Free Falling for the Wrong Guy by Sara Hantz Page B

it was always spotless, thanks to the housekeeper who’d been with them for years and was well used to his parents’ erratic behavior. It helped that they paid double the hourly rate a housekeeper would normally get.
    “Where are your parents?” she asked.
    He never invited anyone over in the past unless he knew for certain that his mom and dad wouldn’t be around. “Dad’s at his office, and Mom always goes to her therapist on Thursdays,” he said, leaning his arm on the back of the sofa so he was half-facing her. He was too close. If she turned toward him, they’d practically be making out. But he didn’t move away.
    “So we’re alone,” she murmured, seemingly fascinated by the enormous flat-screen TV that hung on the opposite wall.
    “Ruby.” He didn’t know why he said her name. He didn’t know what he was thinking, what he wanted. But something in his voice made her turn her head, and she was so near he could feel her breath on his face. He couldn’t look away. Neither, it seemed, could she.
    Desire made his eyelids grow heavy, and it was all he could do not to sink his hands into her hair and pull her forward. He couldn’t speak, could barely think.
    Still he didn’t move. The choice had to be hers. “Ruby,” he said again.
    Before Drew had time to register what was happening, she’d grabbed a fistful of his sweatshirt, and her lips were on his. The first kiss was soft, tentative. He drew in a deep, shuddering breath, keeping his hands at his sides in case she wanted to back away.
    Then she whispered his name and kissed him with so much intensity, it took his breath away.
    Finally, finally, he had his hands in that hair. He explored her mouth with his tongue. Probing. Tasting. The sensations running through his body made him feel like he was falling. He lowered one hand, traced the contours of her back with the tips of his fingers. For a few seconds, everything that had happened to him over the last year disappeared. It felt like decades since the last time he’d kissed someone.
    Then a picture of Reese popped in his head. She had been the last person he’d kissed. He froze.
    And Ruby instantly pulled back from him.
    “What’s wrong?” she asked, unable to completely hide the hurt expression on her face.
    “I’m just not sure we should be doing this.”
    She bit her lip, confusion and sadness warring for domination on her face. He was such jerk for doing this to her. Before he could stop himself, he drew her forward and held her tightly, glad when she relaxed in his arms.
    After a few minutes, Ruby gently moved away from him, a resigned expression on her face. “Let’s get some lunch,” she said softly.
    She stood up and held out her hand, which he took, allowing himself to be led to the kitchen. He was grateful when she started prepping their salad and sandwiches, acting like nothing had just happened between them. “Dressing?” she asked, taking the rolls from their wrapper and spreading them out on a plate.
    “There’s balsamic and olive oil in the refrigerator, top shelf in the door.” Drew busied himself washing the salad. “Give it a shake to mix it up.”
    Drew moved toward Ruby just as she shook the bottle, which someone had obviously forgotten to close. The top flew off, and brown liquid shot through the air, covering the front of his shirt.
    “Crap!” Ruby exclaimed. She grabbed a cloth from the side and started to pat him with it. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know the top was loose.”
    He took the cloth from her and continued wiping at the dressing, although his shirt was too drenched to save. Drops had splattered his face, and he could taste some that had made it into his mouth. He grimaced; it didn’t taste so good when it wasn’t on salad. “Don’t sweat it. I better take a shower, though. I don’t smell too good at the moment.”
    “I don’t know. I’ve smelled worse perfumes,” she quipped, wrinkling her nose. “On old ladies.” She ran to the side