Sex, Not Love Page 11

“Don’t look at you?” He arched a brow. “It’s kind of hard to sit across from someone and have a conversation without looking at them.”

  “I meant don’t look at me like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “All smoldering and stuff.”

  “I’m smoldering?”

  I exhaled. “Can we just have lunch as friends? No sex talk, no you looking all sexy and staring at me, no pressure.”

  “I’ll try. But the looking all sexy thing just comes naturally.”

  We laughed, and it seemed to break the tension—until my cell phone rang and I looked at the caller ID. Super flashed on the screen.

  “I’m sorry. It’s my building super. I need to take this.”

  I answered, assuming it was Jimmy, the regular maintenance guy. “Hello?”

  “My favorite tenant, I hear you need my services?” The voice on the other end made my skin crawl. It wasn’t the super. It was the creep who owned the building.

  “Oh. Hi, Damon. I called the super this morning because of a small issue. But it’s not a big deal. I don’t think you need to get involved.”

  “Are you home?”

  “No, actually, I’m out.”

  “What time will you be home? I’ll come take a look at that drain for you.”

  I had no idea what time Izzy would be home, and I tried to avoid being alone with him at all costs. “Umm…. I’m not sure when I’ll be back. Probably not for a few hours.”

  “How about five?”

  Ugh. Why couldn’t the super just fix it for me like he’d do for every other tenant? “It’s really not a big deal, Damon. Jimmy can fix it when he has time. I can use the bathroom sink for now.”

  “I’ll see you at five.”

  “I might be a little later.”

  “Call me when you’re back at home.”

  I managed to stifle a groan. “Fine.”

  After I hung up, I couldn’t hide my frustration.

  Hunter looked concerned. “What’s up? Everything okay?”

  “Do you remember when I told you my husband’s best friend was nice enough to help me find a place to live? But in exchange for that, he thought I should sleep with him?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, that was the asshole on the phone. Damon owns my building. I dread anytime anything goes wrong in my apartment, because instead of the super coming to fix it, Damon insists on showing up. He doesn’t go as far as pushing himself on me or anything, but he’s tried to kiss me before, and he constantly asks me out, and it just makes me really uncomfortable.”

  The way Hunter’s jaw ticked was endearing. “I’m going home with you later. He can fix the sink while I’m there.”

  “That’s not necessary.”

  “No, it is. And while I’m at it, I need to apologize for being such a pushy asshole. I didn’t see it until you just told me about that guy.”

  “You aren’t an asshole.” I smiled. “Pushy, maybe. But it’s not the same thing. I’ve never felt like if I told you no, and sounded like I meant it, you wouldn’t back off. Damon, on the other hand, I don’t trust. I don’t even like to be in the same room as him.”

  “Yeah, well, I’ll back off anyway. You change your mind on wanting to be anything but friends, I’m here. Otherwise, I’ll cool it.”

  As much as I’d said that was what I wanted, and knew it was for the best, it made me sad. I forced a smile. “Okay.”

  The rest of our lunch was nice, but the mood definitely shifted. There was almost an awkwardness to our conversation. Hunter would relax and start to say something flirty, and then he’d catch himself and dial it back. It was as if he didn’t know how to be friends with me. At one particular point, when he was running his finger along the top of his glass and looking exceptionally tongue-tied, I called him on it.

  “You have no women friends, do you?”

  He looked up from the glass. “Sure I do. I’m friends with lots of women.”

  “Who?”

  “Anna, for one.”

  “She’s not your friend. She’s your buddy’s wife.”

  “So it’s either one or the other?”

  “Do you have any single women you’re friends with?”

  “Sure. At work.”

  “Okay. Who?”

  “I go to lunch with Renee from the office sometimes. She’s a project manager.”

  “Is she dating anyone?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “How old is she?”

  He shrugged. “Mid-sixties, maybe.”

  I shook my head. “She doesn’t count. She’s safe. How about any single friends in their twenties or thirties?”

  “No. But there’s a good reason for that.”

  “What’s the reason?”

  “Men and women who are mating age and attracted to each other can’t be friends. It’s primal.”

  My eyes widened. “You can’t be serious.”

  Hunter leaned back in his chair. “What would I do with a woman I’m attracted to?”

  “What do you mean? What do you and your male friends do?”

  “Outdoors stuff. I like to rock climb, scuba dive, play golf.”

  “So why couldn’t you and I do those things together?”

  “For starters, when the guys and I play golf and one of us has to take a leak, we walk over to the brush and take a leak. When we rock climb, there’s no better way to celebrate getting to the top than peeing off the side of the mountain.”

  “So men and women can’t be friends because of your need to publicly urinate?”

  “Last time we were diving, Derek sliced his hand on a coral reef. We tossed him electrical tape to wrap around his hand to keep the cut shut and went back for another dive. He probably needed a stitch or two, but if he’d gone to the hospital, we would’ve called him a pussy for a month.”

  “And if I was diving with you, you wouldn’t toss me electrical tape?”

  “Nope. Would take you to the hospital for stitches.”

  “What if I didn’t want to go for stitches?”

  “Wouldn’t give you a choice. You get hurt, I’m gonna take care of you.”

  “But you won’t take care of your best friend, Derek?”

  Hunter smirked. “Nope.”

  “You’re really a chauvinist, you know?”

  “Taking care of a woman is being a gentleman.”

  “Not when you do it because you think your sex is superior and the woman can’t take care of herself.”

  “Didn’t say that. You cut your hand, I’m sure you can get yourself to the ER for stitches. But I’d want to take you, nonetheless.”

  I sipped my drink and smirked. “Chauvinist.”

  Hunter leaned in. “Bet you can give yourself an orgasm. But I’d rather be the one to take you there with my mouth. Does that make me a chauvinist, too?”

  The thought of him going down on me had me squirming in my seat, chauvinist or not. Of course, he couldn’t be a gentleman and let it go unnoticed. Instead, a dirty smile curled at the corners of his sinful mouth.

  I was glad the waitress appeared and interrupted. Despite my protest, Hunter paid the bill and then held out his hand.

  “Come on, I’m taking you home and coming in while that asshole Damon fixes your sink.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “Give me this gentlemanly act since you won’t let me have the one I’d really prefer to do for you.”

  Chapter 16

  Natalia

  Turned out I didn’t need to call Damon when I got home. Because the asshole was sitting on my couch when I unlocked the front door.

  Startled, I jumped back. Hunter, who was close behind me, caught me and immediately shifted so I was behind him.

  Every muscle in his body tensed as he growled, “Who the fuck are you?” Hunter was not a man I’d want to meet in a dark alley.

  Damon stood and glared right back. “Damon Valente. Who the fuck are you?”

  I squeezed H
unter’s shoulder. “It’s fine. This is Damon. I just didn’t expect him to be in the house.”

  Hunter responded to me by speaking to Damon. “He shouldn’t be. How’d you get in here?”

  Damon was such a smug asshole. “I own the building. We have keys to all the apartments. Who is this guy, Nat?”

  Feeling the need to diffuse the situation, I stepped back in front of Hunter and tried to play it off. “This is Hunter Delucia.”

  Damon overtly sized him up. “Yeah? I’m the landlord but also a friend of Nat’s husband, Garrett.”

  I put down my purse and corrected him. “Ex-husband.”

  Hunter closed the door behind him and walked to extend his hand to Damon. I breathed a sigh of relief, thinking Hunter was going to make nice. I should’ve known he just wanted to get closer to get his point across.

  He waited until Damon’s hand was in his and looked him straight in the eyes as he spoke. “You shouldn’t be in here when Natalia’s not home.”

  “Nat doesn’t mind.”

  “Actually, Damon, I do.”

  The two men were still hand in hand, but it was more akin to the shake before a prize fight than an introduction. Concerned at the tension in Hunter’s face, I diverted attention to the problem at hand. Although something told me Hunter would not think the problem at hand was the kitchen sink.

  I walked to the kitchen and opened the double cabinet doors beneath the sink, revealing the now-half-full bucket I’d put inside.

  “It’s filling up even without running the water. It’s worse when the water’s on. The first time it happened, I didn’t realize until my feet were getting soaked. It had filled the cabinet and leaked out in less than a minute. So I’m guessing there’s a hole somewhere or something.”

  I let out an unsteady breath when the two men released their shake and Damon walked to the kitchen. He put his hand on the small of my back, with his fingers splaying down mighty close to my ass, as he stood next to me. I reached around and quietly removed it.

  Damon turned on the water and crouched down to watch beneath the sink. “Your seal is leaking. Strainer is old and corroded. It needs a new one and some putty.” He stood and twisted the water back off. “I’ll pick one up and come back tomorrow morning to install it.”

  Hunter stood in the doorway, his shoulders occupying almost the entire space. “I’ll take care of it.”

  Damon turned. “It’s part of her lease. Landlord takes care of plumbing, electrical, and heat. Plus, I promised my friend I’d take care of his wife while he wasn’t around.”

  Hunter’s eyes flicked to me and then to Damon. His jaw was set rigid. “Ex-wife. And you can let your friend know, Natalia is being taken care of just fine.”

  Damon’s face heated. But Hunter was younger, bigger, stronger, and his tone left no room for negotiation. Pissed, he turned his attention to me. “Don’t waste my time if you’re going to have someone do the work yourself.”

  The door slammed shut a minute later. Hunter ran his fingers through his hair. “Sorry about that.”

  “Sorry? I seriously doubt that jerk will be sniffing around anymore. I can’t thank you enough.”

  “Guy’s a dirtbag.”

  “He certainly is. I think if I’d met Damon the same day I met Garrett, I might have thought twice about my ex-husband’s character before the truth smacked me in the head a few years later. You can tell a lot about a person by meeting their best friend.”

  Hunter nodded. “I agree.” He caught my eyes. “For the record, I think Anna’s pretty damn great.”

  God, this man could melt ice with those eyes. “Derek’s pretty awesome, too.”

  ***

  Even though I’d told him I would call a plumber to fix my leaky seal, Hunter insisted it wasn’t a big deal and he could fix it easily. So while he ran out to get what he needed, I cleaned everything out from underneath the sink and decided to bake him brownies. They were already out of the oven and halfway cooled by the time he returned—even though the store I’d told him about was only up the block.

  He had two bags when he entered. “Smells good in here.”

  “I made you brownies. You’ve spent time helping Izzy and bought me dinner on your birthday and lunch today. You’re going to repair my sink. Not to mention that you drove me around California and let me stay at your house. It’s the least I could do.”

  “It’s not necessary.” He reached to the plate, grabbed a brownie, and stuffed it in his mouth. “But if you’re in a giving mood, I can think of a few other ways you could repay me.”

  Before I could respond, he shook his head. “Wow. I really can’t seem to stop my mouth, even when I try. I hope you were being honest when you said I’m not like that Damon asshole.”

  “You’re nothing like that dirtbag,” I assured him. “I’m glad you’re back to your normal, perverted self. That half hour you practiced self control was awful.”

  Hunter unbuttoned his shirt and winked. “I knew you liked my dirty mouth.”

  Wearing just a white T-shirt, he got ready for the sink repair. He dumped the contents of one of the bags on the counter and opened a bunch of plumbing parts individually wrapped in plastic bags before setting them on the floor where he’d be working. As soon as he laid down and stuck his head in the cabinet, Izzy’s cat appeared from nowhere and ran across the room—jumping on and over Hunter during his random chase of air. The sudden pounce on his abs made Hunter jolt upright, and he whacked his head on the cabinet as he sat up. “What the hell was that?”

  I walked over and picked up the crazy feline. “Sorry. Are you okay? That was Izzy’s cat. He doesn’t come out often. He’s shy.”

  Hunter rubbed his head, then raised his eyes to the cat in my hand. His eyes widened. “Does he…have one eye?”

  I petted the top of its head. “Yeah. He was a stray that Izzy used to feed when she lived with her mom. Must’ve gotten into a fight and lost it at one point. He doesn’t have a tail either.”

  “That’s one ugly cat.”

  “Hey, be nice. Catpernicus has feelings, too.”

  Hunter arched a brow. “Catpernicus?”

  “Izzy’s into astronomy. We call him Cat for short. He likes to sleep in the closet. Poor thing digs himself under the discarded teenage clothing heap in her room. I think he probably had it rough on the streets.”

  I dug my nails into the top of Catpernicus’s head, and he pushed up and licked the inside of my wrist while starting to purr.

  Hunter grumbled, “Lucky pussy,” and went back under the sink.

  Fifteen minutes later, my sink was fixed.

  “I really can’t thank you enough.”

  “No problem.” Hunter washed his hands and grabbed the other bag, which I now noticed was still full.

  “Did you buy extra parts in case you needed them?”

  “Nope. Got a flat-head screwdriver?”

  “Sure.” I went to the junk drawer and pulled one out as Hunter emptied the contents of the other bag. Inside was a Baldwin lock and key set.

  “Changing the lock on your front door while I’m at it, so that asshole can’t help himself inside while you’re in the shower one day.”

  I’d never thought of that. But now that he’d said it, I was glad he was doing it, because I wouldn’t sleep tonight with that idea planted in my head.

  “Wow. Yeah. Thank you. That’s great.”

  ***

  “I should get going.” Hunter polished off the beer I’d given him after he’d finished fixing my sink and changing my door lock. Since Izzy had texted that she was going over to her friend’s after the boys’ basketball game, I didn’t have anything I needed to do for the rest of the afternoon or evening.

  “Do you want to stay and watch a movie or something? I could make you a late dinner since we ate a late lunch?”

  Hunter crossed to where I was standing to toss out the beer bottle, then brushed a lock of hair from my face. “I should go.”

  His hand lingered
on my cheek, his thumb stroking my skin as our eyes locked. God, I wanted him so badly I ached. I longed for his other hand to cup my face the way he had during the kisses we’d shared. It was so intimate, so passionate. But as always, fear kept me from telling him that or acting on my feelings.

  Hunter read the fear in my eyes and nodded with a sad smile. “I definitely should go.”

  We walked to the door in silence. When he opened it, a sense of panic washed over me. “You’re going to Mom’s for dinner tomorrow night, right? She invited you?”

  “She did. But I’m going to tell her I can’t make it. You should take your date, instead.”

  My date. I had zero desire to take Marcus to Mom’s. In fact, I had zero desire for Marcus. Unlike the man who stood in front of me.

  “Will I see you again?”

  “I’m here for two months. If you need anything, give me a call. Plus, I’ll check in on how Izzy’s stats improve.” He held out his hand for the first time, instead of kissing me like he’d done every other time we’d said goodbye. “Friends, not fucking?”

  It wasn’t exactly as enticing as sex, not love, but it was what I could handle right now. I put my hand in his. “Friends, not fucking.”

  Chapter 17

  Natalia

  “You really look incredible. I can’t keep my eyes off of you. My buddy is going to be insulted that I’m not looking at his paintings.”

  I’d gone all out getting ready for my date with Marcus. After a night of feeling melancholy after Hunter left, I decided maybe if I made myself look good, I might feel better about my date. Unfortunately, it wasn’t working.

  “Thank you.” I forced a smile.

  Marcus and I moved to the next piece of art, and my first genuine smile of the day appeared. His friend was a talented painter. Most of his pieces were Surrealist, with the focus on one exaggerated object that he’d pulled from a classic movie. The box for the movie that inspired each painting sat on a shelf underneath each work. This particular painting was from the cult horror film The Birds. The movie box had a swarm of birds flying around the head of a terrified woman. But the painting showed a swarm of birdhouses that were falling apart with bent nails hanging out all over, and instead of a woman looking terrified, there was a scared man with nail scratches all over his face.