AN: Thanks so much for the reviews. I am really glad everyone is liking this so far...It's so much fun!
Chapter 4
Derek woke to the smell of cinnamon and the sound of something sizzling. He was a bit groggy, like he'd slept far too long. Rolling over onto his side, he winced from soreness, and then he slowly opened his eyes and glanced at his alarm clock. It was seven in the morning.
"Damn."
He'd slept over twelve hours. Derek rarely ever slept more than five hours, and it was a fight to get that much sleep. He had been worn out, but he knew it was the combination of medication and the warmth of a delicious female body that had really lulled him to sleep.
He'd bet a million bucks that the lovely woman who had slept with him was in his kitchen right now. Question was...when had she gotten up?
Immediately, he looked at the pillow next to his. There was an indentation and a couple of long, silky blonde hairs on it, which proved to him that Penelope had spent the night. He scrubbed a hand over his face. Shit. The first time he gets his girl in his bed, and he barely remembered it. Damn pain pills.
Last evening's conversation dawned on him, and he smiled. It was almost the New Year, and he couldn't think of a better way to have the New Year start than to clear the air between them and let what was meant to be happen between them finally happen. It took a little bit of courage from an unlikely source, but he'd finally let loose and told her in no uncertain terms that he didn't look at her like just a friend. She was his type, and she had the right to know it. The woman turned him on like no other person on Earth. Everything about her was just right in his book. She was perfect for him. She just had to realize it, and realize he was perfect for her in return.
They were on the right course. He thought about the reaction she'd had to him last night. She'd looked a little embarrassed, but she hadn't left. He figured that was a good sign. If she'd been mortified by his attraction—and the raging hard on he'd had—she would've gotten out of his bed and run for the hills. Instead, he remembered her snuggling close to him, her thigh brushing against his and her arm curled around his side, the whole night.
It had been a very good night. Now to capitalize on it this morning... and later tonight, if all went well.
Grinning to himself, he realized he needed to take a quick shower and get his mind out of the gutter before he went downstairs and checked on how his beautiful girl was feeling this morning.
Penelope was beyond nervous. While Derek had slept like a sweetly snoring baby, she'd tossed and turned a great deal of the night. She'd finally gotten up and gone shopping to make him the perfect breakfast and to holiday up his house. It was just two days before New Year's, and he had nothing merry about at all. While she was out, she'd tried to decipher whether or not what she was feeling was totally real. There was so much at stake—either way the ball bounced.
If the proverbial ball of love landed in the Baby-quit-dreaming-we're-just-friends court it had been oddly planted in for the past eight years, she had to go back to the way things were: loving him from afar with a fierce passion that burned her soul. She'd accepted her role as best friend/biggest fan years ago. Going back to that wouldn't be so bad...would it?
If that fickle ball landed in the I-want-you-for-real-hubba-hubba court, then she had to deal with what it was like to win the love lottery and finally get everything she'd ever dreamed of. Even more than what she had dared to hope for in her life.
She paused in pouring maple syrup. The second option sounded so uberly much better.
Suddenly, a kiss landed smack on her cheek. She squealed and turned to face the handsome man she'd been pondering for hours now, and her heart skipped a beat.
"Morning, princess," he said with a grin.
"Good morning," she answered, and then turned back to the French toast.
Frack. She was so nervous, she forgot her usual greeting, that she was going to show him a good morning. She hadn't given him her usual smile, either. It was stilted, a bit forced, like she was nervous...a touch apprehensive.
That only made sense. She was nervous, so...
"I...uh..." She turned to continue working on the French toast so that she could focus somewhere other than his gorgeous, honey brown eyes with the golden flecks and perfectly curved lashes and talk. "I wasn't expecting you to be up so soon."
He reached for a grape that was sitting on the plate and popped it in his mouth. "I don't usually sleep over twelve hours, Baby Girl."
She glanced back at him, and then she sighed and laughed. "You don't, do you?"
"Nope. I slept like a baby," he replied and then winked at her. "Must've been the company I kept."
Ugh. That wink made her doubt herself again. He was joking just like nothing had really happened. Did nothing really happen? Was all the sweetness and emotion she felt just on her behalf? Was it just smoke and mirrors to make her feel better about herself, because she'd been being a realist?
She bit her bottom lip. That would be something he'd do. Sure, he had been inappropriate in his methods, but...
Trying to be light, she snickered, picking up the plates. "Yes. Ol' Mr. Narcotic did the trick."
"That didn't help. I'm sorry about that, P," he said with a slight blush on his high cheekbones. "I really am a lightweight when it comes to drugs and an empty stomach. When I blew my knee out in college, I could barely take Tylenol without dancing on the ceiling. I'd rather suffer than be loopy."
Well. That explained it, didn't it? Her stomach fell a little with disappointment, but she sucked it up. She was used to that feeling when it came to really, really great guys. They didn't pan out...or they shot her.
"You were fine," she answered, shaking her macabre feelings and patting his arm reassuredly. "You didn't act too terrible...or too terribly inappropriate."
He reached for one of the plates. "Oh, come on, peaches. Yes, I did."
"I got this," she said, sidestepping him easily and ignoring his words. "You are still injured."
"Baby, I can carry a plate."
"Just sit," she ordered, pointing to his chair and placing his plate in front of him. "Oh. And there are two pills there. Take them, please, so you're not suffering."
He chuckled. "Honey, I'm not-"
"Oh! The juice!" She'd forgotten the orange juice bottle! He was going to take the medicine and have nothing to drink. That was unacceptable.
As she went quickly back into the kitchen, she heard him give a sigh of defeat. When she came back, he'd already he sat down, and she placed the plate of French toast, bacon, and grapes in front of him. The pills were missing and so was half of the fresh-squeezed orange juice she'd made. Good. She didn't want him to feel unwilling to take the pills, even if he did act a little...randy when he took them.
"When did you go shopping?" he asked.
She grinned, taking a seat near him and putting her napkin on her lap. It was a gold, sparkling, Christmassy-looking cloth napkin. "How did you know I shopped?"
"I don't think I had any of those ingredients in my fridge," he said, putting his napkin on his lap and then pointed to the center of his table, "but I am damn sure I didn't have a poinsettia."
"I knew there was a reason you were such an astute detective." She winked at him teasingly. "I didn't see anything festive in here, and I figured you needed something festive for the holidays, my New Year's baby boy, since you are laid up."
"It's nice," he said honestly. "Thank you, my Christmas angel."
She blushed with pleasure at the praise. She loved to please him, just like he loved to please her. They did sweet little things for each other all the time, picking up extra coffee from the coffee shop, hugs and kisses that made them both smile. It made them so perfect for each other.
Still...that didn't mean perfect lovers. Could be just perfect friends, and be happy...
Oh, sweet circuits, she hated feeling wishy-washy! She wish he'd just sweep her away, declare he was in love with her, and be done with it!
Or not...and be done with it, too.
Second thought, wishy-washy wasn't sooo bad. At least this way, she could keep her active fantasy life.
"Eat," she said, gesturing to his plate. "Your food is getting cold."
"You, too, sweetheart," he answered, giving her a wolf-like grin. "You know how I like to watch you eat."
Penelope felt her stomach knot and a tingle of anticipation, but she brushed it away. He'd just taken medicine on an empty stomach, like he'd had last night. It didn't take long to work on him and make him...silly.
And horny. God, the man got horny quickly!
Clearing her throat, she picked up her fork and speared a piece of toast. "Bon appetite."
