“True, it was paid for in advance. However this isn’t the first time I’ve finished before a lease term was up. JBM usually just sends out an amendment to the contract, tells the property owner to keep the funds already paid. And in regards to another project”—her pause seemed as long as it takes to ferment wine—“I’m not certain I’ll be signing on with JBM for anything else. Lovestruck in Fortune’s Bay is the last in the ten book series, and after they basically told me not to be me anymore, I’m ready to move on.”
Dylan admired her resolve. Admired the fact she didn’t let the publisher bully her around. “So, what does that mean? Surely you won’t give up writing; it’s your passion.”
She shifted on the couch, placed her hand on his chest, gnawed on her lower lip. “Speaking of passion, I’m dying to see the pictures you took on our after-the-storm outing.”
For all he knew, Chloe could’ve very well inflicted that subject change on purpose. But he was willing to let it slide, move the conversation onto something less difficult. He grabbed her glass, placed both his and hers on the table.
“Let’s go upstairs, I’ve printed them all up for you to see.”
Up in the room where all of his photos were stored, Dylan showed Chloe the pics he took during their outing the day before. They were all printed and neatly laid out on the hardwood floor. He hadn’t yet decided which ones were keepers.
“What do you think?” he asked Chloe, who was on her knees, hands over her jaw-dropped mouth, surveying each and every photo.
“Oh, my gosh, Dylan, they’re magnificent.” She grabbed a hold of his hand, dragging him down on the floor beside her. “You took so many. And so many ofme.”
He nudged her shoulder, held her hand. “You, Chloe Davenport, are my muse. You helped me rediscover my passion.”
Absolute desire radiated between them when Chloe inched close, cupped his face with her hands, drew a line along his lips with her thumb. Man, how this woman made his heart thump, his body throb, from one simple touch. The kiss that followed, sparked a low groan out of him, then a whisper, when he broke away and said, “I must admit, it was a little difficult to sleep without you last night. You’re more than welcome to stay here tonight, sleep with me again.”
Forehead against his, she gave a lopsided grin. “I-uh didn’t bring my pjs or my toothbrush.”
“I have a T-shirt you can slip into, an extra toothbrush.”
“Okay”—she ran her fingers through his hair, licked her lips—“but for the record, I didn’t shave my legs.”
“I said sleep, Miss Davenport. Not a lust-filled night of passionate lovemaking.”
If he were lucky, they’d have plenty of time for making love in the future.
