For Seven Nights Only - Sarah Ballance Page 0,1

reached in the cabinet to find the shut-off valve. The whole underside of her sink was soaked, which probably explained his wet ceiling a lot better than the geyser did. “Um, did you know you had a leak down here?”

“Yes,” she said, her voice still a bit wobbly. “Maintenance came today and fixed it.”

He crawled from under the sink and stood. “Clearly.” He paused and looked over his shoulder toward the stove. “Is something burning?”

“Oh, no.” She jerked toward the stove, but apparently high heels weren’t much for traction on wet tile because her forward momentum consisted entirely of pitching into his arms. He caught her just as a light knock sounded against the open door.

“Kel—” The man in the doorway stopped short when his gaze rested on Sawyer. His grip on a bouquet of flowers visibly tightened.

“Brian!” The woman threw herself away from Sawyer so quickly, she nearly fell again. He offered a steadying hand, and she immediately shook him off.

“I guess you weren’t expecting me”—her friend Brian paused to look at his watch, probably one of those new Apple douche bag detectors—“five minutes early.”

“It’s not what it looks like.” She shot a pleading look Sawyer’s way. “He’s helping me with a plumbing emergency.”

Sawyer shrugged, feeling a bit territorial for no good reason. “Sorry, man,” he said without an ounce of sincerity. “It’s not my fault she’s wet. Nor is it my fault she’s burning whatever—”

“They’re peas.” She pushed past Sawyer and moved the pot off the burner while her friend Brian gave him such a thorough once-over that he began to question which team the dude pitched for. But then again, Sawyer wasn’t wearing a shirt to hide his six-pack, while not even the loose suit jacket the other guy wore could hide the kegger situation he had going on.

Kel, or whatever her name was, turned away from the stove just in time to see ol’ Brian throw down his flowers and hit the bricks.

Her crushed expression killed Sawyer’s grin.

She took one step toward the door, and her heel slipped. Before he could reach for her, she grabbed the back of a chair, steadying herself. In dramatic, arm-flinging, footwear-flying fashion, she yanked off her shoes and threw them well away from the puddle that encompassed most of her floor, then stomped over and kicked the flowers out of the way before she slammed the door, shutting him inside with her.

He’d been inside more women’s apartments than he could count, but all of the yelling had always been sex-related. He wasn’t sure what to make of this. Or of her. He knew his way around a wet woman, but not an angry one. And clothing had rarely been a factor, whereas this one seemed to want to hide herself under as much fabric as possible.

Realizing something still smelled hot, Sawyer looked to the stove. She’d left the vacant burner on. He surreptitiously turned the knob and half wished he’d made it out the door before the fireworks started. “I’m sorry about the… Was it a date?”

“Yes, it was a date.” She opened a linen closet and yanked out a stack of towels, then tossed them to the wet floor before walking to the table and blowing out candles Sawyer had just noticed were lit. A couple of impressive-looking steaks sat on the table next to a bowl of what he assumed to be mashed potatoes parked next to an accompanying gravy boat.

He stared at the stark white towels that had landed at his feet. He didn’t do floors—at least not anyone else’s—but he managed to kick towels around until he’d hit the majority of the mess. “If it’s any consolation,” he said, “he wasn’t worth it.”

Kel-whatever froze. Her eyes flashed, and Sawyer thought hard about edging for the door. Drama was a big reason he avoided relationships.

“How could you possibly know that?” she snapped.

He shrugged, a smile threatening. Even with frizzed hair, her giant nerd glasses, and soaking wet—or perhaps especially that way—the woman had potential, or she would have if he went for hippie types. He didn’t know why she felt the need to hide herself under yards of fabric, but the currently clinging material probably conveyed more than she’d like. That she didn’t seem to have a clue how revealing her outfit had become amused him. “He didn’t take two seconds to fight for you, that’s how.”

She stared blankly. “It was a blind date. You expect him to fight for me?”

He leaned against the counter and crossed