The Room Mate (Roommates #1)(14)
Slipping my feet into the tall black heels I’d regret within the hour, I was ready. As I added my grandma’s beautiful vintage diamond earrings, I checked my appearance in the full-length mirror on the back of my closet door. The high heels elongated my legs, and the dress shimmered in the light.
My mind wandered back to last night. His making dinner for us had been such an unexpectedly sweet gesture, and our conversation had flowed so easily. I’d thought I already knew him pretty well, but there had been more to discover. I’d seen bits of his past as we talked—the way his mouth had tightened and his brows turned down when he spoke of his modest upbringing, the upbringing that had inspired him to strive for more, and the hope in his eyes when he’d told me about practicing medicine. I liked this new, adult version of Cannon.
It was strange. As much as I’d detested the idea of having a roommate at first, I found the company to be pleasantly refreshing. I even felt safer, slept better, with him under the same roof. Maybe it was because we were more alike than I’d remembered. I understood Cannon’s philosophy on—how did he say it? oh, yeah—the art of making lemonade. I understood it better probably than anyone.
My mother had always told me I was a careful and overly cautious little girl. From the time I could walk, I was serious and often worried. Always the responsible one, someone friends could count on. Then I lost my parents within a year of each other after my high school graduation, and my world became dark and lonely. It took several months before I realized it was up to me to make it better, and I wouldn’t tarnish their memory by falling apart.
I’d never done anything wild or reckless or foolish. I took care of people. It was what I did. I guess, in my own way, I was making lemonade. I enjoyed my work as human resources manager for a non-profit, I took in Enchilada off the street when I found him wandering without a collar, Allie and I stuck by each other through thick and thin. I just carried on. One day after another. Of course I wanted more, wanted to find someone to share my life with, but that would happen in time. Though the conversation and meal last night with a man who’d been attentive and sweet only cultivated that feeling inside me more.
Deciding I couldn’t procrastinate any longer, I headed out to see if Cannon was ready too. I found him standing in the kitchen, loading a plate and a glass into the dishwasher.
He was bent at the waist, and my eyes zeroed in on his firm ass. Holy shit. The man had the body of a Greek god. The air left my lungs as I drank in the view. Yep, it had been entirely too long since I’d gotten laid.
As he rose to face me, a slow smile spread across his lips. I’d been caught. I quickly looked away, but the damage was done.
“Ready?” I asked, breathless.
Cannon looked scrumptious in a black suit, crisp white dress shirt that was fitted enough to hint at the muscle beneath, and a wine-colored tie. His hair was messy and his jaw held a dusting of a shadow. His body was so masculine, so heavy with the promise of sex, that it drew mine like a magnet.
Rather than answer, Cannon’s smile faded and his gaze slipped from mine. My body heated under his perusal as his gaze drifted over the swell of my breasts, the curve of my hips. If it was possible to spontaneously combust under the weight of his stare, I was about to find out.
“Get a good look?” I finally managed to say, scolding him.
“Did you?” he asked, his voice much too controlled. “Shall I spin around for you? Maybe get naked again?” He chuckled after that last part, and I felt my face heat.
Yes, unfortunately, I’d already seen what was underneath his clothes—a six-pack of abs, and a large hoo-ha between his legs. Like that was a memory I’d soon forget.
Placing one hand on my hip, I fought for control of my body’s reaction to his incredibly masculine one. “Aren’t doctors supposed to have more . . .” My lips twitched, looking for the right word.
“Bedside manner?” he offered after a moment.
“Tact,” I deadpanned before my brain could fixate too much on the way he said bed.
The knock at the door grabbed our attention. Allie was here.
Thank freaking God. I snatched my postage-stamp-sized purse from the counter on my way to the front door.
“Are you guys ready?” Allie asked, looking adorable in a black shift dress.
Cannon stepped into his size 12 black dress shoes and slipped his cell into his pocket. The movement drew my eyes to the front of his dress slacks, and my face heated.
Dammit.
Allie drove since she was the one who invited us. When we arrived, the valet whisked her car away while we climbed the steps to the stunning museum where the event was being held. I’d only been here once, on a class field trip almost two decades ago.
Tail-coated waiters weaved through the crowd, balancing glasses of pink champagne on serving trays, and platters of enticing food lined the long banquet tables on the far side of the room. A seven-piece band played soft jazz, creating a rich, cultured atmosphere. Pretty people mingled and laughed and made small talk. I recognized the song playing as one by Dean Martin, and smiled as Allie flagged down a nearby waiter, grabbing glasses of bubbly for the three of us.
“How’s it going so far, roomies?” Allie smiled, looking between me and her brother.
I swallowed a sudden lump in my throat. “Fine,” I lied. I was terrified my face was going to betray my growing attraction for the man who was currently standing way too fucking close to me.