Well Played (Well Met #2)(48)

I kissed Benedick on the top of his head, plopped him on the couch, and grabbed my keys. I’d stalled long enough.

It didn’t take long to drive to the hotel, and before I could think too hard about it I was knocking on the door of his room. The relieved, almost overjoyed look on Daniel’s face when he opened the door told me that I’d made the right decision. He wasn’t looking for a hookup. He was looking for me.

“You came!” He took my hand and led me inside. The genuine surprise in his voice almost made me sad; obviously he hadn’t thought me showing up was a sure thing. Dex had never thought I wouldn’t show up. Or maybe he just hadn’t cared.

“Of course I did.” He didn’t need to know how long I’d dithered at my place. I could just let him think that it always took me this long to shower and throw on glorified pajamas and minimal makeup.

He bent to kiss my cheek, his lips skimming over my skin, and I turned my head, catching his mouth with mine and turning it into a real kiss. He accepted it with a sigh, and his hand tightened around mine for a split second before letting go, dropping to rest at my waist. I let him pull me into him, enjoying the way we seemed to fit well together despite our height difference. My heart swelled, and suddenly I couldn’t recall why I’d been so unsure about all this. Sure, we needed to get used to each other, but Daniel and I had more in common than Dex and I ever had. Even if Daniel was after a quick hookup as Dex had been, a month with this guy would be so much better than any relationship I’d had lately. What was so bad about that?

Besides, his mouth was warm on mine, his lips soft. I’d never had a more comfortable kiss, and I wanted to stay there forever. But my stomach growled, and I broke off with an awkward laugh and pressed a hand to my belly. “Sorry, I forgot to . . .” I trailed off as I realized that his room smelled delicious. For the first time, I looked past him into the hotel room. The television was on, the sound muted, and the table by the window was covered in Chinese takeout cartons.

“Forgot to eat dinner? Good.” He nodded toward the table.

I wandered over to the buffet he had set out. Lo mein, deep-fried something with neon-red sweet-and-sour sauce, a whole carton full of egg rolls, another of dumplings, and pepper steak swimming in brown sauce. “I mean, I’m hungry, but I don’t know if I can eat all this.”

“I’d be impressed as hell if you did. But don’t worry. I know a few guys down the hall who’ll finish all this in a heartbeat.”

“Oh?” I raised my eyebrows. “Are we having company?”

“Nope.” His hand went back to my waist, a small show of possessiveness that I didn’t mind a bit. “They can have leftovers tomorrow morning. That’s what the mini-fridge is for.”

“Breakfast of champions.” I glanced up at him, and the humor that danced in his eyes was an echo of my smile.

“Exactly,” he said. “These guys are not picky. Now, come on, grab something to eat. They were just about to renovate the bathroom when you got here.” He nodded toward the television.

“What?” My gaze flew to the muted television, which was tuned to one of those endlessly similar cable shows about people renovating houses. “Oh my God, I love these shows.”

Daniel nodded. “I remember.”

“You . . . remember?” My brow furrowed. He sounded so certain, as if it was something we did all the time that had become a familiar routine. Takeout Chinese and . . .

Then memory sparked, and a slow smile spread over my face. “You remember.” It had been a throwaway email one night, when the hour was so late I’d forgotten what I’d typed until he replied to it. But I’d confessed one of my favorite guilty pleasures. Takeout Chinese and home renovation shows on cable. Something about lo mein going great with schadenfreude.

“Of course I do,” he said. “I remember all of it.” He shrugged. “But you weren’t specific as to what kind of Chinese food you liked.”

“So you got all of it.”

He chuckled. “Something like that.”

This night wasn’t turning out at all like I’d expected, and I couldn’t have been happier about it. When I’d come to this hotel to spend the night with Dex, there had been little conversation. Acrobatic sex, sure. But no real conversation. Now, Daniel and I propped ourselves up with pillows in his bed, our legs stretched out in front of us, passing the lo mein and dumpling cartons back and forth, digging into them with chopsticks while we heckled the married couple with more money than sense on the television.

“Really?” I yelled. “You have a quarter of a million dollars to renovate a Philadelphia row house, and that’s the cheap garbage tile you pick for the bathroom?”

“They have to make up for the money they spent replacing those hardwood floors somehow.” Daniel crunched into an eggroll.

I tsked and shook my head. “They could have refinished the original ones for half that, easily.”

“Oh, yeah?” He bumped my shoulder with his. “Refinish a lot of floors, do you?”

“I watch a lot of TV where other people refinish a lot of floors. I think that makes me an expert.”

He considered that. “Close enough. I’ll accept that.”

I slurped up one more bite of noodles while the couple on the screen bickered about the color of the shower tile. Their marriage wasn’t going to last beyond the renovation of that house. “I wonder what it’s like,” I finally said.