Motivated by dumplings, Georgia shut her computer down and finally left the empty office building. She hurried across the cobblestones and into her apartment building, then jogged up the stairs. She unlocked the door and pushed it open. “Hi, honey, I’m home!”
“Awesome,” a voice answered. But it did not belong to Becca.
Georgia’s heart did a backflip with a double twist. She peered around the corner to find Leo relaxing on the sofa in tight jeans and a form-fitting thermal shirt, drinking a beer. “Well hello there,” she said, suddenly shy.
His smile was so warm that some of the strangeness of the moment evaporated. “I rang your buzzer about a half hour ago, and Becca told me to just come up.”
You can ring my buzzer anytime. Georgia’s eyes got a little stuck on the long, muscular legs propped onto her coffee table. “No plans tonight?” she asked.
“Oh, I have a few,” he said, his brown eyes flashing. “But you should eat your dinner before it gets cold. Becca left it in the kitchen.”
Georgia’s tummy fluttered as she scurried off to find the Thai food that Becca had left her. There was a note on the bag. I won’t be home until midnight.
Everyone had big ideas for her evening.
She made a plate for herself and carried it into the living room, taking the spot beside Leo.
“Nice apartment,” he said.
“It’s cozy. That’s Brooklyn for ‘small.’”
“The brick fireplace is neat, though. Santa can visit you.”
Georgia offered her plate to Leo, but he shook his head. “I went to Grimaldi’s with Silas. He said I needed initiation into the Brooklyn pizza cult.”
“Nice. You can lord it over DJ, too.”
Leo grinned. “My brother, the pizza snob. Can’t believe you two have kept in touch. That’s cool.”
“I love that kid,” Georgia admitted.
Georgia took a bite of her first dumpling, and it got quiet between them. There had been many times during the past six years when she’d imagined how nice it would be to have Leo sitting beside her on the sofa. Now that he was actually here, she didn’t know what to say. The silence felt heavy, and it gave her a twinge of nerves. Maybe there was only so much separation a relationship could bear before it collapsed under its own weight.
“This is a spectacularly ugly couch,” Leo offered.
Smiling at him, Georgia relaxed by a couple degrees. “We call it the Beast. No uglier upholstery has ever been sighted this side of the Rockies. But it’s comfortable as hell.”
He lifted his eyebrows suggestively. “I’ll bet.”
Georgia felt her neck get hot. “Can I put on a movie?”
“Sure. Anything you want.” He put a hand on her knee.
“Even a chick flick?” she teased.
Her knee received a squeeze. “I really miss you, Gigi. If you’re going to let me crash your Friday night, you can put on My Little Pony for all I care.”
“Let’s not get carried away.” She chose Working Girl, which she knew by heart, and sat back to watch the opening montage. The camera swept past the Statue of Liberty and New York Harbor. There were glimpses of the very Brooklyn shoreline where she and Leo now sat. And she’d always had a thing for Carly Simon’s anthem about chasing dreams. This was her go-to pick for the evening after a tough week.
The weight of Leo’s hand on her leg was almost as delicious as the dumplings she munched. She was living out her fantasy right now—holed up with Leo at home after a long day.
When she finished eating, Leo paused the film so she could clear her plate. She stopped on her way to the kitchen. “Can I bring you a drink? I say that not knowing what the choices are. I’ve been out of town . . .” That and they rarely had visitors. But she kept that to herself.
“I brought a six-pack,” he said, holding up his empty bottle. “I noticed you don’t drink.”
“I drink at home,” she argued, taking the empty from him. Though she never felt like drinking in public. A rape survivor was never supposed to blame herself for what had happened, and Georgia didn’t. Many hours of therapy had made it clear that the only one responsible for a rape was the rapist. But that didn’t mean she was comfortable with the idea of losing control in a place where she was vulnerable . . .
Leo studied her, his head tilted to the side, as if considering whether he wanted to ask a follow-up question. “Bring two, then,” he said instead. And then his mouth curved into a smile that made her knees feel a little squishy.
She retreated to the kitchen to rinse her plate. The weirdness of having Leo back in her life hadn’t worn off yet, even if he seemed immune to discomfort. You’re mine, Georgia Worthington. In between phone calls at work today, those words had bounced around in her head. They were exciting and more than a little terrifying. She wanted him. And there was little doubt in her mind where the night was headed. If Leo wanted to take her to bed, she wasn’t about to say no.
But she wasn’t quite as sure as he was that they were embarking on a forever-night-stand. She’d used the word “forever” with Leo before, and life had gotten in the way. She wasn’t that naive anymore. There weren’t any promises that couldn’t be broken, even by people as wonderful as Leo.
She uncapped two beers and brought them to the living room. “The Brooklyn Brewery, huh?” she asked, handing one over.
“When in Rome,” he said, patting the sofa cushion next to him.
Georgia started the movie again, hip to hip with Leo. After they finished their beers, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her back to his chest. As the film progressed, he spread one big hand across her stomach. His fingers began to gently caress her ribcage. The light touch made her shiver.
Those naughty fingertips continued their ministrations, and then his thumb traced the swell of each breast. Georgia began to tingle everywhere. It wasn’t long before she lost track of the film, her attention focused entirely on his touch, until her breasts felt heavy and overly sensitive in the confines of her bra.
But Leo’s attention was on the screen, and he continued to laugh in all the right places, even as his fingers dipped lower. He skimmed the ticklish part of her belly, making her stomach muscles clench. Then his hand slid down between her legs and he just let it rest there, its heat seeping through the black skirt she’d worn to work today. Waiting.
She forgot to exhale. And when his hand finally retreated, she let out a shaky breath.
“I like this part,” Leo said.
“Wha?” Her eyes swam over to the screen, where Melanie Griffith was at the bar wearing Sigourney Weaver’s dress. Harrison Ford paid her a compliment. And when everyone’s favorite working girl said, “I have a head for business and a bod for sin,” Leo echoed the line into Georgia’s ear.