Page 33 of Falling into Place

“I’m so sorry, I had no idea,” she said. “We could have had something else. I wish you’d told me.”

“I should have. I thought about it, but ...” He looked down at his hands, clasped together. “I’m not good at talking about things. And I thought maybe having it with someone who made me happy would be kind of nice. Like maybe it would feel like it used to.”

“Oh.” A piece of her frustration slipped away.

“I’ll work on it,” he said, and she knew he meant it. “Talking to you about that stuff, I mean. But you have some explaining to do yourself, you know.”

She paused with her piece of pizza halfway to her mouth. “What do you mean?”

“Who’s this sleazy client Sasha mentioned? Did something happen?”

Carly put her food back on the plate and balanced it on her lap.

“Yes and no. I had a married client who was ... flirty.” Based on the hard look in Brooks’s eyes just from that, she figured it was best not to elaborate further.

“I ignored it at first, but it got to the point I had to shut him down. A few days later, his wife called my boss and accused me of hitting on her husband.”

“What the hell?”

“Obviously, it wasn’t true. Thank goodness Mai believed me—I guess this guy has a reputation for running around on his wife, and he’s not discreet.

So I didn’t get in trouble, but just to cover her ass Mai made us take all this training about professionalism and appropriate client relations.

Wrote up a new policy we all had to sign.

All that happened right before Sasha pitched this Bachelor idea. ”

“Oh my God, Carly.” Brooks sank back into the cushions, palms over his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me? This is a big fucking deal. It’s not just, like, something taboo or frowned upon—you could lose your entire job over this, couldn’t you?”

“Well ... yeah. But no one’s gonna find out, right?”

“Sasha just did,” he pointed out.

“She might be mad at me, but she wouldn’t rat me out.” She wasn’t the vindictive sort, and saying it out loud made Carly feel even shittier for doing this to her. “Besides, that wouldn’t help her situation, either.”

“True.” He sighed and pushed back up to a sitting position. “Okay. Well, we’re officially in ultrastealth mode. I’ve already done enough damage, I won’t add your job to it.”

“Should ... should we just stay away from each other until the final article goes up?” Carly asked. “About four more weeks, right?”

Brooks cleared his throat. “Yeah. We could try that.”

Carly frowned. “Really?”

“Sure. I can wait if you can.”

She regarded his sweet, hazel eyes and thick, dark hair that was honestly still a little messy from sex. She swallowed. “I can wait.”

“Okay. Good. We’ll stop and revisit things when it’s over.”

“Right.”

They stared at each other for a beat, then both faced forward. Carly took a bite of pizza and Brooks a pull from his beer.

The bottle hit the table with a clatter. “Or we could not stop and just be really, really careful.”

Carly was nodding before he finished speaking. “Yes. Let’s do that.”

He groaned with relief, and she almost laughed. “Good.”

They finished their dinner, and after she helped take the box and dishes to the kitchen, he stopped in front of her and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

Carly leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his waist as he pulled her in.

She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, then did it again, relaxing with each one.

Today had been a lot—some of it in wonderful ways and some not.

His chin came to rest on the top of her head, and his arms held steady across her back as if he were perfectly content to stay like this for a good, long while.

Few things felt as good as standing in a man’s arms. The best hugs made her feel safe and wanted without expectation.

“Hugs are underrated.”

“I was just thinking the same thing.” Her cheek found the perfect spot against the curve of his shoulder. “Especially hugs with men. I love my girlfriends, but boobs get in the way.”

He choked on a laugh, and her head moved against his chest. “I’d have to disagree. Boobs are my favorite part.”

“That’s because you don’t have any. Trying to hug another woman means arranging four of them between us.”

“I can honestly say I’ve never thought about that.”

“You’re going to now, though, aren’t you?”

“Frequently.”

Feeling more like herself, she gave him a quick smack on the ass and pulled back. “I’d better go.”

“What? Why?”

The fact that he didn’t want her to leave sent a rush of warmth through her. “I don’t know, because it’s late and I still have work to do?”

He just looked at her, blinked, and gripped the back of his neck with one hand. “But we just talked about boobs and stuff.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “Wanna come to my place? I thought I’d be home hours ago, and I really did have some prep work to do for a client I’m meeting tomorrow.

But I can put on another movie that makes most people cry and see if you have a heart in there somewhere, and when I’m done, we can do stuff. ”

“Would this be, like, a sleepover?”

“I don’t hate the idea of you in my bed.”

A huge grin split across his face. “Can I bring Oreo? Introduce him and Pepper?”

Damn, this man was adorable. “Sure.”

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her in for a kiss. “Let me grab a few things.”

It was remarkably difficult to focus with Brooks sitting a few feet away, but she managed it for the entire length of The English Patient .

He didn’t shed a tear.

“Something’s wrong with you,” she said as the credits began.

“Probably,” he agreed. “But I’m not the one with color-coded bookshelves and appliances on my counter lined up by size.”

“You should see my closet,” she quipped, and immediately regretted it when he rose from the couch.

“Oooh, yes. I do want to see that.”

She pushed her chair away from the desk and lunged for him. “No!”

In the quiet apartment she realized how loud and desperate that had sounded.

He stilled and slowly turned to face her. He tilted his head and blinked. “Why? Whatcha got in there?”

She giggled nervously. Smoothed her shirt and picked at her thumbnail. “What? Nothing. I just ... I’m a stylist. It’s my Zen space. I’m very, um, particular about it, is all.”

He lifted his chin a notch, eyeing her. “I won’t touch anything, promise. I’ll take off my shoes and wash my hands and cross myself before I go in.”

She narrowed her gaze. “You’re making fun of me.”

“You’re hiding something.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Then let me check out your closet. You’ve been in mine and examined every single thing I own—” His eyes went wide and he sucked in a breath, his mouth dropping open. “That’s it.”

She said nothing.

He pointed toward her room. “My jeans are in there, aren’t they?”

She hesitated a second too long. “No.”

“Carly Porter. Don’t lie to me.”

She tucked her lips between her teeth.

He shook his head slowly, a grave expression on his face as he made his dramatic announcement. “I’m going in.”

At this point, there was no use trying to stop him. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she followed him into her room, where Oreo and Pepper had claimed opposite corners, curled up, and were completely ignoring each other.

She sat on her bed, grabbed a navy throw pillow and hugged it to her chest, waiting.

Several minutes later he emerged from her walk-in closet ...

. . . wearing those atrocious pants.

He stopped in the doorway, sliding his palms this way and that along the denim at his waist and down his thighs. “So. Damn. Comfortable.”

She wouldn’t normally say this about a client’s clothes, but they were past that and the flash of challenge in his eye couldn’t go unheeded. “So. Fucking. Hideous.”

He was fighting a smile. “Wow. That bad?”

She quirked a brow. She’d die on this hill. “Yes. That bad.”

“Huh.” He put his thumb and forefinger to his chin. “I seem to remember you once telling me it’s not the piece of clothing, but how the person wears it.”

“Those jeans were excluded from that comment.”

“Really?” A muscle flexed in his jaw and he regarded her carefully as he reached behind his head with one hand and in one fluid motion tugged his shirt off. “How about now?”

Okay. So, the thing was, the man had a nice body.

She’d never been very attracted to those huge guys who spent hours at the gym to be all muscly and veiny.

She gravitated more toward lean and fit, and the modest chest, defined abs, and masculine-without-being-overly-large arms filling her vision were very much her preferred eye candy.

She also had a mild obsession with romance films, so when he raked his long, clean (and talented, she’d learned a few hours ago) fingers through his hair and reached up to grip the doorframe, several parts of her body took notice.

In conclusion, she was very, very attracted to him. Even, apparently, in the jeans.

In. The. Jeans.

She was also very, very stubborn. With considerable effort, she schooled her features to what she hoped was bored and unaffected. She didn’t trust her voice not to come out breathy and wanting, though, so she kept quiet.

He licked his bottom lip and smiled as he let his arms fall and took a few steps toward her, eyes locked on hers. He reached down and flicked open the button, and they slid an inch down his hips, revealing his left hip bone and a mouthwatering view of that beautiful V. “Now?”

Her grip on the pillow tightened. “I hate those jeans so much,” she said in a near whisper, swallowing thickly, “that I want you to take them off right this minute.”

“You do?”

She nodded. Vigorously, her intention to appear unaffected be damned. She was on fire.

“I will if you tell me I look good in them.”

She squeezed her eyelids shut. “Brooks, it’s not you. You’re so hot my mouth is watering. But no one, and I mean no one, would look good in those.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” He rebuttoned them and walked away, tossing a victorious grin over his shoulder. From the hallway, he called out, “Which movie should we watch next?”

Carly threw the pillow to the floor and fell backward on the bed, covering her face with her hands. She groaned. “ Fine . You win, I love the jeans and you look good in the jeans and get your fine ass back in here right this second!”

One second later she heard the thump of denim hit the floor and two seconds later he was on the bed, laughing and kissing her all over.

She frowned while she ran her hands down his back and arched her neck to give him better access. “I’m not sorry I stole them, though.”

He kissed her hard and deep, sliding his hand into the waistband of her leggings.

“Neither am I.”