Page 99 of Pretender

She pulls away, her eyes wide, and my heart skips a beat.

“What’s wrong?” I rasp.

“Jamie and Sophie.”

I shake my head, trying to comprehend what’s going on, still cupping her face as she turns towards the door.

“What?”

The world crashes back to me with the sound of someone talking in the hallway.

“I forgot!” Linnea whispers, grabbing my hands and we turn at the same time to the two women entering the open space.

“Hey,” Linnea squeals towards them, and gestures for me to move so she can get off her barstool. I’m still dazed, but painfully aware of my erection as I step away from Linnea. Hoping the women are more focused on their friend who’s now running towards them across the living room, I adjust my trousers and shirt and drag a hand through my hair.

“You must be Aiden,” one of them says, and I recognise her voice and American accent. She walks towards me with her arms out, her long black curls bouncing with every step. “I’m Jamie. We talked on the phone.”

I smile and accept her hug, making sure she doesn’t get too close to my midsection.

“Nice to meet you,” I say into her hair and stretch back up.

The redhead walks over and reaches out a hand, her gaze scanning over me.

“I’m Sophie.”

“Good to meet you.”

“And you,” Sophie says, and I don’t miss the knowing glance they exchange as Sophie steps back to her wife.

I straighten the sleeves of my shirt again, not sure where Linnea wants me now. She invited me to meet them, but that was for tomorrow. They probably have plans to catch up tonight.

“Uh,” I start, catching Linnea’s eye between Sophie and Jamie, but before I can say anything, Jamie sighs loudly.

“I need a shower,” she says. “Do you mind if we freshen up for a bit before we catch up, Linnea?”

“Of course, let me show you to my library slash guest room.” Then she turns to me. “Wait here for a minute? Finish your food? I’ll just get their mattress and stuff and be right back.”

“Can I help?” I ask.

“No, I can do it myself.”

“I’m sure you can, but I’m here.”

“Let the man help, Linnea.” Jamie laughs and pulls me along. As we all walk up the stairs we make polite conversation about their flight from New York, their jobs as marketing executives, but I’m also absorbed in Linnea’s house. Every detail seems intentional. When I walked in here earlier, it was as if I’d come home. It was an altogether overwhelming feeling of belonging. And now, seeing the first floor—her library room with the one reading chair in the middle, the soft cushions, and fluffy circular rug—it makes me never want to leave. Even her shoe room is not just a room; it’s clearly designed by her, with floral wallpaper and a glass-blown tulip chandelier and custom-made shelves painted dark green.

“The mattress is on the top floor,” Linnea says from my side.

Upstairs. Her bedroom, I presume.

“Just pop your stuff in here,” Linnea tells her friends, pointing into the library. “We’ll be right back.”

Following Linnea’s swaying hips up the final stairs makes it hard to think about anything other than how much I want to grab them and press her against me. She stops in the doorway of her room and turns to me.

I step up to her, and she doesn’t move. Just follows my face as I come closer.

“Hi,” she whispers.

“Hey.” I stand so close the heat from her body reaches me.