Page 73 of A Ticking Time Boss

I chuckle and reach out to clip her softly under the chin. “Not that, spitfire. Though it can be arranged.”

Definitely, absolutely, willingly arranged.

She blushes. “Right.”

The car takes us through the city, back into Manhattan and toward the Village. She seemed like the type to want lowkey dates. Ones where we could get to know one another, ones where we didn’t risk anyone seeing us.

She catches on as soon as Tom stops outside my building. The doorman, recognizing the car, opens her door.

“Carter…?” she asks.

I put a hand on her lower back. “Remember how you wanted a man to cook dinner with?”

“Vaguely, yes. I said that, right?”

“You definitely did. Well, tonight’s your night.”

“We’re going to your apartment,” she says in a half-whisper.

“Either that, or I’ve rented an impressive hotel room to impress you. You’ll have to guess when you see it.”

She slaps me softly on the chest. I almost reach up to grab her slim hand and press it there for good. “Fool,” she says.

“Always. Come on. The elevator is this way.”

She’s quiet on the ride up and the silence turns expectant. I haven’t invited someone into my apartment in a long time. There was a time when afterparties were common. Even a time when I’d give women I was seeing access recklessly, relentlessly, asking them to be there waiting for me after I came back from work. I think we’d both enjoyed the ridiculousness of the notion. The fake sophistication and the play at a relationship both of us knew wasn’t real.

Those days are long gone. It was superficiality and recklessness, and Audrey deserves neither of those things. This, in contrast, feels so real it threatens to break me.

“Oh,” she breathes, stepping into the hallway. She looks small beneath the high ceiling. “You have a loft apartment.”

“It’s a bit industrial, perhaps, but it has great lighting.”

Her voice is filled with awe. “There’s no way to undersell this place, you know.”

“So I shouldn’t bother trying?”

“No.” She stops in the center of the grand space and spins around slowly, taking in the giant windows, the curved couch, the open-planned kitchen. It would probably fit ten of her apartments.

“Like it?” I ask.

Her smile is teasing. “It’s okay. But there’s no scent of mold, and Carter, you don’t have a fire escape.”

I shake my head at her and cross the space. Her smile turns into a grin and she backs up, trying to escape, but my couch expertly blocks the way. It’s a two-player effort. She’s still laughing when I kiss her, like wildfire in my arms.

I’m dazed when I finally raise my head and there’s a pit of heated need burning in my stomach. Every luscious curve of her in my arms is like holding a live ember… One about to ignite.

Audrey’s hand slides down to curve around mine and she pulls me toward the kitchen. “Can I get a full tour?”

“Uh, yeah. Yes. Let me show you around.”

“So this is the living room.”

“Yes. This here is a kitchen. I think, but I’m rarely here.”

She snorts. “Of course not.”

“Home office is in there,” I say, pointing to one of the rooms off the corridor. “Guest bedroom, guest bath, and here…”

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