Ten Days of Perfect (10 page)

You love him. You are holy-shit in love with him.

I’d slept so heavy, that the sunlight blazing through my window at 6:45am startled me.
Did I really sleep
through the whole night, naked, with Bo in my bed? Or, worse, had I dreamt it all?

I jumped up and took inventory of my surroundings. Bo’s shoes were tucked under my bedside stand, and his jeans lay on the floor where I’d tossed them. I paused for a moment and breathed in the memory. Never had anyone looked at me with so much intention, or given me so much
attention
. My body held more memories. I felt him from head to toe; I had
never
felt this way before. Words I swore I wouldn’t use carelessly again - not since Adrian - pushed against my gated teeth. Despite their silence, their presence tore through my veins. It was all too heavy to evaluate at such an early hour.

A clink of glass in my kitchen startled me back to reality and I suddenly smelled coffee. I hustled over to my dresser and threw on an oversized t-shirt. I was about to head out of the bedroom, when I heard feet cautiously approaching my room. I gasped internally as he entered my room. Morning did him justice; his “morning after” hair was a perfect mess of wild ebony set against his light skin, and he wore only his boxer briefs. It wa
s the only cup o’ Joe I needed.

“Did I wake you?” He seemed sta
rtled to see me standing there.

“No, not at all. For a
minute, I
thought you’d left.” I swayed back to the bed and hitched myself against the headboard
, drawing my knees to my chest.

“What made you think I’d leave?” He flashed concern as he handed me a warm mug of coffee.

“I’m just surprised I slept so heavily. I’m glad you didn’t leave. How’d
you know how to fix my coffee?”

“I saw the creamer in your fridge and took a guess.” He smirked as he slid next
to me and mimicked my position.

I sipped my perfectly made coffee, closed my eyes, and smiled again at the memory of last night. When I opened my eyes, he was smiling too. He turned slightly and, for the first time, I caught a glimpse of his perfectly sculpted back in the daylight - and that tattoo I’d meant to investigate. Between his shoulders, starting at the base of his neck and running to th
e bottom of his shoulder blades
was a huge Celtic cross. It was intricately decorated, all in black, and read like a topographical ma
p over each one of his muscles.

“Wow, that’s gorgeous.” I reached out and barely touche
d it, waiting for his approval.

“Thanks, I got it after my parents died. The
ir initials are in the center.”

He shifted so his back was square to me, and stayed quiet as I traced my fingers up the cross and landed on the initials S.C. and V.C. I rested my hand there for a beat, trying to picture what it would be like if my parents were gone - taken from me at the same time.
These shoulders have carried so much . . .

“Do you ha
ve any?” He turned back around.

“What, you didn’t get a good enough l
ook last night?” I joked.

“Ha. Well, not at your back.” He win
ked as he leaned in for a kiss.

“Well, I don’t - yet. I’ll get one, but I’m waiting till something calls out to me.” I smiled thinking of all the times my parents
suggested I
get a tattoo.

“I had a great time last night,” I said, breaking the silence that draped comfortably between us.

“I did too.
It was more than great, Ember
. . .
”

Jesus, my body was already responding to his voice. And, Ember sounded just as great coming from his mouth as November did. He could probably call me “bar stool”, I realized, and I wouldn’t care.
He
just
needed to be the one saying it.

“Listen, you should know I don’t usually do this sort of thing. I just - it just felt so right with you.” I found myself looking at him out of the corner of m
y eye, hiding behind my coffee.

“Hey, I don’t think anything bad, Ember. I don’t usually do this e
ither.” He set his coffee down.

“Look,” he continued, “I feel a little nuts here. I mean, I’m here for business, I decided to play at Finnegan’s to pass some time and, damn it, in you walk. When we sang together I felt like I knew all I needed to know about you, but I wanted more. Then you were at the meeting . . .” Tension made
quick work of filling my room.

“Don’t do that.” I put my coffee down and faced him, my legs crossed. “I’m still here. You’re still here.
We’ve got this week
. I felt the same things when we met, Bo. I had to force myself to pull away from you after our first kiss. I thought it was a dream; this couldn’t be happening at some bar that I’ve been to every weekend for the last fou
r years. But it did - you did.”

I pressed my hand into his cheek. He leaned into it, kissing my wrist as I spoke. “Can we just enjoy this week and weekend and just see where it takes us? That’s what you said yesterday, right? If our agencies end up working together, we’ll sort out whatever needs to be at that time.” I tried to sound positive, but the thought of only seven days left weighed heavily on my words. There would be no way we could carry on like this if we were co
workers.

“God, could you be any more perfect?” He whispered as he reached for my face.

“What do you mean?”
             

“I mean,
perfect
. You’re smart, driven, you sing, and last night
. . .
” a grin overcame him, “last night was amazing.” He looked up at me, his eyes
still dancing with excitement.

“I’ve never felt
anything like that before, Bo.”

Suddenly my room felt like it’d been transported south of the Equator. My palms began to sweat and I felt like my shirt was made of wool. I wanted him e
ven more than I did last night.

Bo leaned forward, kissing me deeply with little regard for morning breath. Thankfully I’d at least sipped my coffee, but I realized I didn’t notice at all - I just loved his taste. He pressed me back into the bed with kisses so soft it was as if he worried I would crack beneath his weight.
So, naturally, the phone rang.

“Ugh, it’s probably Monica,” I said as I absentmindedly reached for my phone. I let out a
grumble when I saw the number.

“What?” Bo laughed.

“It’s her.” I rolled my eyes. “We didn’t talk about my plans for last night. This is as long as she could contain her
self.”

Bo’s s
mile faded, but I waved it off.

“Hey Mon, what’s up,” I ans
wered, maybe a little to blasé.

“What’s up? Do you mean after the Spencer revelation yesterday you two
didn’t
get together last night?” She sounded annoyed, and I pictured her arms
folded with a tapping foot.

“Monica. It’s fine. Look, we’ll talk about it when I get to work,
okay?
”
She’ll see right through it.

“November Blue Harris, is Bo Cavanaugh in your apartment right now?” A fifteen-year-old girl took over her voice.

“Yes.”

“Did he just get th
ere or did he stay all night?”

I paused, not wanting to let Bo know that I was going to tell Monica about last ni
ght. Monica didn’t miss a beat.

“E
mber, did he stay last night?”

“Yes.”

“Shit! Ember!” She exclaimed excitement and panic in one breath. “Can you be to work by 7:30 so we can talk about this before
Carrie
gets there?”

“Sure, Mon. See you soon.” I hung up as Monica grumbled something unintelligible and I looked at Bo. He seemed frozen in the same position he was when I an
swered the phone.

“Does she know I stayed last night?” There
was no inflection in his tone.

“She’s a smart girl. She’s also my best friend and
won’t
say anything. I know we’ve only known each other a couple of days but
you have to trust me on that.”

Bo’s sigh of relief took his shoulders down with it, “I just don’t want to ruin anything for anyone.” It was hard for me to determine if he was speaking about our jobs or
us.

“It’ll be fine. I do, however, have to get to work early. Crap, we’re supposed to set up a
meeting.
What are your other commitments this week?” Discussing business in the bedroom only served t
o highlight the issues present.

“T
oday
is
the local high school
, tomorrow I’m free after ten.
” He
rested
his head against my headboard.

“So how about we do a lunch meeting tomorrow, in our office? Just text
me later to confirm that’s OK.
”

“Sure thing. D
avid Bryson will be there too.”

A devious smile erased all concern from his face. He took our coffee mugs and pl
aced them on the bedside stand.

“Hey, I need that!” I joked.

The scorching heat from his lips melted me into my bed. He pulled away as quickly as he came in, and
swiftly dressed.

“And
I
needed that,”
he teased. “Talk to you later.”

He kissed me on the head before moving out of my be
droom.

“Hey!” I called out. “Don’t go trying to stalk me on Facebook or anyt
hing, I don’t have an account!”

“Hey!” He called back, out of sight, “Neither do I
. Looks
like we’re both out of luck!”

I hurried to my bedroom window when I heard the door shut. Bo reached the sidewalk, paused in front of my car a moment, and glanced up to my window. I waved and he grinned before getting in his car and driving away.

***

Monica and I got to work at the same time. She was already shaking her head at me as she pu
t her car in to park.

“Morning, M
on,” I said coolly as possible.

“Don’t ‘morning Mon’ me, smartass, get inside so we can talk!” The grin didn’t leave her face; even when we got in
to my office and shut the door.

“What do you want me to tell you? That just because we happened to have a meeting with Bo yesterday I would break whatever plans we had this week? Yesterday’s meeting was informational, set up before we met him, and he wasn’t even supposed to be here.”
Why am I speaking so fast?

“Ember, relax. I just want to know how he is in bed.” She arched he
r eyebrow as she sipped coffee.

“Monica!”

“A hot man like that does
not
find himself at your apartment in the morning without having been there the night before. And, to the best of my knowledge, you don’t make a habit of platonic sleep overs with the opposite sex.” She could have been on CNN with the seriousness
she used to deliver that line.

I caved. “It was intense. We had this rhythm - it wasn’t awkward. I felt him on a different level I’ve ever felt anything, or anyone.  He took his time, touched and kissed what seemed like every single part of my body,
didn’t rush.
His eyes were on me the whole time, Mon . . . like he was at a museum, looking at art - or something. He was slow and sweet - holy shit. And this morning he brought me co
ffee in bed for Christ’s sake!”

“Miss November, I do believe you’re blushing,” She exaggerated a southe
rn drawl as she fanned herself.

“Seriously, seeing him in here yesterday only made me
more
attracted to him.
D
o we have
everything
in common? Jesus, I don’t know what to do. By the way we’re doing a lunch meeting tomorrow to further discuss the collaboration.” I
flopped
down in my chair and sighed.

“Em
. . .
”
Monica sat down across from me.

“I know. This could be a real ni
ghtmare.”

Monica and I majored in Public Relations; sex “scandals” are both the easiest thing to avoid
and
t
he most damaging for an agency.

“We’ll figure it out Ember. Just be
cautious
until all the cards are on the table and we know what we’re dealing with.” Sh
e seemed relaxed, which helped.

During the rest of the morning I researched what I could on DROP. I already knew their major benefactor, but it was clear that they needed internet assistance. I emailed their grant writer, William Holder, to get a read on him. William offered that he and “Spencer” had known each other since high school and he had a lot of emotional stake in the success of DROP. I seriously hoped Bo didn’t share personal things
with Will, at least about us.