Chapter 14

Iwasn't sure why I felt so nervous, but as I stood in the center of my living room, turning a slow circle to inspect everything, I couldn't ignore the way my heart banged around inside my chest like a pinball.

I'd had what I called low-grade anxiety all day long at the thought of Vaughn coming to my house so we could discuss this fake relationship we'd agreed to. It had been a test for my sanity having him in my office the day before. The thought of him being in my home made my skin tingle and my blood pump too fast. Those red cells were shooting through my veins like the cars at the Indy 500. Tarryn and Ryan hadn't missed it either, and those jerks had gotten a real kick out of teasing me mercilessly. They knew the truth about my and Vaughn's little stratagem, but they'd been sworn to secrecy, and I trusted they would take the truth to their graves. That didn't mean they weren't going to give me hell about my new boyfriend in the meantime.

I'd raced home from work an hour early so I had enough time to get dinner started, then spent the better part of the evening cleaning my house from top to bottom until I could see my reflection in every surface.

The lasagna was done, the garlic bread was warming in the oven and filling the house with the most incredible smells, and I'd mixed up a fresh salad that was waiting in the fridge to be pulled out. I'd even stopped off at Sinful Sweets for some of Chloe's delicious mini chocolate tarts for dessert.

I couldn't tell you why I'd pulled out all the stops the way I had, I hadn't been able to stop myself. But as the minutes ticked closer to the time Vaughn was set to arrive, I started to question everything. What if he didn't like pasta or had some kind of gluten or dairy allergy? What if the candles I lit simply because I loved candles made the whole vibe feel too romantic? What if he took one look at my house and thought small and unimpressive?

Smoosh came traipsing in, plopping down on her furry ass and staring at me with those judgmental yellow eyes.

"Don't look at me like that," I scolded. "I would have done all of this for any guest I had coming over."

She blinked. We both knew I was lying. For the most part, my house stayed pretty clean, and every Sunday I scrubbed and dusted and mopped. But if it had been my parents or friends coming over, I would have already been dressed in my pajamas, having lost my bra the moment I walked through the door, and the stack of mail that had been sitting on my kitchen island still would have been there, along with last night's dishes that had been "soaking" in the sink all day.

I narrowed my eyes at my critical cat. "Please. Like you have any right to judge me. You clean your private parts right out in the open for everyone to see."

As if to prove she didn't give a single shit, she hiked her back leg straight in the air and started bathing herself, her kitty way of giving me the middle finger, I was sure.

"Stop that. And you better be on your best behavior tonight. You didn't exactly make us look good last time. I've tried talking you up, but he's still skeptical, so I expect you to put your best foot forward."

I must have gotten through to her, really made her feel guilty, because she stood up and moved closer, arching her back and rubbing herself against my legs as she made a figure eight between my feet, purring like she was the most loving, docile feline in all the world. Bending down, I scooped her into my arms and lifted her up, snuggling her into my chest.

"I can't stay mad at you when you get all cute like that. Who's Mommy's wittle smoosh face, huh? Are you my wittle smoosh face?"

Just then the doorbell rang, sending a shockwave through me like the earth had moved beneath my feet. I closed my eyes and pulled in a breath through my nose, counting to ten to get my pulse under control. This was ridiculous. I usually only felt like this when I was getting ready for a first date, and that couldn't have been further from the case tonight. This wasn't a date. This was... a strategy session. There was no reason for me to be such a massive jumble of nerves.

The bell rang again, jolting me back into reality and telling me I'd been standing frozen for too long.

"Be right there," I called out, bending to put Smoosh back on the floor. I headed toward the door, brushing at the front of my shirt to get rid of the cat hair. I'd opted for casual tonight, changing into a pair of loose-fitting jeans that were cropped at the ankle and had a frayed hem. I paired it with a gray scoop-neck tank with a drawing of a sunrise that I half tucked at the front. I'd decided to go barefoot so it didn't seem I was trying too hard—counting myself lucky I'd gotten a pedicure earlier in the week—but had refreshed my makeup and hair as soon as I got home.

With one last deep, cleansing breath, I grabbed hold of the knob, pulled the door open, and got my first glimpse of Vaughn Cavanaugh standing on my front porch. And it was enough to make my mouth drier than the Sahara.

Once again, he was in a suit—today's was black with a white button-down beneath. He'd forgone a tie, leaving the collar unbuttoned just enough to give me the smallest peek of that divot at the base of his throat between his clavicles. I never thought of that spot on a man as sexy. Until right then.

His suit jacket was brushed back so he could put his hands in the pockets of his slacks, putting his trim waist on display, and if I cocked my head to the side and squinted, I was certain I could see the outline of ab muscles beneath the fabric of his shirt.

"Are you going to invite me in or am I going to have to stand here all night while you leer at me?"

That sure as hell snapped me out of it. I lifted my eyes to his face. His lips were in a flat line, but I saw the humor dancing in his gaze and glared. "I wasn't leering, jackass. I was wondering if you owned any kind of clothing other than suits. Be honest, you sleep in them too, don't you?"

"Of course not. I sleep in pajamas that have a suit screen printed on the front. Kind of like those tuxedo T-shirts."

My lips spread into a smile as a snort of laughter rattled up my throat. "You're ridiculous," I said with a good-natured shake of my head. "Come on in. You're right on time. Dinner is ready."

He stepped across the threshold, and I didn't miss the way his head turned from side to side, taking everything in as he slipped the jacket off his arms and folded it over the back of my couch. "It smells good in here."

I rolled my eyes. "You don't have to sound so surprised about it. Not to brag or anything, but I'm a pretty decent cook. My mom made sure of that."

I thought I caught a hint of interest in his eyes as he looked at me. "She taught you to cook?"

"Yep. Starting as soon as I was old enough to reach the stove. I helped her with dinner most nights. I'm not good enough to open my own restaurant or anything, but I know my way around a kitchen well enough that I'm not stuck eating the same five meals every week or living on takeout." I led him into the kitchen and grabbed the oven mitt I'd discarded earlier so I could take the garlic bread out of the oven. "I hope you like lasagna. I didn't think about asking if you have any food allergies. Sorry about that."

"No allergies. And I like lasagna just fine."

I looked over my shoulder and smiled as I used a bread knife to slice the flaky bread into symmetrical slices, only to have the air squeezed out of my lungs when I caught his eyes lingering on my ass before they flicked up to my face. He was checking me out. No doubt about it. I whipped back around quickly, hoping he didn't notice that my cheeks were most likely the color of raspberry filling as I transferred the bread into a pretty little basket I found at one of the stands at the local farmer's market a couple years back.

He stepped closer, coming up beside me. "Is there anything I can help with?"

I cleared the frog out of my throat, ducking my head as I worked to shield my burning cheeks from view. "Um, y-yeah." I pointed at the stack of plates and silverware I'd pulled out earlier. "If you could set the table and put the lasagna on the hot pad I placed in the middle that would be great."

I felt his arm brush against my back as he moved past me, despite having plenty of room in the kitchen to prevent that, and had to bite down on my bottom lip to keep from smiling. While he moved into the dining area, I rushed to the fridge and yanked it open, sticking my overheated face into the cold box in the hope of cooling my skin down before I gave myself away.

"Get it together," I whispered to myself. "He's just some guy, and this isn't a real date."

"Anything else I can do?"

I let out a squeak at the sound of his voice, jumping in fright and banging my elbow on the shelf holding my coffee creamer and milk. "Ow, damn it!"

"You okay?"

I shook my arm out and pasted on a smile as I grabbed the salad bowl and turned around. "Yep. I'm great. Just getting the salad." My gaze darted away from his, but not before I caught the arch in his brow that told me he knew I was full of shit. "Would you mind grabbing the bread?"

With the basket in hand, he followed me into the dining area right off the living room. I'd already set out a bottle of wine and wineglasses, as well as water before he arrived. "If you don't want wine or water, I've got beer and iced tea."

"Wine is fine. Thank you."

We sat down, silence descending on us as we plated our food. It was starting to feel awkward when Vaughn surprised me by cutting the tension and asking, "That demon cat of yours isn't going to attack me again, is it?"

I shot him a murderous look. "Smoosh isn't a demon cat. And no, she's in a pretty good mood today, so I'd say you're safe."

He added a helping of salad to his plate before doing the same to mine without me having to ask. The move certainly didn't make my heart flutter. Not one damn bit.