Lori Wilde - It Happened in L.A.

On the other hand, she’d watched him at the bar, at the ballpark. He used his looks to get what he wanted. It wasn’t intentional, rather instinctual. He was used to being fawned over, having the world handed to him on a platter.

Was it possible even with his best intentions to overcome a lifetime of conditioning?

“I know that look,” Holly said. “You’re thinking too damn much. Here’s an idea—what if you just pretend you can’t see the future? What if you try to be with him as if it’s exactly what both of you should be doing? Let yourself be surprised by what comes next. The worst that can happen is it won’t work out. Give it a chance. He deserves that, and so do you.”

Gwen tucked into her salad. Could Holly be right? Was she simply projecting her worst fears, and would that cause her to miss out on a chance for real happiness? The hell with the diet. She called over the waitress and ordered a glass of wine.

PAUL WHIPPED OUT the flowers he’d been hiding behind his back. Gwen’s mouth opened in a big O that turned into a smile so great it made his whole week better.

“What’s this for?” she asked, taking the bouquet of white and rust calla lilies. “They’re amazing. How did you know these were my favorite flowers?”

He walked inside feeling pretty awesome. “I didn’t. Not for sure, anyway. I knew you liked them because you have that picture in the bathroom.”

She kissed him before she shut the door. “Thank you. Come with me into the kitchen so I can put them in water.”

He obeyed, happily, thinking he wouldn’t mind a cup of coffee. Something that would wake him up. He’d spent all afternoon at Dodger Stadium with a group of producers and directors from the DIY shows he repped. Even though he had three of his people there, it had still been exhausting, and he’d missed most of the game. But the party had gotten them all in one room and they’d agreed to go in together on his year-long promo plans that would cover TV, print and special events.

He’d rather have been alone with Gwen. He’d even have settled for her joining the group, but she’d said she had other things to do.

He sat down on a stool by the bar and watched as she fussed over the flowers. He didn’t actually care how they ended up, just that she was happy.

“They’re stunning. I love them.” She turned to look at him. Her smile faded a bit. “You look exhausted. You want to skip tonight?”

He shook his head. “I’ve been looking forward to it all day.”

She seemed relieved. “Okay. Wine? Beer? Coffee?”

“Coffee would be great.”

“Won’t take me two seconds.” She turned to the cupboard and took out a tiny little coffeemaker, one that made a single cup. She had a little grinder right next to it and in no time the scent of coffee filled the space.

“What else? Did you eat all afternoon, or were you too busy working it?”

“I ate, I think. Nothing too fancy, but really, coffee’s all I can handle for the moment. Don’t worry, though. After a cup, I’ll be ready to go. We can dine anywhere you like.”

“Hmm,” she said, “I was thinking we might just stay here. Watch a little TV maybe, or I don’t know. Perhaps we can find some other way to occupy the evening.”

That woke him right up, although he doubted she meant what he hoped she meant. “Here is good. Here is very good.”

“I’m glad.” She got out some half-and-half, and brought it to him, along with a spoon, a napkin and a white ceramic bowl of sugar.

Paul tried to read her, to see if there was even a remote possibility she’d meant more than watching TV. Her smile was enigmatic, which wasn’t unusual. She was always enigmatic.

She’d worn her hair down and soft, begging to be touched. She had on this really silky-looking blouse, light green that went with her eyes. Shit. She was barefoot under her loose-fitting pants. And her toenails were painted, something light and feminine.

She coughed, making him look up at her face. “I can put on shoes if you like.”

“No. No, no. I like bare feet. Not that I have a fetish about them or anything. I mean, feet are feet, but it’s nice when they look so pretty and…You’re laughing at me.”

“Yes, I am. In a good way.”

He rubbed his face with his hand, thinking it would be really great to take a long, hot shower. Instead, he fixed his cup of coffee and watched her putter. That was enough.

“I had a busy day, myself.” Gwen rinsed out the coffeemaker and brewed another cup. “I shopped and got all my veggies together for the week. Very noble. Then I looked for towels and ended up spending a small fortune on tchotchkes I don’t need.”

“For example?”

“A watering can. Not that they’re unnecessary, but I already have a perfectly fine can.”

“What enticed you to buy this one?”

She knelt by the cupboard under the sink and took out a funny-looking blue thing that had a long curved spout. “How could I resist?”

“I have no idea. I’m shocked it was still on the shelf.”

“Ah, so now you’re laughing at me.”

“Yes,” he repeated. “I am.”

“In a good way.”

“Always.”

“So movies, yes?” she asked. “Shall I make popcorn?”

“Movies, yes. Only make the popcorn if you want it. I guess I ate more at the park than I thought.”

“No. We can just veg, and watch anything you like.”

“Shall we move to the couch?”

The enigmatic smile returned. “Actually, I was thinking we could watch in my bedroom.”

“Bedroom?”

“I have a great TV there.”

He was glad he’d put his mug down or he’d have dropped it. He’d been amazingly restrained about the whole sex thing, figuring she’d let him know when it was time. What he didn’t know, not for sure, was if this was the signal. Any other woman he’d known, he wouldn’t have had to think twice. Gwen was harder to read.

“If you don’t want to, the couch is fine.”

“No. I’d like to watch TV wherever you’re comfortable. ”

She came over to the bar across from him. “If by watch TV you mean make love, then I’d be comfortable.”

He stood. “I can do that. I can do that just fine.”

She grinned. “You can finish your coffee.”

He smiled back. “I’m done. Great coffee. Seriously, best I’ve ever had.”

She laughed.

He followed her, not ashamed that he kept far enough back that he could watch her ass the whole way. Now he wished her blouse wasn’t so long. Damn, he hadn’t considered this was an option. Thankfully, he’d replaced the condom in his wallet. Too bad he hadn’t brought two. Funny how he didn’t feel tired anymore. He still could use that shower, though.

She led him down a small hallway that had some nice black-and-white pictures on the wall, then to her bedroom. The king-size bed, covered in a purple comforter, was done up girl style with more pillows than he’d ever understand. But nice. There was a major flat-screen TV on the opposite wall, and near the window next to an antique dresser was an armchair and a brass reading lamp.

Then he noticed a champagne bucket set up by the bed. He went to investigate, but there was no actual champagne. Just a couple of Heineken beers and a couple of water bottles in ice. “Hmm,” he said, “should I be insulted?”

“Why?”

“You seem pretty confident I was a sure thing.”

She came up to him and touched the back of his neck with her hand. Looking into his eyes, her own alight with a mixture of heat and laughter, she nodded. “Reasonably confident,” she whispered, just before she kissed him.

They’d kissed a lot since that night on the couch, but this was different. It was a prelude, and that changed everything. Just because he hadn’t pushed her didn’t mean he hadn’t wanted to. It was a whole new thing with Gwen, kind of like reading that damn book. Who knew literary fiction could be foreplay?