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“Yes, I know. I’m well-acquainted with the female anatomy,” Nate drawled. “Every last inch.”
Kris stared at him a beat too long before she spun on her heels and marched through her foyer. “Good. You brought your A-game. Save it for Gloria.”
Nate shut the door behind him and followed her through the marble corridors and enormous rooms. She gave him a brief description of the spaces they passed—the indoor theater, the game room, the two-story living room—before they stopped in the kitchen, which was larger than the restaurant where they ate dinner the other day.
He ran his hand over the smooth marble of the center island. “So, where is the glorious Gloria?”
A soft chuckle escaped his throat when Kris’s nose wrinkled at his cheesy play on words.
“She’s with her trainer. She’ll be done in a half-hour, and she always comes to the kitchen afterward for one of her disgusting hemp smoothies.” Kris examined him from head to toe. “Good call on the shirt. She loves the Brooks Brothers look.”
“I always dress for the part.” Nate gave her his own once-over. “Speaking of which, should I be offended or flattered that you didn’t feel the need to dress up for our official debut as boyfriend and girlfriend?”
“Neither, because this debut is as about as real as the Stepmonster’s breasts.” Kris hitched her shirt up on her shoulder, covering her bra strap, much to his disappointment. “And FYI, this is my yoga outfit. I didn’t have time to change before you arrived.”
“Yoga, huh?” His mind conjured up someveryinteresting images of Kris in the downward dog position.
She rolled her eyes as if she knew exactly what he was thinking. “Do you remember everything I told you?”
“Of course. I’m a pro.” Nate grabbed an apple from the fruit basket on the island and bit into it. He chewed and swallowed before he asked, “Where’s your staff? I’d expected to see maids, butlers, footmen…”
Another eye roll. “You’ve watched too muchDownton Abbey.This isn’t our full-time house, so we don’t have a full staff. Risa, the housekeeper, maintains everything for us. She has the weekends off.”
If this was her family’s secondary home, Nate couldn’t imagine what their actual home looked like. “Why do you need two houses in the same city?”
“What are you talking about? Our main house is in Seattle.” Realization washed over Kris’s face, and her eyes widened. “You didn’t know that.”
Shit.
“No.”
“It’s something you would know if we were actually dating.”
“Yes.”
They stared at each other. Their dinner conversation the other night had been more topical than personal, save for their brief bonding moment over losing their moms, and they’d been so focused on getting the physical part of their plan right that they hadn’t stopped to think about the fact that they should know basic things about each other—like where Kris was from.
Nate felt a pang in his stomach that he attributed to the apple, not the fact that Kris was from Seattle and might leave soon.
“She’s not going to grill you about me.” Kris recovered, though a troubled look remained in her eyes. “We just have to act the part.”
“She might if everything goes according to plan.”
“We’ll worry about that later. For now, focus on getting her attention.”
Nate finished his apple and tossed it into the state-of-the-art, stainless-steel trash can. “That won’t be a problem.”
“Good. Because she’s coming.”
Sure enough, the sound of footsteps approached.
That was their cue.
Nate snapped into acting mode and leaned against the island, widening his stance while Kris pulled her bun loose and stepped between his legs. She looped her arms around his neck, and he rested his hands on her hips, resisting the urge to fist her hair in his hand and crush his lips to hers. That would make this scene believable for sure, but he didn’t want their first kiss to be fake.
Like he said the other day, he wanted her to want it. Beg for it.
Chalk it up to Nate’s innate competitiveness—nothing got his blood pumping like a good challenge, and he couldn’t think of a better challenge than melting the ice princess in his arms.
But work came first.
The footsteps got louder, and Nate’s pulse kicked up another notch.
Showtime.
