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His thumb brushes over my lower lip. “At a motel in Oakwood.”
“That’s over an hour away.”
“Yeah. Halfway to Seattle.”
I grab his hand and twine my fingers through his. “Come on, then. Let me show you my bungalow.”
He smiles. It’s brilliantly wide, promising many more to come, and his hand tightens around mine. “Lead the way.”
Three Weeks Later
Phillip leans back on the couch with my laptop braced on his knees. He’d only bothered to put on his pants, and his bare chest is still in full, delicious view.
“This is good,” he says.
I fold my legs up beneath me. “Honestly?”
“Honestly,” he says. His face is set in the concentrated frown I’ve come to love.
He’s reading the first ten chapters of my work-in-progress. Apart from Becky, I’ve never shown my writing to anyone sinceOne Fatal Stepcame out and sold two hundred and seven copies. In total.
“I think it’s better thanFatal,” he says.
Oh, he’s read that one, too. He’d bought it even when I told him I’d give him a copy for free. And when he returned the following weekend from Seattle, he’d already read it cover to cover.
“Okay, you’re just saying that,” I say.
“No, I mean it. It has a really strong start. And,” he says, looking over at me, “I’m really liking this mysterious businessman.”
I chuckle. “You are, are you?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, he’ll soon be suspected of the murder.”
“Mmm. But our intrepid heroine—who is falling deeply in love with him, by the way—is going to save the day.”
“She is. In about two hundred more pages.” I fold up the long sleeves of my shirt.Hisshirt, really. It’s the only thing I’m wearing.
It’s Friday, and he arrived a few hours ago to spend the weekend here. With me. In my house. In Pinecrest. We had takeout, then we’d had sex on my couch, and now he’s reading my manuscript.
I can’t quite believe it. That I get to live this life, that he’s here, and that happiness has taken up permanent residence in my chest.
He taps his fingers along the side of my laptop. “I might have some notes about the legal process, later. About the investigation, but also about what laws actually apply to a foreign national murdered abroad.”
“Lay it all on me,” I say. “You can be my law consultant on fictional criminal cases.”
“Will I make it into the acknowledgments?”
“Maybe,” I say.
He shakes his head. “Scratch that. I want into the dedication.”
I laugh. “You’re getting greedy.”
“Yes,” he says and puts the laptop down. He looks at me across the room with unbridled lust. “I thought that was obvious by now.”
I chuckle, stretching my bare legs in front of me, and loving the way his eyes dip down. “Yeah, I’ve noticed.”
