Behind Closed Doors (Behind Closed Doors #1)(61)

“Careful about the early invitation,” I warn. “I’m still the woman who freaked out on you last night.”

“And I’m still the * who backed you against your couch in your apartment and accused you of blackmailing me.”

My brow furrows. “That’s true. Hmmm. I think I should hold that against you—but then you might hold the hallway thing against me.” Hating I’d just opened that can of worms, I reach for my coffee.

Jason steps to me, cupping my jaw and tilting my gaze to his. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

“We do, actually, if we’re going to keep seeing each other.”

“Eventually, yes, but we removed the ticking clock. There’s no rush on anything. Okay?”

I am overwhelmed in all the right ways with how understanding he is, how different from anyone else I’ve ever known. “Yes,” I say. “Okay.”

He kisses me, a gentle brush of lips over lips, before he grabs a pod. “Now we make coffee,” he says, his tone lighter now, releasing me and holding up a pod. “Death Wish Coffee,” he explains, popping it into the machine and pushing the brew button. “Enough caffeine to make you dance even if you don’t dance. The next best thing to Red Bull.”

“No thank you to that.” I laugh, lifting my cup. “Chocolate-flavored coffee. The only calorie-free way to get a chocolate fix.”

“That’s what creamer is for,” he says, opening the fridge and grabbing a bottle. “Almond Joy flavor.”

“That’s not calorie free.”

“It’s Vegas, baby. Nothing has calories.”

I laugh. “Oh, well then. I’ll take some.”

He pours the creamer in my cup and I sip the yummy sweetness. “That’s really good.” I tilt my head. “Didn’t you drink sweet coffee on the plane, but then complain about mine being too sweet on your break last night?”

“I don’t do sugar or booze when I play,” he explains, leaning on the gray marbled counter while I rest an elbow on the island. “Sugarfree Red Bulls hit me up with just the right amount of caffeine high.” He tilts his head, studying me a moment. “You know, brushing my teeth isn’t the only thing I haven’t done with a woman since college. I haven’t done morning coffee and conversation, either.”

“That’s a long dry spell,” I say, but I can’t help it, I’m secretly pleased that this is now our thing. “Surely one of the women you were with stayed the night.”

“I don’t do the morning after,” he says. “I told you. I was honest with everyone, and I made sure I sent a clear message. But back in college, I did do the whole ‘steady girlfriend who was going to be forever’ routine, which was never going to be forever. Ashley was her name.”

“What went wrong?”

“She was all about the three kids, two dogs, and a house, while I just wanted to play cards. She’s married to a doctor with three kids now, and damn happy it wasn’t me.”

“I doubt that,” I say. “You’re a rock star in the poker world.”

“Whose only love affair was with the cards, but like I said. I’m retiring now while I’m on top, which was always my plan.” He circles back to me. “What about you?”

“What do you mean? What about me?”

“When was the last time you brushed your teeth with a man, or had coffee with him while wearing his T-shirt?”

Never when it felt this comfortable and right, I think, but I stick to fact. “Coincidentally,” I say, “college for me as well, but he wasn’t a student, rather a corporate raider and an attorney.”

He narrows his gaze on me. “So is this the challenge I have to face? I’m not an attorney and you like attorneys?”

“No, actually I dislike most attorneys. And Greg, my ex, gave me even more reasons to feel that way.”

“I’m confused. You dislike attorneys but want to be one?”

“It’s not crazy at all. I put myself through my first couple of years of college working for a wonderful attorney who was all about the good guys winning—not the people with the most money winning. He had a small staff and I pretty much worked like his junior attorney, and he really encouraged me and believed in me. He was like a father to me.”

“Was?”

“He died of cancer my junior year. One of those ‘diagnosed and then gone six months later’ stories.”

“That sucks. I’m sorry.”

“Me, too. I loved that man. It was hard to lose him, and I had met Greg right before he died. He was opposing counsel on a case and pursued me hard when the case ended. And he was ultimately very bad for me, something I stupidly didn’t see for far too long.”

“How long?”

“Two years.”

“And since then?”

“I’ve been focused on getting into law school. I don’t date.”

He arches a brow. “Until me. Right?”

My lips curve. “Yes. Until you.”

His cell phone rings. “That would be my father. This is going to take a while, baby.”

Spontaneity hits me and I step into him and kiss him. “Enjoy your call.”