10. Nate

TEN

NATE

Our fingers brush when I take the blue checkered towel from her, and even though we shook hands when she answered the door, this feels like so much more.

Rosalyn turns away, giving me her back as she moves to grab another towel off the counter.

Her work clothes are sexier than they have any right to be. The head-to-toe black. The stretchy pants that hug every inch of her ass and hips but are loose down her legs. The scoop-neck T-shirt that clings… to everything. The no-nonsense ponytail.

I shift my stance and take another drink of my champagne.

I'm not a creep.

I won't act like a creep.

I won't get a boner until the appropriate time.

"Where do we start?" I try to sound casual and not like I'm being choked with lust.

She faces me, then bends down and pulls the dishwasher open.

A plume of steam fills the space between us, and it makes Rosalyn appear like she's from a dream.

Or a long-ago memory.