A Friendly Arrangement Page 7

  And again.

  Admit it. You’re hot for your bestie.

  She had been for a while.

  Holly danced around the kitchen as a surge of adrenaline mixed with excitement pulsed through her. She definitely didn’t need another cup of coffee.

  Even though Roth wasn’t her usual type, there was just something about him. His voice—oh yeah, deep, rich, and totally sexy. His eyes—I could drown in the blue depths. His body. A tingle ran straight from her head to her toes. She squirmed and shook out her limbs, as if that would erase the sensations, and then pulled her coffee mug from the machine and stirred in three drops of Stevia.

  Maybe she didn’t really know her own type. Or had she just discovered it? She pursed her lips, staring up at the ceiling as she continued to stir. What would he do if she suggested they up the ante on their arrangement and add a friends with bennies clause?

  If only.

  She tapped the spoon against the side of her mug, then for good measure licked the edge before dropping it into the sink. If only she weren’t too chicken to bring it up. How would Roth react? They definitely shared an attraction. Otherwise he’d never have kissed her, and she’d never have allowed it to continue.

  But if they added sex to the arrangement, they’d only be asking for complications. Could their friendship handle something like that?

  Her head told her to forget it, but her body urged her to go for it. The ding of her phone made her jump, and she picked it up to find a text from Roth.

  On my way over. Have coffee.

  She plucked another K-Cup from the kitchen drawer and grabbed her newly purchased Superman mug from the cupboard. Butterflies circled the pit of her belly at the idea of seeing him before she’d sorted out her feelings. Not that she felt nervous or hesitant, but more curious with a hint—okay, an avalanche—of excitement. She wanted to see him again. She needed to know if that pull of attraction existed in the light of day, or if everything she’d felt last night had been because of the stars, moon, and all the stresses piled on her in less than a twenty-four hour time frame. Not to mention he’d been kind of sexy—in a metro-cavemanish type of way—when he’d come to her rescue.

  After all, breaking up with Clark, losing her biggest client, and fearing a confrontation with her family could’ve thrown her good sense over the balcony. Maybe everything had jumbled together and had landed on Roth in the form of sexual confusion.

  And culminated in an amazing kiss.

  She slapped her hand over her mouth to block out her giggle. This is just Roth. Calm down.

  But she had a feeling last night’s attraction wasn’t anything fleeting. And it definitely wasn’t new. She glanced at her door in anticipation. Her skin felt on fire, and she tingled at the thought of hearing the throb of his intense voice.

  She’d always found him attractive, but not to the point where she’d make a move. But he’d set all her hormones in motion with that amazing kiss last night…

  Shit. She wouldn’t be able to get him out of her mind if she were struck with a brick in the head and diagnosed with amnesia. She’d always pegged him as that hot guy bestie every girl dreamed about. Just there to fantasize about from time to time. But since locking lips, she couldn’t wiggle her way out of her attraction any longer. And she didn’t want to.

  The sound of Roth punching in the code for her keyless entry brought her spiraling back to the moment. He entered with several sheets of paper in his hand. His well-worn jeans hung low on his hips, and the faded tee stretched across the width of his shoulders, begging for her attention. She had no trouble supplying it. Her fingers tingled with the desire to touch him, so instead she gripped her mug tighter. Her gaze followed the lines of his body downward, and she almost lost her hold on the mug when she noticed his bare feet. His sexy toes peeked out from beneath the frayed edges of his jeans. What was it about a barefoot man in jeans that always got her heart racing?

  Check. Attraction still in force.

  His easy stride carried a load of confidence as he crossed the room. A devilish grin favored the left side of his mouth and released a coil wound tight in her belly.

  Hot damn. He’d always been a morning person, but today he made her a morning person, too. She’d never been so alert and awake at this hour—even after one of their morning workouts at the gym.

  She concentrated on his approach, all the while trying to look like she wasn’t. It was a difficult task that she hoped she mastered. His kisses last night had left her hot and full of fantasies about more but, judging by the way he moved, he’d be an even more amazing lover. Her limbs turned to liquid just thinking about the possibilities, and warmth spread to her lady parts. Her dirty little thoughts added more oomph to her smile as she offered him his coffee mug.

  “Morning.” His fingers grazed hers as he took the cup, and a jolt of heat raced up her arm.

  “Morning.” Nothing like being hot for Hot Neighbor Guy and a cup of joe—mingled with her own perverted thoughts—to get her morning adrenaline kicked up another notch.

  Roth took a large swallow, releasing a sigh as he lowered his cup.

  “I might not be able to cook, but from the sounds of it I make a damn good cup of coffee.”

  “You and Keurig are a great team.” He downed another mouthful. “Love the Superman mug. New addition to your collection?” He lifted it so that it was eye level and twisted his wrist to see the entire picture.

  She raised her Wonder Woman mug. “Mugs are courtesy of the costume shop. Half price when you rent a comic book hero costume.” She loved her collection of coffee mugs, now totaling well into the thirties. As if she’d ever need that many at one time.

  “Why would a costume shop sell coffee mugs?”

  Holly shrugged. “Who cares? They had the supply and I had the demand.”

  From over the rim of her mug, she took a slow ride with her eyes down his sturdy terrain. Not only did he have the yummiest chest and most amazing arms—how come she’d never noticed his sinewy strength—but his lean hips seemed to vee straight to the bulge behind his zipper. Another aspect about her friend she’d never noticed before.

  But hell, she noticed it now.

  Did you wake up with a lady boner?

  “When do I need to have that costume back to you?” He leaned against the counter, his gaze burning straight through her.

  She cleared her throat and took another swig of coffee, closing her eyes and picturing kitty cats, rainbows, and sandy beaches. Anything to get her mind off what lay behind Roth’s zipper. “No rush. I got a better deal if I rented them for a few extra days. Go figure.”

  He lowered his cup after draining at least half the liquid. Was it just her, or could the sexual tension swirling between them be any thicker?

  “Sounds good. I’ll bring it over later.” He tossed his papers and cell onto the counter and eyed the cookbook with a surprised frown. “I never expected to see a cookbook in your house. Especially an open one.”

  She licked her lips, fearful she couldn’t hold a normal conversation. Or at least a lengthy one. Get a grip. Control your hormones. And, hell, woman, quit looking at his zipper.

  Holly grabbed the spiral book and flipped it closed, preparing to toss it—and her overabundance of hormones—into the depths of the nearly empty cupboard above her microwave. Roth seized it from between her fingers. He leafed through the pages as she tried to grab it back, but he kept it out of her reach as he spun in a circle, holding the book higher and higher.

  “Give it up.” He laughed.

  She dropped her hands to her sides and huffed. “Don’t get excited. You act like you found me conspiring to actually cook something. I have no intention of using that book. There will be no billowing clouds of smoke in the kitchen ever again.”

  “Sounds like another job for Hot Neighbor Guy.” His voice, low and silky, with a smidgeon of roughness, sent electrical charges through her body.

  Get a hold of yourself.

  “So, what’s
the deal with the cookbook?” He turned the book over as if he’d find the answer on the back cover.

  “My grandma has it in her head that she’s on death’s door again—for the third time in the last year—and wanted to hand down her kitchen legacy. She actually had several copies printed and bound for everyone.” Holly rolled her eyes. Her grandma always had to have some type of drama in her life, and it usually involved her last days on earth.

  “I thought your grandma just got back from a cruise. And isn’t she on the Ping-Pong team at the retirement community?”

  “As well as president of the Happy Hooker’s crochet club. She’s always busy. Death’s door is a long way down the hall for that woman, but she gets crazy ideas in her head, and we all just smile, nod, and indulge.” Holly thrust out her hand for the cookbook, but Roth seemed engrossed in the page detailing Grandma’s banana nut bread.

  “This sounds good. I haven’t had banana bread since I was a kid. My dad…”

  Holly’s heart tugged at the lost look in Roth’s eyes that he quickly concealed. “Your dad what?”

  He cleared his throat and snapped the cookbook closed, handing it over. “Nothing.”

  “Come on, Roth.” Retrieving the cookbook didn’t seem as important now. She put it back on the countertop.

  He rubbed at the frown line between his eyes, and then met her smile with a small one of his own. “One of the few happy memories I have of my dad involved him baking banana bread for all of us boys on Sunday mornings. I was pretty young. I bet Jared doesn’t even remember.”

  His voice haunted her as he bowed his head to avert his gaze. She ached for the little boy he’d been. She touched his arm lightly and reveled in the way his sinewy muscles twitched beneath her hand.

  “That’s a nice memory. Although, from the little I know about your dad, I can’t picture him cooking.”

  His gaze imprisoned hers as he adjusted to full height, the pain mirrored in his eyes moments ago already gone as he reminisced. “Mom wasn’t exactly at home in the kitchen, and my dad couldn’t cook, but he could bake a mean banana bread, and an even meaner cake. Not to mention the best damn cinnamon rolls in the state.”

  His face relaxed and became serene, warming her heart. She loved learning things about people that didn’t seem to go with their personalities. Even though she’d only seen Roth’s father in pictures, he didn’t seem the type to bake banana bread. She liked the contrast, and that Roth had a nice memory.

  “My grandma loved to bake, and everyone in the family inherited the gene.” Except me. I can’t even make a damn cake from a boxed mix.

  “Everyone?” The teasing glint in Roth’s eyes told her he was remembering her cake catastrophe, too.

  The Barbie cake was a horrific event she preferred to erase from her memory. In order to rid her house of the evidence of her failure she’d thrown away the cake pan as well as the burned cake. She’d vowed hell would freeze over before she turned on her oven again. Lucky for her, Roth had come to her rescue yet again and had taken over, and he’d done it with his own cake pan and supplies.

  He rubbed his chin, tilting his head to the side. “I seem to remem—”

  She plucked the bar towel off the hook below the sink and snapped it at his chest, but he jumped to the side, and she missed. “Don’t even say it.” She ran around the counter as he backed up, raising his hands in surrender. Their laughter filled the room.

  “I wasn’t going to say a word.”

  “Liar.” She glared at him with her best ferocious scowl. “Keep it up, and I might change my mind about cooking and give banana bread a go.”

  The sound of his laughter tickled her ears. “Now that threat is scarier than the towel in your hands. But please remember, I already have a full-time job. I can’t rescue you from every kitchen mishap.”

  “Even if I burn the kitchen down in the process, it’ll be worth it to watch you eat my cooking.” The idea of actually giving baking a try seemed appealing all of a sudden. First she wanted to jump her best friend, and now she thought she might bake banana bread? She really may have lost her mind.

  “I’d probably break all my teeth. You’d have to force-feed me.”

  “I’ll do it, too.” She lifted her chin. “And I mean I can bake it and force-feed you.” How hard could banana bread be? Cake had to be ten times harder.

  “Sounds like you want to make a bet?” He held out his hand. “Go for it, but if I have to throw on my Hot Neighbor Guy costume and come to your rescue, you better be prepared to rope off your kitchen and make a promise you won’t try to use the oven again.”

  She laughed, snapping the towel and hitting him squarely in the gut. “You’re on. And if I win…” She tilted her head to the side, pursing her lips. What she’d really like if she won was a hot kiss. One that would lead to something involving heavy breathing and nudity, but she couldn’t go there. Could she?

  “If you win, I’ll eat the damn bread.”

  That sounds a lot safer than my idea.

  She slapped her palm in his, and they shook. “Deal.”

  “Now, enough playing around. I came over here for coffee and to go over the jobs I have for you.” He slid the papers across the counter. “I made a list of what I need you to get started on, and the papers beneath have addresses and other information that you’ll need in order to get things done.”

  “You know, they have computers that hold this information. There’s even something called email, and you could’ve just sent it to me with one click…”

  He tapped his finger on the neon-colored Post-it front and center on the top page. “I prefer my method, thank you very much.” His block letter script filled the paper and looked like it’d been typewritten.

  “You’ve got nice penmanship.” Everything about Roth was perfection. Not just the way he looked, or moved, but his cupboards were always orderly, his spices alphabetized—along with the movies and books lining his shelves in the den—even his sock drawer seemed to be color coded. And now his perfect handwriting.

  Don’t forget the way he kisses.

  “My mom insisted. She liked order and neatness.” He moved the Post-it to the side margin. “The first order of business is sending a donation to the DeVos Children’s Hospital.”

  She grabbed his hand. “I’ve got that, Roth. That was my promise to keep.”

  He squeezed her fingers. “Not a big deal. Let me get this one, you can get the next one after you’re back on your feet.”

  “How come I feel like the loser friend who never buys?”

  “You’re not. Who was it that paid for the last movie?” He poked her on the chin. “You.”

  “There’s a bit of a difference in sending out a check for a large donation”—she swallowed heavily when she noticed the amount he’d written the check for—

  “and buying a ten dollar movie ticket.”

  He jerked his shoulder. “It’ll all even out in the end. Anyway, after you draft the letter to go along with it, I—”

  The vibration of his phone on the counter drew their attention. Roth frowned, and a line of tension creased his forehead as he picked up the phone.

  Holly leaned over his arm to check out the screen, but no name came up, just a number with an unknown area code. “Is that Omar?”

  “Yep.”

  “Just answer it.”

  “I’ll call him back later.”

  “Liar.”

  His thumb moved to send the call to voicemail, and Holly grabbed the phone and swiped the screen, answering the call. “Roth’s phone.” Silence greeted her, and then the person on the other end of the phone cleared his throat.

  “This is Omar, is Roth available?” The deep tone coming across the phone sounded very similar to Roth and made her heart skip a beat. Must be that overly sexy, deep voices ran in the Esterly gene pool.

  “One moment, please,” she said in her best operator voice. She held out the phone toward Roth, and when he didn’t take it, she shook it at him and s
cowled.

  His jaw tightened, and he glared at her as he mouthed something that looked eerily like “you’re gonna pay, or you’re dead to me,” but she didn’t care. Sometimes people needed a quick nudge into doing something that would benefit them in the long run. Even if they didn’t realize it at the time. And talking to his brother would be good for him.

  He snatched the phone from her palm, and she pointed him toward her bedroom so he could have some privacy. When he didn’t argue, she gave herself a mental high five. A conversation between the two brothers might open the door for them to talk things out, heal some wounds, and become friends.

  She leaned in to the counter with a smile hovering around her lips and finished off the last of her now lukewarm coffee. She rolled the empty mug between her palms. No way could she imagine a life without the closeness of her family. It seemed foreign that he didn’t talk to his brothers more often. That they didn’t get together.

  She counted her siblings—her entire family—as some of her closet friends. Even though their overbearing ways could grate on her nerves, she’d be lost without them in her life. Family was the people who knew you best—even if they did try to make you conform to their ways of thinking—people you could count on in the good times and the bad. Those persons who you could argue with one minute—about jobs, futures, and all the stuff that wasn’t their business—but make up the next and never hold a grudge. She wanted Roth to have the same thing. He deserved it. And even though he played tough, she sensed he wanted it, too.

  She rested her weight on one leg and stared out the window across the room. At least he had some type of relationship with his mom and younger brother. And if he needed the support of family he lacked, he could always count on her. Hell, her family would love nothing better than taking Roth under their wings and giving him their support, too. Especially Grams and her mother.

  She smiled to herself. He might even take some of the heat off her and the dreaded Holly’s Husband List.

  Holly rounded the counter and plunked down onto the barstool. She pushed her mug aside as she scanned Roth’s instructions. She tried to block out the muffled voice coming from beneath the closed bedroom door only feet from her. Sometimes living in such a small space sucked. She didn’t try to eavesdrop, but unless she turned on some music or TV, she’d be hard-pressed not to hear at least some of his part of the conversation.