As she made some notes on the iPad, she’d brought with her, he lazily took in her appearance. Her hair was arranged with one of those clip-doodads he’d seen so many women use to bind their hair. She wore very minimal makeup as far as he could tell but he was no expert. If it wasn’t caked on, he had no idea what women put on their faces. No matter what she used, she was beautiful, and she was easy to talk to as if he’d known her for a long time.
“Then we’ll need a headliner for the last slot, and maybe we could allow an hour for the final band of the night. The rest should be half-hour slots, longer if we find there is a reason we can’t book the night.
“I don’t think we’ll have a problem,” he said with a shrug. “Never has been in the past anyway.”
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The light from the moon shone through the window where the curtains were slightly parted bathing the room in a soft glow. Her gaze took in her surroundings and realized she was in her new apartment, her new home. Leaning over to retrieve her phone from the nightstand, the screen lit up with a touch and the time read 3:00 am. She placed the phone down and settled back on her pillow. She had another dream, starring her in another life. The man in her dreams always told her everything would be all right but it hadn’t been. Everything went sideways in a way neither of them had expected.
The women went wild for that romantic crap and now he had his own ideas on how to please a woman. It wasn’t just about sex–though that was an excellent benefit to a relationship. He also enjoyed, seeing the woman he was with, light up from a small gesture as simple as walking her to her door after a date or buying her little things she enjoyed like her favorite movies or music.
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Rowan is at her car and she glances up at Maverick’s apartment. She believes she saw the curtains flutter as if he might be watching her.
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With his hand still on the doorknob, he turned to face her. His dark shades of blue searching hers – for God knew what – but she didn’t mind his curiosity.
Rowan waited for Maverick to answer but her question seemed to have stumped him into silence.
How did he know she liked Earl Grey lattes with just a splash of vanilla? There were a million other ways she could have taken her tea. She could have liked herbal tea concoctions or green tea with lemon and honey but no, he had brewed her an Earl Grey latte.
