Page 75 of Pretend To Be Mine

I opened the door, suddenly very aware that I was wearing leggings and an oversized sweatshirt with a hole in the sleeve. “You’re early.”

“I brought breakfast.” He held up the bag. “Figured you might not have eaten yet.”

“It’s two in the afternoon.”

“Brunch, then.” His eyes crinkled with amusement. “Can I come in?”

I stepped aside and inhaled the scent of him and those pastries he was carrying. He looked scrumptious. I was hungry, but I would settle for feasting on him. He was wearing dark jeans once again. But instead of a dress shirt or a T-shirt, he had on a henley that somehow was even sexier.

My god, it was unfair for one human to get this many good looks.

He set the pastry bag on my table, then froze, seeing the sketchbook. “What are these?”

“Nothing.” I moved quickly to cover the drawings, but he caught my wrist.

“Elizabeth, are these your new designs?”

“I was just playing around. They’re not finished or anything.”

“They’re incredible.” He carefully moved my hand aside so he could see better. “Why didn’t you show me these?”

“Because they’re not ready. They’re just ideas, rough concepts⁠—”

“They’re awesome.”

“You really think so?”

“I know so.” He was still studying the drawings. I could practically see his brain working.

“I can show you more on the plane,” I said, covering the sketches again. “But these really are just me messing around.”

“Fine. But Elizabeth? Stop hiding your talent. Stop playing it safe.” He caught my chin, tilting my face up to his. “I’ve seen what you can do when you’re brave. Last night proved it.”

The kiss he gave me was soft, unhurried, completely different from the desperate urgency of last night. When he pulled back, he was smiling.

“Come on. We should head to the airport. We’re burning daylight.”

“Oh! Right now! I haven’t even finished packing.”

“Then you should hurry. The pilot said there is a storm rolling in. He wants to try and beat it.”

I nodded. “Of course. Okay.”

The next fifteen minutes were a whirlwind with me finishing what I had started two days ago.

Adrian’s car was waiting for us as he lugged my suitcase downstairs. He didn’t say it, but I knew he was not thrilled with the whole no elevator situation. Maybe one day I would get to live in a building with an elevator.

When the car pulled directly on the tarmac and parked alongside a small plane, I almost freaked out. Sure, I’d seen it done in the movies, but in real life?

Ho-ly shit.

I’d never been on a private plane before.

The exterior was sleek and white with “Blackwell” written in elegant script along the side. But inside?

Inside was a different world.

Cream leather seats that looked more like armchairs. Polished wood accents. Soft lighting that created an atmosphere more reminiscent of a luxury hotel than an aircraft. There was a couch along one side, a table that could seat six, and through a doorway I could see what looked like an actual bedroom.