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If not for Cary living with me, I would've been miserably lonely in the sprawling apartment that cost more per month than most people made in a year. In my dreams, I'd imagining living in a walkup in Brooklyn, but being a dutiful daughter, I found myself on the Upper West Side instead. Two major metropolises - one endlessly temperate and sensually lazy, the other teeming with life and frenetic energy. I was not merely across the country from my former home in San Diego, but seemingly worlds away. The moment I stepped outside, the smells and sounds of Manhattan embraced me and invited me to explore. Taking the elevator down to the first floor, I smiled at the doorman when he let me out to the street with a flourish.
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There's no way to screw up a meal in there."ĭubious, I headed out with a wave, choosing to avoid a conversation about cooking. "We've got a kitchen most restaurants would kill for. "Great."īlowing a wayward strand of hair off his face, he grinned at me. "Uh." Cooking was one of Cary's joys, but it wasn't one of his talents. I'm breaking in the new kitchen for dinner." "If I make it through the day, that'll be worth celebrating." "How about tomorrow after work?" I offered as a substitute. No matter his expression, he was a knockout. I fully expected his million-dollar face to appear on billboards and fashion magazines all over the world one day. "Walk fast, work out faster." Cary's perfectly executed arched brow made me laugh. "After I time the walk to work, I'm going to hit the gym." "I don't know if I'll make it back in time." I gestured at my yoga pants and fitted workout tank. We can hit a happy hour and be in by eight." "I'm not talking about a bender," he insisted. I might have resented that if he hadn't been the dearest person on earth to me. Leanly built, dark-haired, and green-eyed, Cary was a man who rarely looked anything less than absolutely gorgeous on any day of his life. We'd been unpacking for days, yet he still looked amazing. "Come on, Eva." Cary sat on our new living room floor amid a half-dozen moving boxes and flashed his winning smile. "I'm sure drinking the night before starting a new job is a bad idea." I'd always considered it part of his charm. Cary Taylor found excuses to celebrate, no matter how small and inconsequential. I wasn't surprised by my roommate's emphatic pronouncement. Bared to You (Crossfire, #1) by Sylvia Day