actually made the call.
Now.
Right this minute.
And he’d yet to say a single word.
“Michael, are you there?”
“Yeah, hey,” he said, drawing from the depths of his inner calm. “What’s up?”
“I’m sorry I was in such a rush last week,” she said.
“Come on, no apologies. You saved me, remember? I’m sorry for interrupting . . . whatever I was interrupting when I knocked on your door.”
“Yeah, about that—” she said, a hint of anxiety in her voice.
Unfortunately, a hint was all it took to send his mind soaring in a million naughty directions. What could possibly be so important, so diverting, so intense, that she couldn’t stop to answer the door?
She hadn’t been taking a shower. When she’d darted down to his apartment, she’d been dry and smelling slightly of popcorn and chocolate. Funny how he remembered that, even after a full week.
“Hey, you don’t have to explain,” he said.
“Good, because I’m not the kind of girl who reveals her obsessions to just anyone.”
Mike shifted in his chair. The pathways through his nervous system that had shivered at the initial sound of her voice now ignited with heat. “I’d like to think I’m not just anyone.”
“Well, that remains to be seen,” she countered.
And before he could challenge her doubtfulness, she continued.
“Which is why I’m calling. I thought maybe if I showed you what kept me so wrapped up last week that I didn’t even hear you at my door, maybe you’d understand.”
Don Corleone must have taken lessons from this intriguing Jewish girl. She’d just made him an offer he’d have to be dead to refuse.
“Sounds intriguing,” he said.
“Does it?”
Her voice rose with pleasure. In instant response, his entire body seized up tight. His anticipation and curiosity spiked to a point where he was hesitant to speak.
“Yeah,” he managed.
“Do you like Chinese food? I always order in on Mondays. You could join me.”
He cleared his throat. “Sounds like a plan.”
“Okay, then,” she said, a note of surprise in her voice. Was she surprised that she’d essentially asked him over for dinner or shocked that he’d accepted?
“See you at seven?”
“Right.”
Before he could form another halfway coherent thought, she said good-bye and disconnected the call.
How long he sat there, stunned, he wasn’t sure. It wasn’t until Nikki knocked on the top of his desk that he popped out of his reverie.
“Something wrong?” she asked, her dark, sculpted eyebrows high on her forehead.
“What? No,” Mike replied, but then reconsidered. On the surface, what had just occurred was extraordinarily fabulous. A pretty, funny, generous and interesting woman who liked his dog and lived in his building had just invited him to a somewhat spontaneous dinner at her place, to be followed, presumably, by the revelation of some guarded secret regarding an obsession of hers. With Nikki staring at him, he didn’t dare imagine what this might be, but that she’d admitted she had a closeted obsession was enough to send Mike’s heart rate into hyperdrive. “Well, yeah. I don’t know.”
“You know, Michael, that’s what I love about you. You’re always so decisive.”
Nikki’s sarcasm knocked just enough sense back into his brain for him to sit up straight, scoot in his chair, and refocus on the pile of work in front of him. He’d accepted Anne’s invitation without even consulting his calendar. Didn’t matter. If he had anything else scheduled tonight, he would cancel. There was no way in hell he was missing this dinner.
“Did you need something?” he asked.
When he’d first come to the Quality Education Initiative months ago, Nikki had been the first person in the organization to not only show him around, but also to become a friend. Idealistic, beautiful, and sassy as all get-out, she added color and unpredictability to his day.
She could also read him like a book.
“That was a woman on the phone,”