Page 20 of Cloud Storm

The way he looks… Jesus, take control of my overheated hormones!

“What do you want?” I ask. Just for the record, in gratitude for what he did last night for me, I’m ignoring the use I had for the pan in my hands.

“Good morning, Little Mermaid,” he says cheerfully. Damn nickname, it reminds me of what happened that day in his office. “I came to invite you to have breakfast with me, but it seems that you have already anticipated me. What’s on the menu?”

He smiles and my panties fall to the floor, I swear. I have had nothing to do with it. The problem must be the cologne that he wears, it must contain some magical concoction.

A libido waker. That must be it.

“Thin slices of air with a side of get the hell out of here. Don’t even think I’m going to cook for you.”

“Invite me in, or you’ll leave me waiting in the hallway while you get decent to go out.”

“I’m not going out with you,” I say. “I’m too angry, plus, I’m sleepy and want to go back to my bed. It’s calling me and I don’t intend to make it beg, we have a very special relationship.”

“Are you insinuating any improper proposals?”

I groan in pure frustration, this man is impossible.

“In your dreams, papi, you go to your bed and I’ll go back to mine.”

“My bed is fine and all, but I’m hungry. I want to have breakfast and I’d prefer if I wasn’t alone while doing so.”

“Well, that’s easy enough. Call one of your friends. I’m pretty sure they’ll be more than happy to be in your delightful trope.”

“I’d rather be with you. Hurry up, I become a tyrant when I’m hungry.”

I gasp, then cross my arms across my chest and give him a withering look.

“Only when you’re hungry? That’s the excuse for your rude behavior toward me? I expected more from you, Suit.”

“Listen, Ariel, that’s why I’m here,” he begins to say, looking anywhere except my face. For a moment I feel uncomfortable, because his gaze falls on my legs.

Until now, I had forgotten that my pajamas aren’t the right outfit to greet guests. Even when they are unexpected.

“I know I behaved like a jerk at the bank, it was unprofessional and clearly rude…”

“Wait.” He’s actually apologizing? This I have to hear, but it’s not a conversation to have out in the hallway. “Come in, I’ll give you a bottle of water, that way I’ll be sure you won’t choke on your own words.”

I smile at him in an attempt at lightening things, but he doesn’t do the same. He just stares at me, very fixedly, as if he wants to uncover more than he already knows about me.

“Coffee?” I ask as he follows me into the kitchen.

“Thank you.” I have the impression that he’s thanking me for much more than a cup of coffee.

“I have carrot cake. I made it last night, just before leaving for the party.”

“And I thought I would take you to eat pancakes for breakfast,” he laments.

“Well, you can always take me for lunch later, I know a place close to the bay that you’ll love. They serve fish and chips, the best in town.”

I have cravings. Not just for food. But I keep that to myself.

My voice reflects the enthusiasm I feel. This may be a new beginning and as such, I have to lay a good foundation. In addition, Seaport Village is my favorite place here in the city, although I don’t go there very often.

Before, I couldn’t afford it and now, well, I don’t know why I don’t go even though I have free time on Sundays and Mondays, when the bakery is closed.

“What are you going to do with me until lunchtime?”

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