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Back in her room, she slipped on a white scoop-neck tee, black cardigan and slim-fitting pair of jeans. She stepped into ballet flats and hurried downstairs, the smell of coffee wafting in from the kitchen. She was invigorated, undaunted, ready to go. And then she saw Adam.
You’ve got to be kidding me. She’d come downstairs prepared to work, but she hadn’t bargained on Adam’s bare chest. Or his bare stomach. Or an extra eight hours of scruff along his jaw and the narrow trail of hair below his belly button. More than that, she hadn’t bargained on any part of him glistening with sweat.
“Morning.” He stood in the kitchen, consulting his phone. “I made coffee. Let me get you a mug.” He turned, opened the cabinet and reached for a coffee cup. Gentlemanly behavior, all while showing off the sculpted contours of his shoulders and defined ripples of his back.
Her eyes drifted south, calling into question whether the front really was the best. The way he filled out the rear view of his basketball shorts made a compelling case for the back. Then she remembered what that view looked like without clothes. She was all kinds of conflicted over the best-side verdict.
“Cream? Sugar?” he asked, filling her mug.
“Both, please.” She shook her head in an attempt to think straight. “I’ll do it.”
“Help yourself.” He gestured to a small white pitcher and sugar bowl. “Sleep well?”
She spooned the sugar into the mug, gluing her focus to the steaming coffee. “I did, thank you. I’m ready to get started whenever you are. We have a lot of ground to cover today.”
“Already got in my workout.”
“So I see.” She turned, but even a fraction of a second was too long to look at Adam right now. Her eyes darted all over the room, desperate for something undesirable to look at.
“Is something wrong?”
“No. It’s just...” Her voice trailed off, betraying her. “You can’t put on a shirt?”
“Why? Does it bother you? I can’t help the fact that I’m hot.” He grabbed her attention with his blazing smile, smoothing his hand over the flat plane of his stomach.
“Excuse me?”
“Hot, as in temperature hot.”
Damn him. “It’s a little difficult for us to keep things professional when you’re traipsing around the house half-dressed.”
“I assure you, I have never once traipsed.”
“Regardless, isn’t it polite to wear a shirt to breakfast?”
“It is. My mother always made me wear one when I was a kid. She also told me to floss every day and wear clean underwear. So I’ll be two-for-three today. Nobody’s perfect.”
He knows what he’s doing. He’s making me crazy because he can. “Look, we have a ton of work to do. I suggest you grab a shower so we can start.”
“It’ll go faster if I have someone to scrub my back.”
“Adam, please. The contract I signed? No fraternization or interpersonal relations? I take those things very seriously, and I know your dad does, too.”
“We both know the only way to enforce that is the honor system.” His eyebrows bounced.
“Yeah, well, you need to keep your honor system in your pants.”
“Hey, you’re the one suggesting showers. Not me.”
Melanie exhaled in exasperation. “Things will go smoother today if you cooperate. Why do you have to joke around about everything?”
“Because it’s Saturday and I work my ass off all week and I’d much rather read a book or catch a game on TV than practice answers to interview questions and talk about whether or not you think Oprah will like me.”
“First off, Oprah said no. Secondly, I know you hate this, but we have to put the scandal to an end.” Her phone buzzed. “Excuse me. I should check this.” She reached into her pocket. The push notification on her phone did not bring good news. “There’s something new in the papers this morning. A reporter got your ex-fiancée to comment on the scandal.” She shook her head, feeling a little sorry for Adam. “This is why you need to let me do my job. This can’t be what you want.”
Adam buried his face in his hand. Jack wandered over and nudged Adam’s hip. “Hey, buddy.” Adam’s voice was tinged in sadness, which seemed odd considering his fondness for his dog. He crouched down and looked Jack in the face, ruffling his ears. “No, that’s not what I want.”
* * *
Adam parked himself on the long leather bench in his walk-in closet and untied his sneakers, cradling his cell phone between his ear and shoulder. His mother answered after a few rings.
