Naked Read Online Free PDF Page B

sudden leap to obsequiousness, but hell. I didn’t know the guy beyond what? A warning, a karaoke serenade and a drunken blow job in a dark room. He hadn’t quite seemed the servile type to me, but then I was forever being surprised by what I didn’t expect.
    “Thank you,” Patrick said a little stiffly. “Alex, this is Olivia Mackey. Olivia, Alex Kennedy. Olivia is an independent contractor with her own graphic design company, and Alex does consulting for several international corporations.”
    Coffeepot carafe filled with water in his hand, Alex turned while Patrick made the cocktail party introductions. He and I shared a look past Patrick’s kimono. I gave Alex a tiny shrug. I didn’t get it, either.
    “We met,” I told Patrick. “What is up with you?”
    “I’m just being a good host.”
    “Thanks, Patrick,” Alex said, and set about making the coffee.
    He figured out his way around Patrick’s kitchen, faltering only once, when he opened the wrong cupboard to pull out the coffee pods, and found the spice jars, instead. I turned inmy chair to watch him. He was no casual houseguest. He knew how to make himself at home.
    Patrick and I could hold entire conversations without words, but this morning he was deliberately not giving me the right signals. Or he was misreading mine. He could be selective that way. Before I could get him to tell me what the hell was going on, Alex turned from the coffeemaker.
    “Anyone hungry for pancakes?”
    “I couldn’t,” I exclaimed.
    Just as Patrick said, “Alex, you’re a darling.”
    Patrick looked at Alex. Alex looked at me. I looked at Patrick.
    “Actually,” I said, “I should get going. I’ve got some work to do—”
    “On Sunday?” Patrick asked incredulously. “What’s the point of working for yourself if you can’t take the weekend off?”
    I stood and stretched. “The point of working for myself is that I can work whenever I want.”
    “Yeah, and work whenever you have to.” Alex leaned against the counter, one long leg crossed over the other at the ankles.
    I nodded. He understood. Patrick, who worked eighty-hour weeks but also took a month’s vacation every year, understood the importance of hard work, but would probably never comprehend why I’d quit a stable salary to go out on my own.
    I hugged my former boyfriend and kissed his cheek. Patrick softened, finally, his embrace unwilling but inevitable. He held my face still and looked into my eyes.
    “Don’t work too much, Livvy. It’s the holidays.”
    I put my hands over his on my cheeks and carefully peeled away his fingers to release his grip. “You want me to take back all the presents I bought you?”
    He laughed the first real Patrick laugh I’d heard in a few days, and squeezed me close. He whispered in my ear, “Remember what I said.”
    Most of the time when Patrick hugged me I could take it for what it was—a physical expression of the affection and love between two friends. Platonic friends. And then there were the times when I breathed in the scent of him, the cologne I bought for him so many years ago and which he’d never switched from, even though he could afford something trendier and more expensive. When I felt the press of his body along mine and I had to close my eyes and remind myself to let him go, and when I found it almost impossible to do so.
    Still locked in Patrick’s arms, I forced myself to open my eyes. Alex’s gaze found mine over Patrick’s shoulder. With that scrutiny as motivation, I patted Patrick’s back quickly and stepped away, hoping my nipples weren’t hard through my T-shirt or that my cheeks weren’t as flushed as they felt.
    Patrick caught my wrist before I could get entirely away. “Stay for a while. It’s Sunday.”
    “Patrick…”
    He didn’t let go. “Alex, tell Liv she should stay.”
    “Olivia. You should stay.” Alex, still leaning, smiled.
    I smiled, too, even as I turned and gave Patrick a good, hard poke. “I have a