Page 11 of The Wish List
“Why are you doing this?” she whispered.
I pulled her into my arms and kissed her deeply. Until she was whimpering and shaking in my arms. Then I pulled back, resting my forehead against hers.
“That’s why.”
“Okay, then. Just checking,” she replied.
I turned her and swatted her ass. “Go before your son comes back and catches us.”
I tried not to laugh as she walked into the sofa, then stumbled down the hall to the bathroom.
I picked up the bags, feeling somewhat light-headed myself.
* * *
Rosie shook her head as she finished the omelet and toast I had made. Once again, I noticed her love of the warm bread. I had bought extra butter, putting it in her refrigerator, assuming it was a treat she didn’t get very often. I had, in fact, added a lot of things I had picked up “by accident” while getting the items I needed for breakfast.
“You like toast.”
She blushed slightly, biting into another piece. “I love it. I always have. Just toast and butter. Nothing else. It’s comfort food to me.”
“You’re in need of comforting right now?” I asked with a frown.
AJ laughed from the spot on the floor where he sat, cross-legged and enjoying cartoons. Rosie had told me she only allowed him an hour of screen time every day except the weekends. “He loves cartoons, and my neighbor is kind enough to let me use her Disney+ sign-in. I let him watch some shows, and we often watch a movie together,” she explained.
“Comforting?” she replied. “No, but I’m wondering why a wealthy philanthropist is sitting at my old kitchen table after making me breakfast. It’s a little disconcerting.” She met my gaze. “I don’t really understand this thing between us.”
“I don’t either,” I confessed. “This isn’t my usual MO.”
She sat back, picking up her coffee cup. “What is?” she asked, her voice teasing. But I saw the flash of worry in her gaze and felt her tension. “Five-star restaurants, ballroom dancing, and quick trips to the islands with leggy blondes after a long week of making millions?”
I dropped my head in laughter at her words.
“First off, no to the ballroom dancing. Not a fan. Second, my days and evenings usually consist of me and my laptop, working, listening to my assistant call me a tyrant and a bore because I rarely leave the office.” I shook my head. “My meals are normally what my housekeeper leaves me or takeout. As for the leggy blondes, those were around on occasion before, but lately, I much prefer the company of clever, sexy redheads who let me cook them breakfast.”
“Why?” she whispered.
“Because I think she is fascinating. Strong. Beautiful. Inspiring.”
She blinked.
“I assume you’re not used to being thought of that way.”
“Well, AJ thinks I’m awesome—most of the time. But other than that, no.”
“Get used to it.”
She worried at the plump flesh of her mouth with her teeth. I leaned forward, pulling her lip away from the self-inflicted torture. “I want to kiss that lip later,” I murmured. “Stop hurting it.”
Her eyes widened, and I tried not to groan as she kissed the end of my finger that rested lightly on her bottom lip.
“Why me?” she whispered.
“Why not you?”
“There is nothing special about me.”
“I totally disagree on that. I think you’re very special.”
