Walk of Shame (Love Unexpectedly, #4)

by Lauren Layne

“You went shopping, Dorothy!” I say happily. He stares at me. “I don’t shop.” Of course not. Far too frivolous. “No, that makes sense,” I say, pointing at his feet. “Glinda would have given these to you.”

But there was no Marley, no one to utter the code word, and so I drowned all my regrets about my parents and their unhappy marriage and my loneliness with Grey Goose citron.

So I have until Wednesday to figure out how to act when I see him. For now, though . . . I take a hot shower, change into Lululemon pants and a comfy sweater, and spend the rest of the afternoon and evening catching up with my old friends Phoebe, Monica, Chandler, and the rest of the gang.

I can’t have a would-be client thinking I’d go gabbing about her case with the annoying girl who lives in my building.” I can’t help the smile. “Have you ever gabbed in your life? I’d kill to see it.”

“It would seem that my incentive to leave and my incentive to stay are one and the same.”

“You should have told me, but I’ll forgive you if you give me a bite of that. Calories don’t count when they come from someone else’s plate.” “Forgive me for what?” I ask as I hold up a forkful of tiramisu to her mouth. She cleans the fork. “For not telling me,” she says around the dessert. “Telling you . . .?” Marley rolls her eyes. “That you like the lawyer. Heck, you didn’t even tell me that you knew him. Gimme another bite, and I’ll forgive you for that too.”

“Yes.” “Yes what?” I whisper. He glances down at me, his expression unreadable. “Yes, perfectly ridiculous.” I can’t help the smile.

I start to pull my hand away, but he grabs it before I can retreat, and I suck in a startled breath at the feel of his warm fingers against my palm. “Georgiana.” I swallow. “Yeah.” “I’m sorry. About the other day. I’m not . . . I’m not good at this.” “At what?” He looks away. “Talking with women. I mean, I’m great with clients, I can hold my own with cocktail party small talk, but this thing with us . . . it’s different. I don’t know what to do with you. I can’t decide. . . .”

“Let me go so I can go be with a guy who actually likes me.” “Not a fucking chance,” he growls. His fingers spread wide on my back, pulling me all the way to him as he lowers his head. And Andrew Mulroney kisses me.

I was wrong, I realize. First kisses aren’t always a disappointment. Sometimes they’re perfect from the very start.

He makes a low growling noise, and I realize that kissing Andrew Mulroney is nothing like it’s supposed to be. Apparently the man is fastidious and uptight in all things except this, because his kiss is unapologetic and carnal, disregarding the fact that we’re in the middle of a sidewalk at the crack of dawn and that we don’t even like each other.

His body, though—he wasn’t sure it would ever forget what it had felt like to finally, finally give in to his want for her.

“Thank you,” he murmurs. “You’re welcome.” I bite my lip. “I can leave if you want, or I’m happy to stay—” “Stay.” His eyes close again, and his next words are a sleep-filled murmur, but they stop my heart for a second anyway. “Need you,” he says, his voice low and exhausted. Need you. Andrew Mulroney needs me. And go ahead, call me a sissy, but my eyes water, just a little. It’s sort of nice to be needed. Especially by him.

“Because when it comes to you, I seem to make a mess of everything. Because saying nothing at all seemed better than saying the wrong thing. And forgive me if I’m wrong here, but the one and only text you sent me wasn’t exactly earth-shattering, am I right?”

“To punish me.” He sighs tiredly and rests his forehead against mine. “To move on from you.”

“I may have misled you about something.” “Hmm?” I say, still basking in the warmth of his closeness. “When I kissed you the other day”—his fingers spread wide over my back, coaxing me even closer—“that wasn’t a mistake. Not even fucking close. Or if it was, it’s one I intend to make all over again.”

And she’d chosen him. Somehow, this gorgeous, compelling creature seemed to want to spend time with him.

Shit. He was screwed. How had this woman gone from being the aggravating menace of his early mornings to the center of everything?

Andrew.” “Yes?” “Are we . . . dating?” He gave her hand a brief squeeze before leaning back in his chair. He picked up the menu but didn’t look at it. “When you gave Hailey Ash’s number, did you simultaneously delete it from your phone?” She snorted. “Um, no. It’s Ash Morrigan, Andy.” “Georgiana.” “Hmm?” He smiled and held her gaze. “Lose that phone number.” Her answering smile told him she knew what he was trying to say. You’re mine.

She wasn’t just hot. She was enchanting. And he was enchanted.

She wasn’t blindly waiting for some fairy tale; she was just smart enough to believe that she deserved it.

“That’s how you know, Georgiana,” he says, bending down so his lips are to my ear, his next words just for me, not the crowd. “That’s how you know I love you.”

“Love me back,” he whispers. “Please love me back.” I press my face to his neck. “You’re ridiculous,” I whisper. “Of course I love you back.” Andrew’s eyes close, his head going back in relief, before he looks down at me with a smile. “If you really love me, we’ll never speak of the singing episode again.” I grin back. “If you really love me, you’ll do an encore whenever I demand it.”