“It’s been a long day. Why don’t we put on some music and open a bottle of wine?” I grin and rub my stomach, knowing damn well I’ve got her undivided attention. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”
“Sounds good.” She gives a slow nod, like I might be trying to get one over on her. “Since this is a business dinner, you should probably grab a shirt first.”
“Is this a business dinner?” I challenge, quirking a brow.
She swallows, throat bobbing delicately. “Yes.”
The reply is practically a squeak, but if she wants to think of this as a business dinner, it’s fine by me. I know the truth. It’s written all over her face. She’s as hot for me as I am for her.
But will she act on it?
I back out of the office and return to my bedroom, grabbing a white T-shirt from the dresser. It’s pretty casual, but what the hell. Scarlett’s wearing a sweatshirt, and I don’t want to make her uncomfortable by overdressing for Chinese takeout.
When I make my way back to the kitchen where I dropped the delivery bag, she’s standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out at the city.
“You’ve got a beautiful view,” she says, turning to flash me a wistful smile.
Indeed I do.
I smile in return and grab a remote off the island. I power up the sound system, setting it to indie rock. “It’s one of the reasons I bought this place.”
“What were the other reasons?” She throws up a hand to stop me before I can answer. “No, wait. Let me guess.” She taps her chin thoughtfully, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she pretends to think about it. “Resale value? Luxurious amenities? A prestigious address for entertaining?”
I select a bottle of wine from the cooler and place it on the counter. “I think we both know I’m not an entertainer.”
She sighs and moves into the kitchen, propping a hip against the marble counter. “It’s a shame, really.” She jerks her chin toward the balcony. “A view like that is meant to be shared.”
“I’m sharing it with you, aren’t I?”
“Only because you needed help with Oreo.” She laughs quietly. “Totally worth it, though. I’ve never seen the city from this vantage point.”
“The view from the rooftop terrace is even better.” The moment the words are out of my mouth, I want to kick myself for sounding like the entitled prick she once accused me of being.
Still, there’s a tiny part of me—the part that remembers growing up broke as a stick horse—that wants her to be impressed.
“Terrace?” she echoes, eyes growing round. “You have that incredible balconyanda rooftop terrace?”
Embarrassed by my own not-so-humble brag, I shrug and grab two plates from the cabinet, placing them side by side on the counter before turning to dig through the utensil drawer for a corkscrew. It’s wedged in the back, and it takes far longer to find than it should.
Did you expect it to be front and center? It’s not like you ever use it.
Hell, the last time I opened a bottle of wine was probably before Ashley moved out. I’m not one to drink alone, and there hasn’t been another woman in the condo since she left.
“First the bathtub, now a rooftop terrace?” Scarlett mutters, a frown tugging at the corner of her mouth. “The universe really is a dick.”
“What’s this about a dick?” I ask, twisting the corkscrew into the top of the wine bottle.
“Nothing.” Her voice has gone pitchy, a sure sign this conversation is heading into uncomfortable territory. “So what was the reason you bought this place if it wasn’t for the view?”
“This building has the best security in the city.” The best security money can buy. If I had my way, Mama Hart would live here, too, but she has no interest in living downtown. So it’s just me, and now Oreo.
I pour the wine and offer Scarlett the first glass.
“Thanks.” She takes a tiny sip, and I wait for her reaction. “Mmm. This is fantastic.”
“I’m glad you like it. It’s one of my favorites.” I turn the label so she can read it. “Hopefully I’ve done as well with the meal selection.”
I pull containers out of the shopping bag, lining them up on the island like a buffet.
