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“You grew up in LA, right?” Georgina asks.

“Correct.”

“Why did your mother move to the East Coast? Does she have family back there? Did she remarry?”

What the serious fuck? She’s relentless. A dog with a meaty bone. “Uh, she... yeah, my mother grew up in Scarsdale, and has family back there. She’s never remarried, but she does have a serious boyfriend. This guy named Lee. They live together.”

“Oh, how saucy. Good for her.” She laughs. “I think it’s wonderful for your mother to have a companion later in life. Do you like Lee? Is he nice? Does he join in when you and Mom do yoga?”

Seriously, how the fuck am I talking about this with Georgina? I’ve had that same goddamned framed photo on my desk since I moved into this house five years ago, and nobody has ever noticed it or asked me about it. Not once. But in walks Georgina Ricci, the Intrepid Reporter, and in a matter of minutes, she’s sniffed it out—and then pushed and pushed for more and more. I thought telling Georgina that story in the garage about my father and golf would more than satisfy her hunger for personal details. Is she going to be on my ass for stories like this about my life all week?

I want to say, “Enough about this. Moving on.” But I’m positive that will only backfire on me. Spur her on more. Put her on the scent. So, instead, I say calmly, “Lee is a nice enough guy. He’s really quiet, though, so it’s hard to get to know him. But my mother loves him, and that’s all that matters to me. And, yes, he occasionally joins in on yoga. But just barely.”

Georgina giggles. “I love hearing you talk about your close relationship with your mother. Does she come visit you in California? I bet she’s so proud of you and all you’ve accomplished.”

Jesus Christ. When will this torture end? If Georgina loves mothers so much, maybe she should call up hers and have a nice, long chat, and leave mine alone. But there’s no way I’m going to let Georgina know this is a sensitive topic for me. If I do, my gut tells me she’ll only be more intrigued—which would make this one hell of a long week for me.

“My mother visits me occasionally,” I lie. “I’ve actually offered to set her up in a place in Malibu, right on the beach, but she prefers living at her current place with Lee. Lee’s got family in the City, apparently. Plus, he’s got some health issues that prevent him from traveling, so they’ve decided to stay put in Scarsdale for the foreseeable future.”

Georgina glides to me, wedges herself between my thighs, slides her arms around my neck, and nuzzles her nose against mine. “You want to hear something super kinky?”

“There’s no need to ask me that question. My answer to it will always be a resounding yes.”

She giggles. “The fact that you keep that photo on your desk, and visit your mom regularly—and do yoga and play Scrabble with her, and make her happiness your top priority...” She physically swoons in my arms with a heavy, happy, sexy sigh. “Oh, God, Reed. All of that really turns me on.”

The butterflies in my stomach turn into a hard-on—one that’s giving me instant amnesia about the annoyance I’ve been feeling about this topic. I slide my arms around Georgie and smile broadly at her. “That’s what turns you on? What kind of sick fuck are you, Georgina Ricci?”

She giggles. “Maybe when you go back East on your next business trip, I could come with you to meet your mom? I’d love to chat with her about what you were like as a little boy.”

Well, that’s a nonstarter, obviously. But she feels so good in my arms, and smells so damned good, I find myself lying to her face. “Maybe. We’ll have to see how scheduling works out.”

Squealing, Georgina kisses my cheek, and then proceeds to lay soft kisses up and down my jawline that harden my thickening dick to steel. Her lips against my ear, she whispers, “I’m so glad I’m staying here with you, instead of at a hotel. Seeing you in your natural habitat has been a huge turn-on for me.”

I turn my head and bring my mouth to hers, and when my tongue slides into her mouth, fireworks explode inside me. We kiss for several delicious minutes, our tongues dancing, our lips devouring, our bodies becoming more and more ravenous. Finally, when we disengage, Georgie looks as aroused as I feel.

“Come on, baby,” I say, running my thumb over her bee-stung lower lip. “Let’s take this house tour upstairs.”

Chapter 4

Georgina

Freshly showered and clad in a white tank top and soft, pink shorts with “Sassy Pants” on the ass, I knock on Reed’s bedroom door.

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