CHAPTER ONE
Champagne is always a good idea. Especially when you’re the perfect combination of incredibly happy and just tipsy enough not to be drunk. Matt and I are in the limo Grandmother insisted take us home tonight.
Tonight. I don’t think the smile ever left my face. Grandmother is married, and I’m … well, I’m with Matt. We danced. And it was amazing.
He squeezes my hand. “What are you thinking about?”
“How we first met.”
He chuckles. “You had all that alcohol, and I asked you if you wanted me to remember you in your bed. Dead. But when you asked if you would be naked, I will admit that my mind went places.”
“What kind of places?” I flirt.
“Obviously of you in my bed. All sprawled out. I might have even wished for it.” He laughs out loud. “Of course, then my wish came true. I learned very quickly that I needed to be more specific in my wishes.”
“Oh, are you referring to the night you opened the door, wearing nothing but workout pants? You were slightly out of breath. A little sweaty. I forgot why I was there.”
“I noticed. You were totally checking out my body. Of course, you were shit-faced. I just didn’t know it yet.”
“I asked you what your favorite position was. You said you’d have to show me.”
“And you told me it was for research. Speaking of that …” He pulls me closer and puts his lips on mine.
Which is a wondrous feeling, but I can’t help but be surprised by it. This is Matt. My neighbor, who I lived next door to for a year and only admired from afar. At least he has no idea about that.
“Speaking of what?” I ask coyly in between kisses, wondering if he’s going to bring up his favorite position.
“I read Candy-Coated Love.”
Oh. Shit.
“And I was thinking that the golden retriever in the book sounded a lot like Phoebe.”
“Probably,” I try to say nonchalantly. “I am inspired by everyday events. I’ve always thought that she’s a pretty dog.”
“And what about the guy?” He leans back, gives me a smirk, and speaks in a girlie voice, “A six-foot-plus mountain of lean muscle with a perfect smile, who looks like a fairy-tale prince and has an adorable, playful dog.”
“You memorized the book?”
“Not the book, just that part. And the fact that they live across the hall from each other. Admit it—you’ve been crushing on me this whole time.”
I should deny it. But I’m done fighting with him. “It’s all true.”
“Excellent,” he says. “Because I was thinking about candy-coating myself later.”
“Excuse me?”
“You like chocolate, right? And I was hoping that, tonight, I could talk you into coming to my place.” And just when I think, Oh, that’s so sweet, literally, he cracks a grin. “Maybe we could do it in the missionary position?”
“Ah! That was a low blow! You can’t use my stories against me.”
“Oh, really?” He laughs. “It’s because of the book that I have chocolate. And champagne chilling. Rose petals on the bed. I’ll bring you coffee and breakfast in the morning—just like your hero did in the book.”
I falter for a moment as the story comes back to me.
“I want that again,” I blurt out.
“Wait?! The book wasn’t about me? Shit.”
“Oh no. It totally was about you, but that’s not what I meant. I know the sexy stuff is selling, and I know it was good for me to get out there, but it’s not what I want to write. I like crafting sweet stories where I focus on a couple’s relationship, not their sex life. The kind of book where you can feel their love through the pages.”
“Then, that’s what you should do. Which works out for me because I’d like to date you, Kitty. Just you. And I feel like that would be hard to do if you were dating guys for research.”
“But back to the candy-coated part,” I say, quickly changing the subject.
He looks down the front of my dress and grins. “Does that mean you’ll come over tonight, Valentine?”
“I will. And who knows? With enough champagne, maybe I’ll reenact the first night I slept in your bed.”
“Minus the puking,” he says.
“Deal.”
Sometime very early in the morning, before the sun is up, I do wake up in a similar fashion to that first time—my eyes coming to rest on a naked shoulder next to me.
To a dog who barks the second I move.
“How are you feeling?” Matt asks with a knowing look.
Only this time, he’s not referring to the fact that I was drunk. He’s referring to the fact that last night was hands down the best night of my life. The best sex of my life.
“Perfect,” I say dreamily. “The chocolate was amazing.”
“Oh, break my heart. Surely, that wasn’t the only thing that was amazing.”
“Hmm,” I tease. “Let me think about it. I did enjoy doing a little striptease for you.”
He pulls me closer to him, allowing me to feel his naked body against mine—and one part in particular seems to be standing at attention.
“I enjoyed that as well.”
I expect him to tease me a little, but instead, he bends down and kisses my forehead. A total boyfriend move.
“I loved everything about last night.” He takes a deep breath and then says, “And I’m pretty sure that I love you, Kitty Valentine.”
If I were writing this scene in a book, my heroine’s breath would catch, and she would shed a tear, saying something perfectly romantic back. But this isn’t a book. It’s my life.
I mean, I do breathe in. I do find tears pooling in my eyes. And I say the only thing I can think of, “On the rooftop.”
“Um, what?”
And I know what he’s thinking. What the hell is she even talking about? And I know what I should say, but it’s just jumbled up because I’m feeling slightly woozy and warm inside. Is this what real love or true love feels like?
“On the rooftop. My rooftop party. I, um … you asked me if I knew what I was going to wish for. I wished for this. For you.”
“Really?”
“Yep.”
“Does that mean I don’t have to make breakfast?”
“Oh no. That’s so I’ll keep you.”
“And what do you have to do to keep me?”
I roll my eyes and don’t reply. I don’t need to. I just reach down under the covers and let my hand answer his question.
I feel something wet and cold against my hand, which is hanging off the edge of the mattress. It takes me a moment to realize it’s Phoebe. I reach down, smile at her, and give her head a pat.
I roll over, wondering why she’s out of her kennel, and realize that Matt isn’t in bed with me. For a second, I almost wonder if everything that happened last night was just some amazing dream.
But then he walks in the room. Shirtless, carrying a tray of food.
God, does it get any better than this?
But it does—when he smiles at me.