I tug the door open and groan.
Fuck me. It’s unfurnished. Not a single thing is in the room.
Juliet comes up right behind me. “Oh. That’s odd. There’s so much stuff everywhere else.”