a sigh. Her hair stuck up at the back—she was rumpled in a rather appealing way.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Thanks for buying groceries. How much do I owe you?”
“You don’t have to pay me anything. I probably owe you a lot of money for food since I usually stayed at your place when we were dating.”
“That’s true. Your place was a dump. I was nearly too scared to step on the living room floor.”
“Oh, come on,” he said. “It wasn’t that bad. I admit it wasn’t great, but it wasn’t so bad that you should have been scared of stepping on the floor.”
“What about the mouse you—”
“That was one time. One mouse. Other than that, it was rodent free.”
“Like I’m supposed to believe that.” She threw up her arms, and the bathrobe opened up just a little, exposing more of her skin. “You have no proof.”
“How the hell am I supposed to prove that the house I lived in back in university did not have a mouse problem?” Actually, there had been four mice—or was it five?—but Allison didn’t need to know that.
“I suppose,” she admitted grudgingly.
“But you can see the place I live in now. In fact, you’ll have to see it because I need to go home to put on a different shirt before we see my parents.”
And he wanted to show it to her so she could get this picture of him living in squalid student housing out of her mind. Replace it with a nice, clean place looking over Lake Ontario. He’d always been a messy person until he bought his own place; now he kept to a strict schedule of chores.
Yes, he wanted to show it to her. But not as badly as he wanted to have sex with her.
“Fine. As you wish.” She crossed her arms over her chest, which pushed up her breasts just a little.
“As I wish, eh?”
“Within reason. I don’t like that smirk on your face.”
He put the flour and baking powder away, then turned toward her. She was about to leave the room; he reached out and put his hand on her shoulder.
“What I wish,” he said, stepping closer, “is to finish what we started in the kitchen when we came back from the bakery. And I think that’s what you want too, but you’re too chicken to say it.”
“I’m not too chicken.”
“Then why didn’t you say what you were thinking?”
“Who said that’s what I was thinking? I’m wearing an enormous bathrobe that covers everything. Does that suggest I’ve got sex on my mind?”
“Yep. It does.” He picked her up, set her on the counter, and untied her robe. As expected, she was wearing nothing underneath. Her skin was flushed, her nipples hardened. “And I’m supposed to believe you weren’t thinking about it.”
“Believe whatever you want.”
“Yeah?”
“For the next ten minutes, sure.”
“Ten minutes?” he said. “Not fifteen? Not thirty?”
“Fine. But no more than that.”
“No?” He slid his arms around her shoulders and pulled her closer.
“I’m hungry. For food .” She paused. “Does arguing with me turn you on? It sure seems to.”
Before he could disagree, her mouth was on his, and her hands cupped the back of his head. Arguing did not turn him on. But having her so close, beautiful and disheveled…that was a different matter.
* * * *
Half an hour later, Sidney was cutting up a grapefruit, and Allison was cooking bacon. She turned the bacon over with chopsticks—he remembered her doing this before. In fact, it was one habit he’d picked up from her. Whenever he cooked bacon now, he always used chopsticks, and it always made him think of her. Not like, OMG! I miss her so much! No, it just reminded him of Allison, and he didn’t feel anything in particular.
Of course he didn’t. They’d broken up a decade ago.
“I haven’t eaten bacon in a really long time,” she said.
“Because of the calories?”
“Yeah. But I’ve decided calories don’t count this weekend. I mean, I already have to put up with you . I shouldn’t have to worry about that, too.”
“I
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