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Her eyes flutter open, dazed.
Someone coughs.
That’s when we both notice our waiter standing there, awkwardly holding a coffee pot. I am suddenly very grateful for the table, which covers my raging erection from view.
“Refill?” she asks.
“I have all I need,” Amelia says.
“I can see that,” the waitress says, winking at a blushing Amelia. Then she leaves us alone.
Amelia scoots over in the booth, putting some distance between us. Like I’m a horny teenager who will try for another kiss if she gives me the least bit of encouragement.
She’s not entirely wrong.
Her effect on me makes no goddamn sense. It was just a kiss. I shouldn’t feel this wired, this hungry.
The prospect of six months living together stretches out in front of me, dangerous and tempting.
I almost wish I didn’t know how sweet her mouth is.
Almost.
I reach for the pen, ready to concede her point that maybe kissing is a bad idea.
But before I can amend the contract she says, “You’re right.”
“About what?” My hand’s tense around the pen.
“Engaged couples kiss. It won’t be convincing if we don’t. And, um,” she looks at the ceiling, “kissing you isn’t uncomfortable.”
“Speak for yourself,” I mutter, resigning myself to six months of hiding hard-ons like a damn teenager.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
I sign and date our napkin before she can come up with any objections.
She does the same. Her signature is looping, easy, pretty. Just like everything else about her.
Jesus, I think.I need to get some sleep. Even her handwriting is doing it for me.
Amelia covers up a yawn of her own.
I check my watch. It’s 3:30 a.m.
“Go home,” I tell her. “I’ll send a car to pick you up tomorrow and move you into my place. We can go ring shopping.”
She smothers another yawn. “Just get me something small that won’t be distracting when I’m drawing.”
Small? She can’t be serious.
Does she know who she’s getting fake engaged to?
Amelia slips on her heels and grabs her purse. Then she takes our napkin contract and carefully places it in her purse.
I resist the urge to tell her to take a cab instead of the subway. She’s a grown woman. She knows how to take care of herself at night in the city. It’s none of my business.
