Whole Latte Love (The Jewells) Page 4

  She eyed the circle warily. One by one, they shook their heads.

  “That was a dud,” Vic yawned and drained a shot glass on the side.

  “Uh, sorry. Not me,” Paul mumbled.

  “Me neither,” said Zeke.

  “Oh, no, never,” Sheila sputtered. She cupped her hand and practically shouted in Carina’s ear, “I thought you’d say you never sucked a guy’s cock. Does that mean …”

  “Shhh, of course I haven’t.” Carina pushed Sheila aside, her cheeks boiling. She glanced at Dylan who wore a knowing grin, one eyebrow raised. He wiped both sides of his face and rolled his eyes back and sighed heavily.

  “Well? Have you ratted out a coworker? Tell the truth.” Carina couldn’t help the smile creeping up her face. She’d outsmarted all of them and had yet to take a drink.

  “Sorry.” Dylan finally admitted. “I’d never do such a low down dirty thing.”

  “Great, I win.” Carina perched herself on the sofa arm. This was actually kind of fun, getting everyone to admit to embarrassing things while staying above the fray. But, why were they laughing?

  Sheila giggled. “Dylan, you didn’t tell her the final rule.”

  “Oh, that one.” He took Carina by the arm. “If no one admits to what you’ve never done, you have to drink everyone’s beer and give everyone a kiss. I would have rescued you, but …”

  “What? No fair!” Carina gaped at him, then glanced around the room. The boys were laughing and slapping the table. She couldn’t weasel out and be a spoilsport, so she gathered the beer cups.

  “Whoop! Drink ’em, drink ’em,” they chanted.

  “Here goes.” She tipped the first cup, almost gagging on the bitter, yeasty taste. It took a few swallows, but she finished it. She wiped her lips with the back of her hand and reached for the second cup.

  “You sure about this?” Dylan asked, his brows furrowed.

  “I’m no wimp.” She poured another mouthful of the nasty liquid down her tingly throat. She’d need a lot of beer before the kissing began.

  Gasping for breath, she stared at the red Solo cup. It seemed larger than before. The beer was only down to the lower line and she still had one, two, three, four more to go.

  Carina put the cup to her lips. She burped and clutched her stomach, a sour copper taste gurgling in her mouth, then forced herself to swallow. Someone handed her another cup. She inhaled to gather her courage. A one, and a two, and …

  “Time for the kisses.” Dylan snatched the cup from her and set it on the coffee table.

  “Me first.” Sheila clamped Carina around the neck, dragging her across the room.

  Carina pursed her lips, but before she could aim, Sheila planted a wet one on her mouth. The room exploded with laughter and howls.

  One by one, Dylan’s friends lined up. Carina graced them with a barely there air kiss which they fortunately accepted. Dylan, however, sported an arrogant, self-satisfied grin. She ought to bite him instead.

  “You purposely left out the last rule.” Carina crossed her arms and tightened her leg muscles, already feeling woozy from the two cups of beer she’d consumed. What would her parents say if they knew?

  “Come on, pucker up.” He pointed at his bottom lip. “Or did you want to go into the closet?”

  “Oh, I forgot.” She clapped her face. “Last rule. Kissing isn’t allowed between roommates. I’m going to sleep.”

  “You sure you’re not up for another game?”

  “Maybe another time.” She yawned and looked longingly at her bedroom.

  Dylan pulled out his cell and looked at the display. “Oops, it’s late. I’ll get rid of them.”

  “No, really, stay and have fun. I’m so tired, I won’t even need earplugs.” Not to mention drunk and about ready to keel over, especially since she had the Asian flush gene and couldn’t metabolize alcohol the way Dylan and his hardened friends could.

  “I have something for you.” Dylan stepped toward her, his already overwhelming presence sucking the oxygen from her lungs. “A welcome gift.”

  He pulled a keychain from his pocket and handed it to her. The tag featured a steaming cup of coffee with the words ‘Baristas Do It With Foam.’

  “You shouldn’t have.” She sucked in a breath, her head feeling frothy. It was only a small gift, a token, but warmth invaded her belly and despite the aftertaste of beer bubbling in her throat, she threw her arms around him. “This is so cool. Thanks.”

  “I aim to please.” He licked his lips and leaned forward, his mouth hovering close to hers. His eyelashes lowered over his eyes and he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.

  Carina held Dylan’s gaze, one so deep and mesmerizing she could plunge in and sink, never to come up for air. No, no. She couldn’t let go of her goals, screw up all of her accomplishments for a sex god. What kind of role model would she be for her younger cousins? The relatives would talk, snickering under their breath. We thought she was raised better than to throw away her accomplishments for a hooligan. Of course he had other women. Silly girl lost her head. What a shame.

  Nope. She was too smart for this. She let go of him and swung the keychain. “The party was fun. Good night.”

  Chapter 4

  The next morning, Carina reached across the nightstand and silenced her alarm clock. What? Seven-thirty already? She was late for her practice commute to the city.

  She rolled off the bed, her mouth dry as fuzzy cotton and her temples throbbing. Why, oh why had she allowed herself to be talked into playing that drinking game?

  The aroma of fresh roasted coffee seeped under the doorway. Carina stretched and tottered to the door and opened it a crack. Outside, the espresso machine was humming and sputtering, and smooth jazz played on the stereo. Dylan was probably in the kitchen, but Carina didn’t want him to see her rumpled morning look.

  Grabbing her toiletry caddy, she hurried into the bathroom. A hot shower was just the ticket to steam her out of her grogginess. But today, she didn’t have the luxury of a long one. She scrubbed herself with exfoliating body wash and shaved her legs.

  She had just shut off the water when Dylan tapped on the door.

  “Your phone’s ringing. Want me to pass it to you?”

  Was this an excuse to get her to open the door while she was naked? Carina palmed the sides of her head. She’d forgotten to bring in a towel and clothes. How many brain cells had she killed drinking those beers? No wonder her mother always warned her about guys plying alcohol.

  “No, I’ll be right out. I, uh, didn’t bring a towel.”

  He chuckled through the door. “Borrow one of mine. I don’t have cooties.”

  A plush burgundy towel hung on the rack behind the door. Carina couldn’t help bringing it to her nose. It smelled clean, but with a dark and sensual mix of oak, musk, and coffee. She almost dropped the towel. She couldn’t go around wrapped in his aromatic scent and expect her hormones to hibernate all summer.

  But at the same time, staying naked in the bathroom while her phone rang was not an option. She hastily wrapped herself in his towel and cracked open the door for a peek. Thankfully, Dylan had left the phone on the floor and was in the kitchen cooking and singing something about being a mistake someone couldn’t live without.

  Carina grabbed her phone and dashed from the bathroom to her room. She definitely didn’t need mistakes, especially of the male persuasion. She let the towel slide to the floor and rummaged through her dresser.

  Her mother’s ringtone played “Moonlight Sonata,” a gloomy classical piano piece.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  “You forgot to call last night. I was worried. What’s your apartment like? Are you ready for work? Make sure you make a good first impression.”

  Carina put her phone on speaker and muttered the appropriate “yes Mom’s” and “I will’s.”

  “Do you like San Francisco? Be careful, don’t offend anyone. One tiny slip can cause a thousand years of misery. You forgot your violin. Should w
e FedEx it? And how are you doing for money?”

  While her mother rattled off more reminders, Carina dressed herself in business casual for her practice run into the city. Even though it was Sunday and less likely to be crowded, she still needed an idea of the stops and the time it would take to walk to her building.

  Her mother paused for a hasty breath and continued, “Are you cooking or eating out? I heard there are lots of Chinese supermarkets in the Bay Area. Your father and I have some vacation time coming up, and we want to make a trip to see you.”

  “V-visit?” Carina froze. Mom wouldn’t be please to find her rooming with a man, even if it was entirely platonic. “I’m going to be really busy. You know how I-banking is.”

  “Oh, yes, and we’re so proud of you. You have opportunities we didn’t have coming from Taiwan as grad students.”

  “When do you think you can make the trip? I’m not sure I’ll even get Fourth of July weekend off.” She crossed her fingers. Maybe Dylan would go somewhere for the long weekend with his band or swap places with Sheila for a few days.

  “Depends on if we can get someone to watch your brother and whether he’s in his manic phase. Oops, your dad says we’re running late.”

  Carina’s phone beeped and the display showed an incoming call from Sheila.

  “That’s okay. Say ‘hi’ to Dad and have a nice time at church.”

  “We will. It’s great talking to you.”

  “Same here. Bye, Mom,” Carina said, then switched to Sheila. “Hey, what’s up?”

  “You feeling okay?” Sheila asked. “Hung over?”

  “A little. I need coffee.”

  “Speaking of coffee, I had a chat with Dylan after you went to bed.”

  “What about?” Carina brushed mascara onto her eyelashes.

  “I told him this summer’s critical for your career and he shouldn’t tease you the way he did. Someone’s got to look out for you.”

  “Well, seems like you enjoyed the party too. What’s with the mysterious roommate you fell in love with?”

  “Ha, ha.” Sheila’s laugh sounded stiff. “I don’t have any roommates. That was to throw Nico off. You know he has a crush on me?”

  Carina ran her brush through her straight hair. She pulled it into a ponytail, then shook her head and let it down over her shoulders. “Aren’t you allowed to have a boyfriend now that you’re in grad school?”

  Sheila’s parents were wealthy industrialists from Shanghai and spared no expense on her education, but they insisted that she forego dating until college graduation since relationships would distract her and ruin her GPA.

  “I’ve had plenty of boyfriends they don’t know about.” Sheila laughed.

  Strange. Carina didn’t know about them either.

  “Like who? Dylan?” Carina blurted. Oh. Why. Oh. Why? She didn’t care. Sheila and Dylan were just friends, weren’t they?

  “Not Dylan, silly. We’ll talk later. How about I take you shopping in San Francisco this afternoon?”

  “Sounds good. I’m going in the morning to get acclimatized to the commute.” Carina patted some blush to accentuate her cheekbones and dabbed on lip gloss. “Where should I meet you?”

  “There’s a high-end shopping center on Market right off the Powell Street station,” Sheila said. “I’m sure we’ll find some cute outfits. I hate to tell you, but those East Coast power suits are so out.”

  “What do you mean?” Carina flipped through her wardrobe. “My suits are all new.”

  “And you bought them?”

  “Well no, my mother, but that’s not—”

  “That’s the problem.” Sheila laughed. “I couldn’t help but look through them when you unpacked last night. They look like your mother bought them.”

  A sinking feeling weighed Carina’s stomach. Since she was the last intern chosen, she had to make a good impression. If it hadn’t been for a last minute opening and her business frat’s connections pushing for her at the bank, she’d be inventing her own internship at a nonprofit this summer.

  Sheila named a few more upscale stores in the vicinity and agreed to meet her for lunch around noon.

  After hanging up, Carina picked up Dylan’s towel and resisted sniffing it. She couldn’t OD on his masculine pheromones. Nope, not when her entire future career hung on this internship. Once she was a success, she could think about dating, but not until she made at least Executive Director at one of the bulge bracket investment banks.

  She dropped Dylan’s towel into the hamper and stepped into a pair of Ferragamo pumps.

  ~ ~ ~

  Dylan folded an omelet and laid it on a square stoneware plate, then set a slice of stoneground whole wheat toast on the corner near the fresh strawberries. He heard Carina’s door open and quickly poured the cooling cappuccino down the drain. Fortunately, he’d already extracted another shot of espresso.

  His back turned toward her, he dipped the frothing nozzle into a pitcher and spun the milk.

  Carina was definitely a hard nut to crack. Last night, there’d been a moment where he thought she’d kiss him. But that would have been too easy, and in a strange way, he was glad she had abruptly turned toward her door.

  He wasn’t a teenager, passed that stage long ago, but from the moment he saw her at The Brewed Force he felt like he was walking across a high wire over a river filled with hungry piranhas. He couldn’t stop thinking about her: what she wanted from life, what would make her happy, and whether she thought about him or not. And the knockout? She was anything but flashy. No dazzling smile, no swarm of heated perfume, no vibrating eyelashes and full throttled giggling like the women who came on to him on a daily basis.

  The air behind him was charged with sparks and possibilities. His ears prickled at the sound of her tiny steps. Was she barely smiling, serene, with that alluring upturn of her delicate lips, her eyes shyly downcast? Would she raise those dark eyelashes slowly, almost sleepily to meet his eye, or would she avert her gaze, then float through the room, unaffected by his presence?

  Time stretched as the milk filled the pitcher. How long could she stand there and not say anything? He switched off the frother and swiveled toward her. Grinning at her quick turn to hide her blushing face, he poured a milk heart into her espresso.

  “I promised you one of these every morning.”

  A tentative smile slid onto her face. “You don’t have to. I usually get up early. I have to be on the train by six.”

  He pulled out a chair. “But not today. It’s Sunday.”

  “Thanks.” She sat and picked up the demitasse. “This is too beautiful to drink.”

  “I aim to please.” Dylan squirted a dollop of whipped cream onto her plate and set it in front of her. “I’m afraid we didn’t get off to a good start yesterday.”

  “What do you mean?” Carina sipped the coffee, licking the foamy milk from her lips.

  He averted his gaze and dug into his own plate. If she’d quit flicking her tongue at him, he might be able to avoid fantasies inappropriate for a Sunday morning.

  Wiping his lips with a napkin, he cleared his throat and glanced at her. At this angle, she looked young and innocent, her baby face sporting a tiny nose and rosy, cherubic lips. Her eyebrows, however, were remarkably straight and strong for an Asian and not over-plucked. He liked that.

  Stop analyzing her. She’s your roommate and most don’t hang out together. Why should this be any different?

  “I want you to feel comfortable living here.” His gaze drifted to her tailored blouse.

  Her fork stopped right before her mouth. “Let’s see, I went to a party, chugged down alcoholic drinks, woke up late, but hey, I’ve got coffee and eggs. I’m good.”

  “You’re good, huh?” He couldn’t help the smirk from lifting his cheeks.

  She pointed the fork at him. “I’m a good sport. Everyone says bankers drink a lot. I had to show you I’m not a light weight. The only problem is to stay in control while everyone else gets drunk.”
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br />   “Potted plant trick.” He made a pouring motion. “Stand next to one and slip the drink to the tree.”

  “Oh, the poor plant.” She covered her mouth and glanced around the apartment, her gaze stopping at his collection of bromeliads. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time. And thanks, I enjoyed the party.”

  “Even though we disturbed your sleep?” He couldn’t help exaggerating that point like it was a capital crime in her book.

  “You did. But once I start working I hope you’ll be more considerate.”

  “Sure.” He shrugged. “Nothing to it. I’ll live like a monk all summer. No overnight guests, like you specified in your long list of rules.”

  “Don’t strain yourself on my account. Why don’t we close the deal now? You get the haircut and plan on the end of summer banquet.” She picked up her coffee cup and held it against her lips.

  “Miss work and spend the day with me and you’ll get your date.” He raised his cup and clinked it against hers. “I’ll even put on a suit, but no haircut.”

  “Oh, really?” She licked the rim of her cup, her pointed tongue lapping at the foamy heart. “If you think I’m cutting a day of work, it’ll never happen.”

  Women don’t fight fair, and it’s too early in the morning for a hard-on.

  He folded his arms across the table to strike a casual pose. “One of these days you’ll get carried away.”

  “By what, your coffee making skills?” She inhaled, savoring the brew. “Mmm … I’ve heard you’re quite legendary.”

  “Legendary doesn’t begin to cover it.” His erection throbbed, eager to prove her point, especially since she was practically French kissing the coffee cup.

  When she noticed him watching, her eyelids flickered and she smiled. “What’s the blend?”

  “Bl-lend?” Dylan cleared his throat, stuffing aside thoughts of undressing her. Coffee skills, right. “I use only organic, fair-trade coffee. Hand-roasted, Ecuadorian with a healthy shot of Ethiopian. Like it?”

  “Love it.” She took another provocatively slurping sip. “Smooth, but with a punch. Kind of like you.”