Page 22 of Sweet (Chicago Underground 7)
“Well.” He grimaced slightly. “I normally wouldn’t divulge this, since I consider him a friend, but it’s different where family is involved. I know you’re simply using him as a resource, but the truth is, I think he has a bit of a crush on you.”
“I don’t—What?”
“For years, really. At first, I worried it might be reciprocal, but…” He shrugged. “It’s Drew, so he’s not going to push you into anything, but maybe it’s best not to meet with him alone. To lead him on, even unintentionally.”
Oh Lord.
He knew about Drew’s interest in me? And wanted to protect him. From me. I almost laughed.
“Anyway,” he said. “You have a business to start. When can I see this new studio?”
I considered telling him right then. What could I say? Yes, he’s had a crush on me, and it’s reciprocal, and oh by the way, we had some bad sex just now on your carpet. No.
It wasn’t just that I was worried about how he would take it. I didn’t want anyone to know yet. My relationship with Drew, whether just sex or something more lasting, was something rare and precious. If everyone knew, they would weigh in; they would change it; they might ruin it, and I couldn’t risk that.
Instead I cleared my throat. “Very soon. It needs some work before I can open.”
First, I wanted to show it to someone else.
Chapter Eight
After showering for the night, I dressed in a cotton T-shirt and yoga pants. With a duffel bag slung over my shoulder, I headed downstairs. Trying to play it cool, even though I would’ve made the worst spy in the whole world.
“Rose?”
I backed up a few steps. My brother was sitting in the library, one leg slung over the other and a book open in his lap. “It’s late,” he said. There was no censure in his tone—there didn’t need to be. He was used to having his implicit curfew obeyed, and I was used to following it.
“Just meeting a friend,” I said, hoping I wouldn’t have to lie too much to get out of here. I wanted to come clean with Philip, but later. Once Drew and I were more solid, more sure, and not when I was on my way out the door to meet him.
He frowned. “What friend?”
“An old one.”
“Why are you dressed like that?”
“We’re going to work out together.” Sex was a form of physical exercise, right? Oh, I was going to hell for this.
He seemed to consider pressing the issue, but he finally turned back to his book. “Don’t come back too late.”
I mumbled something that would hopefully pass for agreement. If the night went according to plan, I’d come back very late. The plan was very simple. To have sex. Real, regular sex where something of his got inserted into something of mine. Dancing around the issue had been fun, but every ballet needed a climax.
My ballet studio slumbered in the shadows as I drove past. Drew’s condo was only a couple turns away, which was a lovely accident. A complete coincidence, or had I once heard that he lived near Lincoln Park? Was that why this studio had seemed so enticing? But no, it was perfect all on its own. This was plain old good luck. Serendipity to sweeten the pot.
Parking was dicey in this whole neighborhood, so I ended up across the street and one block away. The hems of my yoga pants grew soggy as I hurried along the sidewalk, but what really mattered was underneath.
The doorman smiled when I told him my name. He’d been expecting me, he said. I rode the elevator to the ninth floor.
Drew grinned as he opened the door. “Hey, you.”
“Hey back. You…gonna let me in?”
His grin remained steady. “Definitely. Just savoring the moment.” He waved me inside. “Never thought I’d see the day Rose Murphy showed up at my door.”
I stopped still at the sight of a fully laid-out dining table. The table itself was small, but its dark wood surface was almost completely obscured by two elaborate place settings, candles, and a low, rectangular arrangement of carnations.
“Wow.” I looked down at my yoga pants with their soggy hems. “I feel seriously underdressed.”
He waved a hand in dismissal. “Don’t worry about it.”
