Page 34 of What Happened Last Night

“I get a break on rent because my aunt owns it,” I explained. “It means I’ll never move. I’ll die in this apartment.”

“What a bleak thought,” he said mildly. He turned in place, and with his back to me and his weight on one hip, I had a perfect view of the butt in jeans that I wasn’t supposed to be thinking about. I went momentarily stupid. “At least you’ll die cozy,” he commented, oblivious to the puddle of lust forming between my legs. “That’s an achievement in life.”

“Right,” I stammered, pushing the button on the coffee maker. I’d never had a man in my apartment before, for the aforementioned Reggie reasons. Even when I was dating someone, I preferred that my aunt not overhear every interaction I had with my boyfriend.

But with his back to me, I took a second to appreciate just how good Will looked in my space. Masculine and elegant, his lean body in that easy pose. Will had a contained self-confidence that didn’t overwhelm a room but was unmistakable once you noticed it. He was comfortable in his own skin. He didn’t need to talk too much or too loudly. He didn’t need to brag or put people down to prove himself. Will didn’t play games, and to me, that was incredibly sexy.

Also, those jeans. The way they fit. The black sweater. The watch. I stood silent, staring my fill, until he started to turn toward me and I jerked my gaze away.

“Luna,” he said, and he was about to say something else, but I held up a hand.

“Be quiet,” I said. “I heard a door.”

His brows drew down, but I knew what I’d heard. Reggie was home. She was downstairs, and I had my gorgeous boss in my apartment.

I sped across the room toward him and grabbed him by the forearms. “Don’t talk,” I hissed. “If she hears you—”

“Luna?” Reggie’s voice came up the stairs from the front door. “Are you here? Who’s here?”

I pushed my perplexed boss, making him walk backward as I steered him. I looked around for somewhere to hide him.

“What—” he started.

“Shh.” I pushed him out of the living room, but the only other room in my apartment besides the bathroom was my bedroom. If Reggie came in, she might use the bathroom, so I couldn’t hide him in here. The bedroom it was.

Will whispered as he walked backward. “Where are we going?”

“Just follow my lead,” I hissed back, “and don’t make a sound.” My aunt would be suspicious if I closed the bedroom door. So I pushed Will through the room to the bedroom closet and shoved him inside, all the way to the back. Hangers clanged around our heads.

This was awful. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, “but if Reggie sees you here, she and my mother will have us having babies before nightfall. Trust me.”

He didn’t answer. For a second we stood there in the semi-darkness, face to face, my hands on his forearms. He was warm, the sweater soft. It was cashmere. I caught his clean, crisp scent, and I had the crazy urge to close the closet door behind us, forget about my aunt, and kiss him.

I heard him inhale a breath. His arms tensed beneath my hands. And for a second—a brief, wonderful, amazing second—I believed he was thinking the same thing.

There was a knock at my front door. “Luna?” Reggie said.

I took a final inhale, so I’d have a dose of his scent to remember later. “Be quiet,” I repeated, as I backed out and closed him in.

I hurried back out to the living room, then opened my door. “Hi, Reggie.”

My aunt had a suspicious look on her face. Her graying brown hair was cut in a neat bob, and she was wearing black pants and a jean jacket. There were grocery bags at the bottom of the stairs, because she’d been shopping.

“Do you have someone over?” she asked. “I heard a voice.”

“No,” I said. “No one is here.”

“It was a man.” She brushed past me and stood in the living room, right where Will had stood thirty seconds ago. “I’m sure I heard a man.”

What had she heard? Will had barely spoken. How the heck did she do that? “You can see there’s no one,” I said, gesturing around the room.

“You had a man here, Luna. I didn’t know you were seeing anyone. Is it serious?”

And so it began. “I’m not. Maybe you heard my, er, Uber driver. He was making sure I got in okay.”

That made her even more suspicious, if possible. She swiveled to stare at me. “You took an Uber? Why? Your car is parked outside. It works just fine. And why in the world would you invite him in?”

“He didn’t come in,” I argued. I’d picked this story, so I had to run with it. “I took an Uber today because I was, um, drinking.”

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