“How much?”
“Thousands.”
Her mouth rounded. “What? Why?”
“We don’t know.” As he led her back inside, he checked the time. “Want to get dressed and go to dinner?”
A tease of a smile curved over her lips. “Dressed or dressed up?”
“Lady’s choice.” Part of his job meant versatile clothes that looked good no matter where he went. He much preferred cargos and a T-shirt but not with her. He’d fit in wherever she wanted to have dinner.
“Have you ever lived with a woman?” she asked over her shoulder as she walked toward the bedroom again.
“No.”
She paused at the door. “Have you ever had a roommate who was a woman?”
“No.”
“Vacationed with a lady friend?” She grinned, leaning against the doorjamb.
“No. What’s up?”
“All of my stuff is here.”
Yeah, he’d registered that when they’d returned inside. It was right by the door, and the butlers were notoriously discreet, but they’d dropped her luggage here while they’d been outside. Time would only tell if someone had seen them, taken a picture, and sold it to the highest bidder. If that happened, he’d be homicidal. But they’d cross that bridge later.
“I know how light you pack,” she continued. “And I have a lot. Mentally prepare yourself for how much counter space I’ll use.”
He laughed. “I’ve traveled the world with you, Jules. I’m aware.”
She turned, tugging her shirt over her head as she walked into the bedroom. “Okay. You’ve been warned. I also take a while to get dressed.” She looked over her naked shoulder. “Much longer if you come in here and distract me.”
When their two weeks of vacation were over, he was going to miss this part of her. Not the assignment.Her.The version ofher who looked over her shoulder and laughed like no one was watching.
“Plan to take longer,” he said, following her in.
Chapter Twenty-Two
After two more days without her sister, Jules was finally able to lure Abigail out of her bungalow. She tipped her head back, keeping her eyes closed against the sunny sky and ignoring Jules as she inspected her for any remaining effects of the flu from hell.
Abigail’s color had returned.
She didn’t groan and moan any time food was mentioned, and as they drank their tropical-fruit smoothies, Jules couldn’t tell that Abigail had been sick at the start of the trip. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”
“Yeah. Now are we finally going to talk about the pictures?” Abigail stirred her smoothie with a straw. “Because wow, you and Rhys sure know how to spark chemistry through a telephoto lens.”
Jules’s gaze jumped to the table next to theirs, where Rhys watched the crowded beachside café for trouble while sipping a coffee and pretending to read a newspaper. He’d likely heardevery word Abigail had said, but Jules was thankful he offered no reaction.
She and Rhys hadn’t had sex yet. It was almost sweet and almost filthy. The man was intent on showing her a hundred different ways they could get each other off without burying his cock inside her. Part of this had to be building her up, edging her closer and closer to what she wanted—what they both wanted—because even though he came as often as she did, he was hanging on by the same thread she was.
Jules picked up her phone and shot him a quick text message.
Jules:I think tonight’s the night.
He casually picked up the phone and read it.
Rhys:You’re cooking dinner?
