Sex, Not Love(29)

Sadly, I really didn’t want to go to an art gallery opening on Sunday. I said yes because I needed to have something blocking the path for Hunter. Marcus was that obstacle.

No matter how nice a guy he was and how much I wanted to be attracted to Marcus, it wasn’t there. Being with Hunter an hour ago was a not-so-subtle reminder of what attraction felt like. You can’t force chemistry to exist any more than you can deny that it’s present. Then again, chemistry wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Chemistry is what brings people together. It isn’t what keeps them together. Trust, respect, and compatibility are the glue that keeps a couple together. I had all the chemistry in the world with my ex-husband, but none of the glue that mattered most in the end.

Marcus reached across the table and took my hand. “Don’t sound so excited about it,” he joked.

“I’m sorry. I’m just having an off day. It’s not you. Really. It’s not.”

He laced our fingers together. “How was your stepdaughter’s game?”

“They won in overtime.”

“It was nice of the coach to give her feedback after. He must be dedicated.” I’d mentioned that I was going to be late because Izzy was getting some coaching tips.

“Oh, it wasn’t her coach. It was Hunter—he’s a friend of a friend.”

“The guy from California?”

My brows drew down. “Yes. He’s here for a while on business. How did you know he was from California?”

“You mentioned him on our first date.”

“I did?”

He nodded. “A few times. When you were talking about your trip.”

“Oh.” I felt the need to explain now. “He played college basketball, so he came to the game to observe and give her some tips.”

For the rest of the date, I worked at being present. Marcus didn’t deserve my half-assed attention.

At the end of the night, outside of my apartment building, he took my hands. He’d insisted on seeing me home. “I know you have to get home to Izzy, but maybe Sunday after the art gallery, I can make you some dinner at my place?”

Third date. Even though I was sexually deprived and had started to date to remedy that situation, I wasn’t ready for sex with Marcus.

“I go to my mom’s on Sunday evenings for dinner. All my sisters go.”

His smile wilted. “Another time, maybe.”

“Sure.”

He leaned in and kissed me. As it happened, I found myself focusing on the mechanics of the kiss. Almost as if I needed to think about what to do with my tongue, my lips, even my hands. It was the exact opposite of a kiss with Hunter. With him, I was unable to think. Raw passion took over, and I had zero control. Marcus’s kiss was…nice. Pleasant.

I definitely was not panting when it broke.

“I’ll see you Sunday?”

“Sunday it is.” God, the entire thing felt awkward, and I couldn’t wait to hide in my apartment. “Thank you again for dinner.”

I knocked on the door to Mrs. Whitman’s apartment across the hall to let her know I was home. Izzy was fifteen, past the age that she felt being left with a babysitter was acceptable. But I still asked the neighbor to check in on her when I went out.

Izzy was fast asleep on the couch with the TV blaring when I walked in. Rather than wake her, I covered her with a blanket. Her laptop was open, so I went to shut it, but when I moved it, the screensaver turned off, and the last thing she must’ve been working on came up. It was the results of a Google search of her father’s name.

I’d caught her doing that on a few occasions after he was arrested. At the time, I figured it was natural for her to be curious what was being said about him. But this was more than two years later. It made me realize Hunter’s presence tonight had probably made her miss him. As much as he’d lied to me and kept things from me, he’d been a good father to Izzy. He’d never missed a game, and they used to play basketball often together.

I sighed and shut the laptop before flicking off the TV. Why did the men in my life have to be so difficult?

***

The buzzer rang half an hour early. Considering I was running late and had just gotten out of the shower, I hoped it was my neighbor in 4D who’d forgotten her key again.

“Hello?”

“Morning, sweet pea.” His voice was extra gravelly through the intercom. My nipples perked up.

I looked down, and spoke to them. “What am I going to do with you guys? Haven’t we talked about this? You get your hopes up too fast, and then you’re sorely disappointed.” I pressed the intercom. “Fourth floor.” I buzzed the front door open.

A few minutes later, Hunter stepped off the elevator and sauntered down the hallway toward me. He had a natural, confident swagger that made even his damn walk sexy—not to mention he had his work boots on again today. Those things really did it for me for some odd reason. And since I was standing there doing nothing but holding the door open, I couldn’t help admiring the rest of the package. Unfortunately, that didn’t help my nipple situation any.

Hunter’s eyes dropped and took lingering note before his gaze returned to mine with a triumphant smile. I rolled my eyes and stepped aside for him to come in. Of course, he stopped in the doorway so we were toe to toe. Leaning down, he kissed my cheek and then leaned in—it seemed to be his thing, a few words that made the hair stand up on my neck after a superficially innocent kiss.