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“You can stay, rent free, under one condition.”
Her face falls. “I’m not trading my body for room and board. I know your reputation.”
I glare at her. “I have a reputation for taking advantage of women?”
“Well…no, not that.”
“People say I hire prostitutes?”
“No, but…” Her voice trails off.
“But what?” I demand.
She glances away. “I’ve heard that you sleep with a lot of women. That womenthrowthemselves at you.”
“I see,” I say, glowering at her, “so, women supposedly throw themselves at me, but I’d make you sleep with me against your will?”
“No. Sorry. I—” She buries her face in her hands. “I’m sorry.”
She’s adorably flustered, and my annoyance starts to fade. Still, I can’t help but goad her a bit more. “I kept my hands to myself last night, didn’t I?”
Her face is redder than a lobster now, but somehow, it’s still one of the prettiest faces I’ve ever seen. “What’s the condition then?”
“Just that you let me make the eggs from now on,” I say with a grin.
She raises her head to meet my eyes. “Deal.”
“Oh, and one more thing,” I say, rising from the table to carry the dishes to the sink. “When we have sex—and we will—you’ll have to beg for it.”
Her cheeks blaze with heat, but she meets my gaze, her pretty, blue eyes locking onto mine. “What makes you so sure we’ll have sex?”
I chuckle. Teasing her is almost as fun as foreplay.Almost.“Some things are inevitable, sweetheart.”
Five
Annie
It’sbeenfourdayssince we worked out our arrangement, and true to his word, Hamlet has been the perfect gentleman.
You can cut the sexual tension with a knife.
I’ve been sleeping on the couch, because I know there’s no way I can share his bed and keep my hands to myself. Sex isn’t the real problem, though.
Therealproblem is that I know that as soon as I give my body to Hamlet, he’ll also have my heart. I’m halfway in love with him already. It won’t take much to tip over the edge, and I know that he’s the sort of lover who will take me there with little more than a touch.
And I can’t let that happen.
My life is far too chaotic and complicated for love to factor into the equation.
I glance down at the notepad in my lap, examining the last lines I’ve written. If inspiration was a semitruck before Hamlet came home, it’s a freight train now. I’ve never written so many songs in such a short period of time—and some of them are even good.Verygood. I know in my bones that it’s my best work ever.
A cool autumn breeze rustles my hair and the leaves of a nearby oak tree. A cascade of orange leaves flutter to the ground. The effect is magical, making the cabin’s front porch feel like the entrance to an enchanted castle. My rocking chair is a throne.
As for me? I’m the fairy princess, of course. And any moment, my Prince Charming will appear.
Sure enough, Hamlet arrives a few minutes later with a throw blanket. “It’s getting chilly,” he says, wrapping the blanket around my shoulders.
I smile at him. “Thank you.”
