limes on the counter. Eddie unloads my bags by the front door. I crash onto a couch, smiling dumbly and running my hands back and forth over the smooth fabric. I can certainly get used to this!
“Where do you stay?” I ask Jane, hoping I don’t have a roommate.
“I’m at the hotel. But don’t worry, I’ll be here early every morning and stay as late as you need me to in the evenings. Whatever you need. Just ask.”
“Right now, I need to pass out,” I say with a yawn. “What’s my call time?”
Jane consults her phone. “Tomorrow is 6 a.m.” She frowns over the screen and sticks out her tongue in a fake gag. Yeah, I like her. “Would you like for me to send dinner over this evening?”
“Nah. I’ve got some stuff in my bag if I get hungry.”
“Okay then. I’ll be here at five. Unless you need me before then. And I’ll send this to your attorney as soon as I get back to the hotel. Anything else?” Jane is as perky and prompt as Ernest.
“That’s all,” I answer with an amused smile. Wow. This assistant thing is pretty freakin’ awesome. I should have done this a long time ago.
“Hey, Jane.” I stop her in the doorway. She turns. “Has Devon arrived yet?” I ask before I realize what I’m saying and how desperately hopeful my voice sounds.
“Oh, um...” Jane drags out her answer. She looks to the floor, to me, back to the floor. Then she raises her head and looks to the doorway behind me. I follow her gaze over my shoulder. You’ve got to be kidding me.
Looking every bit the sex symbol, he leans against the hallway doorframe in jeans and a thick wool sweater, hands loosely tucked in his back pockets. Jane clears her throat.
“I’ll be leaving now, Miss Klein,” she says quietly. I don’t even look her way. The front door closes and locks. I stand, turning to face him, a mix of fear and anticipation tumbling through me.
He shrugs off the doorframe, walking slowly, confidently my way. His eyes bore deeper into me with each step. I try desperately to read his face, looking for some sign of what he’s thinking. I’ve promised myself I will not fall back into bed with him. Not without some sort of resolution to this problem. I cannot be that weak. But looking at him looking at me like he does, all my good intentions and resolve prove utterly useless.
Needing relief from the searing navy gaze that unravels me, I turn to the kitchen to get some water. He’s the one stalking me in my own house. He can speak first. Only, he doesn’t, at least not fast enough for me.
“Are you lost?” I ask after pouring a glass of smartwater. He shakes his head with a devilish grin. Normally I love his smiles. This one is annoying as hell. “This is my house...” I’m about to tell him to get his indecisive ass out, but he cuts me off.
“ Our house, Sunshine.”
“Excuse me?” Either I’m hearing things or he’s off-his-meds mad. If he hasn’t solved the Heather problem, I’m damn sure not living with him.
“This is our house. I thought you’d like it.” He looks around the den and kitchen with hopeful yet anxious eyes, like my approval means everything. It’s too much. I place my palms flat on the counter, close my eyes, hang my head and breathe deeply. After our week in Malibu, playing house with him is all I’ve ever wanted. He knows that. His using it to get me back is a blow way below the belt. Still, I refuse to give in unless I’m getting what I want, too.
“Devon, I already told you, I’m not the other woman.”
“No, you’re not.” He walks to the counter and places his hands opposite mine. I raise my gaze to find eyes tinted with enough self-doubt to break my resolve. “Hear me out?”
I sigh, shrug and pull up a barstool. He pushes away from the counter to collect his thoughts like he hasn’t had days to think about this. My patience is waning, mainly because I’m not sure how much longer I can resist him. If he touches me, it’s over. I’ll cave like a
“Where do you stay?” I ask Jane, hoping I don’t have a roommate.
“I’m at the hotel. But don’t worry, I’ll be here early every morning and stay as late as you need me to in the evenings. Whatever you need. Just ask.”
“Right now, I need to pass out,” I say with a yawn. “What’s my call time?”
Jane consults her phone. “Tomorrow is 6 a.m.” She frowns over the screen and sticks out her tongue in a fake gag. Yeah, I like her. “Would you like for me to send dinner over this evening?”
“Nah. I’ve got some stuff in my bag if I get hungry.”
“Okay then. I’ll be here at five. Unless you need me before then. And I’ll send this to your attorney as soon as I get back to the hotel. Anything else?” Jane is as perky and prompt as Ernest.
“That’s all,” I answer with an amused smile. Wow. This assistant thing is pretty freakin’ awesome. I should have done this a long time ago.
“Hey, Jane.” I stop her in the doorway. She turns. “Has Devon arrived yet?” I ask before I realize what I’m saying and how desperately hopeful my voice sounds.
“Oh, um...” Jane drags out her answer. She looks to the floor, to me, back to the floor. Then she raises her head and looks to the doorway behind me. I follow her gaze over my shoulder. You’ve got to be kidding me.
Looking every bit the sex symbol, he leans against the hallway doorframe in jeans and a thick wool sweater, hands loosely tucked in his back pockets. Jane clears her throat.
“I’ll be leaving now, Miss Klein,” she says quietly. I don’t even look her way. The front door closes and locks. I stand, turning to face him, a mix of fear and anticipation tumbling through me.
He shrugs off the doorframe, walking slowly, confidently my way. His eyes bore deeper into me with each step. I try desperately to read his face, looking for some sign of what he’s thinking. I’ve promised myself I will not fall back into bed with him. Not without some sort of resolution to this problem. I cannot be that weak. But looking at him looking at me like he does, all my good intentions and resolve prove utterly useless.
Needing relief from the searing navy gaze that unravels me, I turn to the kitchen to get some water. He’s the one stalking me in my own house. He can speak first. Only, he doesn’t, at least not fast enough for me.
“Are you lost?” I ask after pouring a glass of smartwater. He shakes his head with a devilish grin. Normally I love his smiles. This one is annoying as hell. “This is my house...” I’m about to tell him to get his indecisive ass out, but he cuts me off.
“ Our house, Sunshine.”
“Excuse me?” Either I’m hearing things or he’s off-his-meds mad. If he hasn’t solved the Heather problem, I’m damn sure not living with him.
“This is our house. I thought you’d like it.” He looks around the den and kitchen with hopeful yet anxious eyes, like my approval means everything. It’s too much. I place my palms flat on the counter, close my eyes, hang my head and breathe deeply. After our week in Malibu, playing house with him is all I’ve ever wanted. He knows that. His using it to get me back is a blow way below the belt. Still, I refuse to give in unless I’m getting what I want, too.
“Devon, I already told you, I’m not the other woman.”
“No, you’re not.” He walks to the counter and places his hands opposite mine. I raise my gaze to find eyes tinted with enough self-doubt to break my resolve. “Hear me out?”
I sigh, shrug and pull up a barstool. He pushes away from the counter to collect his thoughts like he hasn’t had days to think about this. My patience is waning, mainly because I’m not sure how much longer I can resist him. If he touches me, it’s over. I’ll cave like a
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