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He gave her a smile before walking to the kitchen. “Taco!” he called, grabbing two bottles of water from the refrigerator as his dog poked his head around the corner. “There you are.” He kneeled down, beckoning him forward. “What were you doin’, buddy?”
Taco’s eyes toggled back and forth between him and Bronte as he dared to take two slow steps toward Chris, his tail between his legs.
“Don’t be shy.”
“Hi, Taco,” Bronte cooed, reaching for his gray and brown fur.
Taco leaned against Chris’s shins. “The vet says he has self-esteem issues.”
“Self-esteem issues?” She took a cautious step toward the dog, but he made no move to make friends.
“Come here. It’s Bronte. We like Bronte,” Chris stage-whispered, leading him to her hand. After a minute, Taco warmed up, letting her pet him for a while, and Chris stood, leaning back against his counter. “You want a tour of the rest of the house?”
She shook her head, looking as if she was about to fall over. “I’m really tired.”
Of course she was. It was after midnight her time. “Come on. Let’s go to bed.”
He led her upstairs, to the back of the house where his bedroom was situated, looking out over the hills. Taco jumped right up onto the bed, settling in between the pillows, and Bronte laughed.
“Self-esteem issues, but clearly spoiled,” Chris joked, setting her suitcase down next to the California king. “I’ll be right back,” he said and turned down the hall.
He grabbed his cell phone, dialing Jillian, his publicist. He needed to change his schedule around, because with the day off filming tomorrow, there was no way he was leaving the house in the next twenty-four hours if he had any say.
* * *
“Hey, sleepyhead, you finally awake?”
Bronte’s eyes begrudgingly opened to find Chris sitting next to her. Even through the fog of sleep, her body responded to him, dressed in a sweaty T-shirt with the sleeves cut off. “Hmm?”
“Since when do you sleep in?” he asked, leading her eyes away from his arm, tanned and veined.
“Since now.” She yawned, her hands moving over the comfiest sheets she had ever slept in.
“Well, wake up. Me and Taco went for a walk and worked out already.”
“Taco works out?”
“Yeah, part of his confidence-building,” he said, jostling the covers. “Come on. It’s ten o’clock.” Leaning down so he was nose-to-nose, he added, “And I want to play.”
She smiled and she sat up, reaching for her glasses on the nightstand out of habit. Obviously, her nightstand was not there, and Chris retrieved them from the top of his dresser for her.
“You fell asleep with them on last night.”
“I was exhausted.”
“I know. You didn’t even snore.”
“I don’t snore.” She smacked at his leg, but he caught her hand, hauling her up out of the bed to kiss her cheek. “I thought you wanted to play.”
“Later.” His eyes went dark, and she knew what that look meant.
When he weaved his hands into her hair, holding her to kiss the corner of her mouth, she swatted at him. “I didn’t even brush my teeth yet.”
“I wasn’t planning on kissing you here.”
“Oh.”
His mouth drifted lower, skimming down her throat, and he lifted her T-shirt over her head. After guiding her back down to the bed, he pressed kisses against her collarbone and sternum, and she let out another, “Ooh.”
