Passion on Park Avenue (Central Park Pact #1)(78)

He took the mug from her hand, set that aside as well. “I’m going to need a little time to confirm for certain. Preferably naked time. But I’m pretty damn sure. Actually, no, scratch that. I’m sure. Seems I can’t stop thinking about you. Even my dad can’t stop talking about you, and that’s something.”

“Oliver—”

“Why’d you go to see him?” he asked, stepping closer.

Naomi swallowed. “I don’t know. I just . . . well, I guess I missed him a little. I don’t have family, and he needs someone, and I think I need someone, too.”

“Any chance you need two people?” Oliver asked, his hand slipping beneath her hair to cup her neck in that way she loved. “One as a difficult, trying father figure, the other as . . . a lover?”

“Don’t say it if you don’t mean it,” she whispered, her hands coming up to grip the lapel of his suit. “I can’t lose you twice.”

“Oh, I mean it,” he growled, brushing his lips against hers. “Carrots.”

Naomi smiled against his lips. “You really thinking about moving?”

“Eventually,” he said, his hands coming up to her face to kiss her more deeply. “I need a fresh start.”

“I’ve got a proposal that might sound a little crazy.”

“I’m listening,” Oliver said, still kissing her as he slowly backed her up, maneuvering around boxes, until her hips hit the kitchen counter.

“Keep your place,” she said, her hands sliding up his chest, her arms going around his neck. “But spend some time here. A lot of time here. And maybe when you’re ready to move, you’ll want a roommate?”

“Would this roommate have red hair, blue eyes, and a bit of a temper? Maybe prone to holding a grudge?”

She smiled against his lips. “Perhaps.”

“Did you just ask me to maybe, someday, move in with you?”

“I guess I did. Romantic, right?”

“You know what would be more romantic?” he asked, lifting her so she sat on the counter.

She tried to kiss him again, but he caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “If you told me how you felt about me.”

“Ah,” she said, lightly setting her hands on his shoulders and brushing her lips against his temple before moving her mouth near his ear and whispering, “I love you, Oliver.”

His arms tightened around her, pulling her closer. “I love you, too, Naomi.”

Later, much later, a naked, panting Oliver kissed the side of her head where it rested on his shoulder as they lay on her hardwood floor.

“Woman, we have got to stop wasting nice champagne.”

“Who said anything about wasting,” she said, wiggling away to retrieve their mugs. She handed one to him as he pulled himself to a sitting position against her counter.

Naomi sat in front of him, her back resting against his chest. “Warm champagne and boxes,” she said, sipping her sparkling wine and tilting her head back to look at him. “Is it all you ever wanted?”

Oliver smiled down at her, running a finger over her cheek. “All I ever wanted and more.”





EIGHT MONTHS LATER

Okay, so it’s big enough for the two of you,” Audrey said, gesturing with her cracker at Naomi’s apartment. “But what happens when you have babies?”

Naomi choked on her wine. “What?”

“Easy,” Oliver told Audrey, setting a hand on Naomi’s back and giving it a slight pat. “I haven’t even managed to coax her into a ring shop yet.”

“Because it’s too soon!” Naomi insisted. “A cautious woman does not get engaged to a man she’s known for a year—and has been dating less than that. At least this one doesn’t.”

“No? What about a man she’s known for twenty years?” He waggled his eyebrows.

“Doesn’t count. Anything prepuberty is off-limits.”

“I agree with Naomi,” Clarke said as he refilled wineglasses. “All of the good stuff starts when hormones kick in.”

“Don’t your loins get tired?” Audrey asked.

Clarke shrugged. “Not really. Claire, love, more wine?”

“I shouldn’t.”

“You should,” he said, topping off the wine. “We’re celebrating these two smitten kids moving in together.”

Naomi looked at Oliver and grinned. “Told you my plan would work.”

“It was actually my plan, Carrots. And besides, we didn’t technically move into your place. We moved into your building. But a bigger unit.”

“I’m jealous,” Claire said wistfully. “My place is so tired.”

“Oh, but your plans for it are so perfect!” Audrey said. “How’s the hunt for a contractor coming along?”

“Not,” Claire said glumly, pulling a piece of salami off a platter and nibbling the edge. “Everyone’s either out of my budget or has their own stupid ideas on how to modernize the place in a way I don’t want. I want it classic, but better. How’s that so hard to understand?”

“Actually,” Oliver said thoughtfully, pointing his glass at her. “I may have someone. One of my contractor guys mostly does high-end commercial stuff, but he’s been looking for a change. Something simple.”