Page 19 of Romancing the Rude Guy

Breasts that my head rested upon just yesterday when she hugged me. At the time it took every ounce of my willpower not to nuzzle my face against them or reach up to palm one.

She’s in a dress similar to the one she was wearing on our first date. This one is a deep pink that highlights her creamy skin, blonde hair, and bright blue eyes. She’s beyond beautiful and as a numbers’ man I find myself incapable of expressing the overwhelming feelings she’s stirring within me.

“Marcus? Can I come in?”

Gulping, I nod and back up, giving her space to enter.

Her gaze roams around the room and suddenly it’s important that she finds my home as warm, comfortable, and inviting as I do. Because I can envision us spending a lot of time here together.

“Let me give you the tour,” I say, propelling myself around her and heading to the living room. I skip the bedrooms but show her the living room, dining room, where the nearest bathroom is, and end the mini tour in the kitchen where I have steaks and chicken marinating.

“Did you buy the place like this?” she asks, running a hand along the granite countertop that’s low enough for her to sit on, but at the perfect height for me to work at.

There’re no cabinets under the counters like there would be in a regular kitchen to allow me to roll right up to the counter, almost like it was a table. It’s perfectly functional for me, but for someone of average height or slightly taller than average, like Alice, they would strain their backs bending over to use the counter for anything more than occasional use.

“Everything was designed to be accessible for me,” I say, waving my hand around. I head over to the fridge, which has twin doors with a drawer-style freezer compartment on the bottom. “See?” I say, demonstrating how I have to open the freezer from the side.

Closing that. I go to the stainless-steel dishwasher next, which is set up higher than regular models. “This lessens the strain from bending.”

“Oh wow,” she breathes, walking around the fully open and assessable space. She stops at the oven which has controls in the front and features a side opening door.

“It’s so I don’t have to reach in as far. A conventional oven has the door opening downward, right where I am. I either have to come in from the side and reach over, risking burning myself or foolishly try to reach over the open door, again risking a nasty burn.”

“So much thought goes into this. I had no idea.”

I grin. “Neither did I until I needed it.” Shrugging, I wheel over to the sink, wash my hands, and then grab the platter with our chicken. “I didn’t know which you would prefer, so we have both chicken and steak.”

“You’re in luck. I happen to like both.”

I stick the pan of chicken in my lap and wheel over to the oven that’s been preheated, sliding it in and closing the door. The salad, I made ahead of time, is chilling in the fridge.

“Would you like wine, cola, or something else?”

Shrugging, she smiles. “I’ll take whatever you’re having.”

“Water it is.”

Fetching two glasses, I fill them at the fridge’s water dispenser. Alice scurries over and takes the glasses from me. I could have handled it, but I thank her.

“We have a few minutes before I start grilling the steaks. Why don’t we head into the living room?”

Nodding, Alice follows behind me and passes me my glass before taking a seat on the couch. Knowing I need to tend to our meal, I stay in my chair versus transferring to the couch with her.

“You have a lovely home, Marcus,” she says softly, holding her water glass and gazing about the room.

This room isn’t much different from anyone else’s, and I think that helps her relax as I see her settling back against the couch.

“Thank you.”

Silence hums between us and my eyes trail over her, lingering on the length of her long, sleek legs. She has flat shoes on, and it makes me grin.

“Don’t like heels?” I ask.

Startled, she has that deer in the headlights look and she’s so adorable that I chuckle.

“Despite what you may think, I don’t mind women being taller than me. My ten-year-old nephew is almost taller than me.”

“Maybe I didn’t feel like wearing heels, smart guy,” she says, uncrossing her legs and leaning forward.

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