Home > It's Complicated (Her Billionaires #5)(50)

It's Complicated (Her Billionaires #5)(50)
Author: Julia Kent

The dread was brief, though—the thought of Alex rushed over her like some sort of antidote. She imagined Alex’s mother, pictured her normal and nice, a professional, who didn’t walk around wearing clothes that were two sizes too small, six-inch “come f**k me” pumps, or eyeliner so thick you’d think that a road crew had applied it with a line painter.

“No problem, Mom,” she said, smiling. It was a sick grin, one that came from her out of a place of security of knowing that Marlene couldn’t see it. Her phone flashed, some number she didn’t recognize. “Hey, Mom, I gotta go, there’s somebody on my other line, it might be work.”

“Okay, hon, well, you take care and I’ll just look out for the check.”

“Yep, bye, Mom.” Click. She flashed over. “Hello?”

“Josie,” said a warm, deep voice.

Oh, how she needed this. It was as if he had read her mind and called to rescue her at the exact perfect moment. Gratitude flooded her, along with desire and need. “Alex,” she said, “how great to hear your voice.”

“That’s the kind of welcome I like.” The sound of him was filled with a smile, a happiness that infused her. “How are you doing?” he asked softly.

“I would be doing a lot better if I were with you,” she said, the words coming out effortlessly. No anxiety, no nervousness, just a drained sort of honesty that she found very appealing within herself.

“I would love to be with you, too,” he said quietly, a pensiveness to his words. “Do you want to go for a walk?” he asked.

“A real walk, or a walk?” she said, adding affect to the second phrase. If he’d been in the room with her he’d have seen her put quotation marks around it.

A boisterous laugh filled her phone, forcing her to pull it away from her ear a few inches. “I don’t know…you tell me what I should say.”

“How about we start with a walk and then see if later on we could go for a walk.”

“I’d like that, Josie. I like you.”

If he had said “I love you,” she’d have run screaming in the other direction, but his simple “I like you” was better. Seconds ticked by; her brain paused as she just felt how good he was, how comfortable they could be together, and how this was a layer of life that she didn’t even know she had wanted. Finally, she said, “I like you, too.”

She could hear the smile in his words as he said, “Want to come over? We can have a glass of wine here and then go for a walk.”

“We will never get to the actual walk part, Alex, if I come over.”

“And that would be a problem because…?”

“Because you invited me for a walk!”

“Then I am uninviting you. There. You are not invited for a walk. Come over for a glass of wine instead. 34 Windsor. C’mon.”

“You really do live close to me!” By her calculations, his apartment was about two blocks away.

“I know. If I squint and get a pair of u-bend binoculars and angle seven mirrors with SETI-like precision, I still can’t see in your bedroom window.”

Silly. She needed silly right now. Silly drove Marlene’s acidity away. “Bummer,” she replied, yawning.

“You tired?” he asked. The sound of ice cracking filled the phone, then water pouring. “I have a bed you could sleep on.”

“If I am in your bed, sleep is the last thing we’d do.”

“Yes, it is. The last thing after plenty of others.”

Was this an invitation for sex and for an overnight? Could Dr. Perfect be calling in a booty call? Or had the relationship shifted, a casual approach to dating evolving into a more relaxed way of meeting up?

“On the count of three,” she said.

“Oh, God, I have to chase you again, don’t I?” he groaned. “Let me put on my shoes.”

“On the count of three,” she repeated, “let’s run and see where we meet.”

“You’re not wearing panties, are you?”

“Yes, I am.”

“I meant only panties.”

“No. Why?”

“Because the last time you sprinted away from me, that’s how you were dressed. Now—GO!” Click. He hadn’t waited for her count of three!

Completely unnerved, yet tremendously excited, she ran to the front door, grabbing her keys off a hook next to the door, sliding her feet into Crocs. Josie ran with about as much grace as a zombie in a 5K run. Only slower. Alex was practically at her doorstep by the time they met in the “middle.”

“Half a block? That’s the best you could do?” he asked, laughing. She wore a short camisole that was stretched taut against her middle. He patted it, palm flat against her ribs and belly, the gesture affectionate and thrilling. “You have a runner’s body,” he said, his face screwed up in a puzzled expression as she glared at him. “Don’t you run?”

“Only when the ice cream truck passes by.”

A big, slow grin spread across his face. One hand staying on her stomach, the other sliding around her waist, their torsos pulling together inch by inch as they stood on the sidewalk, a welcoming embrace slow enough to savor. On tiptoes, her heels popped out of her Crocs and her calves elongated, all so she could bury her face in his shoulder and inhale. He smelled like soap and spice, and as he pulled back to kiss her, tension from her call with Marlene melted out of her fast.

This was a kiss between boyfriend and girlfriend, an assumption of access that seemed so natural, as if they’d been dating for months and of course they would greet each other so effortlessly with an embrace and a kiss. Gentle caresses of her waist and back twinned with a not-so-tender kiss, tongues dancing, increasing in urgency and desire.

“Get a room,” an old man muttered, a rattling sound accompanying the jarring words. They pulled apart to find a homeless dude pushing a bent shopping cart, the metal frame overloaded with twenty or so overloaded bags filled with five-cent returnable cans. Sidestepping the cart, she and Alex wiped the kiss away, taking a deep breath as the guy passed.

“We should take his advice,” Alex said, looping her arm through his, leading her away from her apartment.

“Do you always listen to homeless men?”

“Only when they give me sex toy tips,” he deadpanned.

“Oh, dear,” was all she could respond with. “You make going back to your place so appealing.”

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