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He’s been away from his fiancée for more than a week, and he’s been greeted as if I couldn’t care less that he’s home.
It doesn’t matter if it’s more a business arrangement than a real relationship. If I was in his place, I might be hurt.
I’m not used to spending much time worrying about other people’s feelings, not since I left home. And lately I’ve had no emotional bandwidth for anything but dealing with Montaigne.
But right now I’m supposed to be Amber. And Amber and William live in the same home and share a bed.
So I roll over onto my side so I’m facing in William’s direction. My eyes have adjusted, and I can see the outline of his head against the pillow, the lines of his lean body under the covers. “So your trip was all right?” I make sure to still sound a little sleepy.
He pauses and turns his head to look in my direction. “Yes. It was fine.”
I search my mind for something to ask that doesn’t require any real knowledge of the purpose of his trip—which I have no idea about.
“Nothing exciting happened?”
“No. Just normal meetings.”
He doesn’t seem very talkative, which is actually a relief. If he doesn’t want to share, then I’m not obliged to act like a supportive partner. “Okay.” Acting on instinct, I lean toward him. Amber told me they kiss sometimes, and surely this is an appropriate situation for a brief peck. “I’m glad you’re home.”
I can see well enough in the dark to find his lips. I press a soft kiss there, prepared to draw back almost immediately.
William’s mouth is perfectly still at first—as if he isn’t sure how to respond. But then his lips soften and cling to mine unexpectedly, and he raises a hand to my hair to hold my head in place before I can withdraw.
He’s a good kisser—that much is clear—and I feel a completely unexpected flutter of pleasure as our lips move together and his tongue flicks out to tease mine lightly.
But then the pleasure is swallowed up by a much deeper swell of panic.
I don’t know this man.
I don’tknowhim.
And he thinks he’s kissing Amber.
So I pull away, making myself smile in a relaxed manner. “Good night, William.” I roll over onto my opposite side and snuggle down under the covers again.
“Good night.”
I can feel his eyes on me in the dark for a minute. Then he rolls over too, his back toward me, and after a few minutes, his breathing slows and deepens into sleep.
It takes a long time before I can fall asleep too.
* * *
Something wakes me the next morning, but I’m not sure what it is.
I shift in bed, enjoying the feel of silk and Egyptian cotton against my skin. Then I stretch and manage to open my eyes, feeling leisurely and comfortable.
I suck in a sharp breath as I abruptly realize where I am, who I am, and who I’m with.
It’s just after six in the morning, and William is standing in front of the dresser in the bedroom, fastening the cuff links on his french-blue dress shirt. He must have already showered since he’s almost fully dressed in black trousers, shoes, and socks.
He glances over, sees I’m awake. “Morning.”
“Morning,” I mumble back, trying to wake up. It would be a big mistake to try to carry on a conversation with William without being fully in possession of my faculties. I sit up in bed since the change in position might help my mind to work more quickly.
He’s finished with his cuff links and is now working on his tie, but he’s staring at me with such obvious attention that I almost cringe.
“What?” I finally demand when he does nothing but stare. My red silk pajamas are generally flattering, although I don’t like how my nipples are poking out through the fabric and how one of the straps keeps slipping down over my shoulder. My hair is almost certainly messy, but I just woke up. Surely Amber doesn’t look perfect first thing every morning either.
