Brazen Bossman: A Hero Club Novel, стр. 50

I burst out laughing at our inside joke.

“Actually, I am. I’m wearing the dusty pink romper I bought from that boutique downtown, and just my white sneakers. I didn’t want to seem like I was trying too hard.”

My phone pings next to my head with an incoming text. I prop up on my elbow so I can see it.

Asshole: I’m at door. Buzz me up.

“Oh yes. That looks so bomb on you.”

“Shit. Kate, I gotta run. He’s here.” I bolt off my bed, taking my phone with me and pressing the button beside my door that unlocks the main entrance downstairs.

“Have fun. Call me if you need anything at all. I’m only a phone call away. Be safe.”

“Always.”

I end the call and toss my phone into my purse on the counter.

In my bedroom, I give myself a quick look in the mirror, fixing the loose braid that hangs over my left shoulder, then gather my bag to go meet him at the door.

His knock is as powerful as he is, and suddenly I realize how happy I am to see him, even though it’s only been less than twenty-four hours.

When I pull the door open and lay eyes on him, he looks good enough to eat.

He’s dressed in a simple pair of jeans, a white tee, and a leather jacket. He even has a pair of Aviator sunglasses hanging from the collar. He looks like a bad boy, greaser from the nineteen fifties who women wanted and men wanted to be.

“Wow,” he whispers, partially under his breath, as his eyes travel up and down my body. “You look incredible.”

“So do you.”

“May I come in?”

“Oh! Absolutely. Come in.” I step aside to give him room, but as soon as he crosses the threshold, he crowds me against the wall and cups my cheek in his hands.

“Hi,” he says before placing a tender kiss on my lips.

I slide my hands into his jacket, holding onto his sides, anchoring myself because I fear I just might float away.

The kiss doesn’t build into anything sexual. It’s simply... hello... I’ve missed you.

I speak when he backs away just enough for me to talk. “Well, hello to you too.”

His fingers glide from my jaw to my braid, twirling through his fingers. “I like this.”

He plants another kiss on my mouth before finally taking a step back, looking around at my apartment, which compared to his is an actual trash can the size of a matchbox, but it’s home.

“I know it’s not much, but…” I say with a shrug.

“It’s you. Simple and quaint. I like it. It even smells like you.”

“Um… thanks, I think.” I follow him as he steps farther into the main living space.

“It was a compliment. You happen to smell intoxicating.”

I reply with a giggle. “Thank you, bodywash, I suppose.”

“Are you ready to hit the road? It shouldn’t take us more than two hours, but you never know with traffic.”

“I am ready.” I lift my overnight bag from the ground, but he takes it from my hands.

“I’ve got it. You just lock up.”

“Yes, sir,” I say with a twist of sarcasm and it makes him laugh.

“Easy with that. I may end up liking it too much.”

After I make sure all of my appliances are turned off and all of my windows are closed and locked, we step out into the hallway so I can lock my door.

Comfortable my place will be just fine for a couple of days, he takes my hand in his free one, walks with me down the stairs, and out to his car parked on the street, only it’s a car I’ve never even seen before.

“Holy shit. What the hell is that?”

I slide my hand over the sexy, white convertible.

“This is a 1969 Stingray Corvette. She is my pride and joy. I only pull her out of the garage for special occasions,” he says with pride, as he pops my bag into a small compartment behind the passenger seat, as there is no back seat at all.

“I don’t even think I should be sitting in this car, Nathanial. This is incredible.”

“That’s silly. You belong in a car like this: classic, expensive, sexy. In fact, the thought of you sitting in this car with me is enough to get me going,” he jokes, then opens the passenger door. “In you go.”

I slide into the car. It’s very low to the ground, so it feels like it takes forever for my body to actually come into contact with the plush, soft leather. Even with the top down, it smells expensive. I’m nearly too scared to touch anything. I don’t want to make a thousand dollar mistake.

He gets behind the wheel next to me. Somehow, his tall form folds perfectly into the seat like this car was custom-made for him.

“There is a hat in the glove compartment should you decide you want one.” He tugs the sunglasses from his shirt and slips them over his eyes.

I reach down for my small purse, sitting at my feet, and pull my own shades from their case, then slip them onto my face.

“I’ve never ridden in a convertible before,” I admit. “I’m excited.”

He reaches over and gives my bare thigh a squeeze. “I’m glad I get to be your first.” He squeezes me again before using that hand to turn the key, firing up the engine that I can feel purring under me.

“Oh my God, it even sounds sexy.”

“Oh, baby, you have no idea.”

He pulls away from the sidewalk and we are on our way.

When we reach the tree-lined Jackie Robinson Parkway, he reaches into his jacket pocket and produces his cell phone.

“Here.” He hands it to me. “It’s connected to the Bluetooth. Had to add something modern to it,” he adds when he sees my confused expression. “You can pick the music. Anything at all. The tunes are yours.”

“Oh, I feel the power, the ultimate power,” I say dramatically.

He gives me the passcode to his