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After I get this over with, I’ll be one step closer to going home and far away from that festering thorn in my side.
“Mm-hmm. And when were you planning on telling me about this?” Alice asks, casually exposing a photo of me and Marcus at Pearl Beach. “You think I don’t know that ass when I see it?”
The flowy blue number I’d been holding flops to my side as I hinge toward the screen. Sure enough, I was able to block his face almost entirely.
Ha!He should be thanking me. It’s almost too bad I can’t rub it in.
“That wasn’t a real kiss.” Immediately defensive, I toss the dress beside the other one on the bed with a softthud. “There was no way I was letting one of those paps get a better shot than me.”
“Incognito, Sinclair. And you’re damn lucky no one from the team recognized you.” Alice’s tone is chock-full of grit. “Get the story. Don’t blow your cover. Fly your ass back home.”
I roll the cotton edge of the peach-hued gown between my fingers as guilt hammers at my fragile ego. The last thing I want is to let Alice down or jeopardize my position with the magazine. “Understood.”
Backing off, she sighs. “I just want you to stay sharp, okay? Don’t do anything with this Ernesto guy that I wouldn’t do.”
The barest hint of a smile reaches my face. “You mean, don’t sleep with him in exchange for photos of celebrities?”
“Okay, on second thought, doexactlyas I would do.”
The heavy knocks coming from the front door have me frantically scrambling for my phone to end the call. But halfway there, my feet get tangled in a pile of discarded clothes.
“Shit!” I narrowly avoid busting out a front tooth before crashing into the nightstand.
Rolling to my back, I quickly pat myself down. No injuries, but I’ll probably have to replace the stained-glass lamp that now has a crack through the middle of its base.
In a huff, I crawl to the side of the bed and resort to a classic round ofeenie-meanie-miny-mountil my finger lands on the dress I’ll be stuffing myself into tonight.
Snatching the blue dress off the hanger, I puff my wild hair out of my face, and call downstairs, “Just a minute!”
“Don’t keep me waiting, slayer.”
My fingertips cut into the chiffon material as that smooth request slithers up my spine before kissing my ears. Spinning on my heel, I nearly vault myself over the barrier to glare at Marcus. “What the hell are you doing here?”
He embodies sex appeal with his hands resting in the pockets of worn work jeans, tipping a crooked smile up at me.
The nerve.
“Aw. Did you get all dressed up for me?”
Glancing down the line of his darkening gaze, I find my breasts damn near spilling out of my racy red bra.
I slap a hand across them with an exaggerated gasp.
“Don’t cover up on my account,” he drawls, but I’m already backpedaling for the dresser.
That cocky bastard.
Cramming the heel of my hand against my forehead, I heave several calming breaths and pretend Marcus wasn’t just staring at me as if he could devour me in one bite.
His resounding chuckle heats my cheeks as I grab a loose T-shirt and yank it over my head. Once I’m able to compose myself, I stomp down the stairs, rounding the last step, only to bump into a wall of obnoxious male energy.
“Pity.” He clucks his tongue. “I liked the first outfit better.”
The carnality shadowing his face has a vise grip on my stomach.
“They’re just tits.”
Marcus’s words turn deep and gravelly. “Should I deny having looked at them, then?”
