Page 31 of The Playboy's Most Unexpected Baby

Olivia looked down — and burst out laughing. A drip of paint from her brush had landed in his blond hair, dyeing it cadet blue.

“Sorry,” she giggled. “It’ll wash out, don’t worry.”

“I should have worn a hat or something! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why didn’t I tell you that it was possible for paint to drip?” She raised her eyebrows, her giggles intensifying. “Are you serious, Charlie? Is that something you needed to be told?”

“Well, I don’t know! I didn’t think of it! I can’t believe you got paint in my hair!”

“Yeah, we’ll probably have to shave it all off. I hope your head isn’t shaped funny.”

“Don’t even joke about that! Do you know how long I spend doing my hair every morning?”

“Yes, I do, since I live with you,” she said. “You’re in the bathroom for two hours every morning. It doesn’t takemethat kind of time to get ready, and I actually have long hair.”

“Well if you don’t think paint in your hair is that big a deal…” He looked from his paint tray to her and back again.

“What are you going to do?” Olivia would have dodged out of the way of his attack, but she was up on the ladder and it was impossible to move quickly. Before she could fully process what was happening, he had dipped his flat palm in the paint tray, reached up, and grabbed her ponytail.

Olivia shrieked as the cold paint slapped against the back of her neck. “What are you,six years old?” She grabbed her paintbrush and flicked it at him, sending splatters of paint all over his face.

“Oh, now it’s on.” He picked up his paint roller and ran it up the entire back side of her body.

Olivia jumped down from the ladder, brush still in hand, and went on the offensive, painting stripe after stripe across the front of the shirt he was wearing. “You — are — ridiculous!”

He caught her in his arms and held her still, laughing. “Okay, okay,” he said. “Truce. Truce?”

The brush was sandwiched between them, pressing up against both of their bodies. Olivia could feel the cold of the paint against her chest, contrasting with the warmth of Charlie. She looked up at him, suddenly captivated by his blue eyes. Not the neutral, passive blue of the paint they had chosen, but a bright blue that seemed as if it might light up the room if they were to turn out the lights.

He was electrifying.

Her heart beat double-time in her chest, the exhilaration of the moment stopping it from sinking into the pit of her stomach. She knew that would come later. She would feel the full effect of this moment, of how dreadful it was to have been caught in his embrace like this. It would hit her like a hangover.

But right now, she was flying high.

“Truce,” she breathed.

She didn’t want him to let her go, and he didn’t. He held onto her for a moment longer, his eyes searching hers as if looking for the answer to a question.

Olivia wished he would just ask.

But he won’t. Because I’m not really seeing what I think I am. I’m still projecting. Still imagining things.

She couldn’t bear the thought of him pulling away from her, so she pulled away first, stepping out of his arms. She cleared her throat. “Truce,” she said again. “No more throwing paint around. We need to have enough for the walls, after all.”

“Right.” Charlie turned back to the walls. “We should probably get back to work.”

“We definitely should.”

They stood staring at one another for a moment longer. Olivia couldn’t help feeling that there was something unsaid between the two of them, something she was waiting for.

But nothing came. Charlie turned back to the paint tray and loaded up his roller, Olivia ascended the ladder to continue what she had been doing, and the two of them worked together in silence for the rest of the afternoon.

CHAPTER12

CHARLIE

“Here you go.” Charlie handed Olivia a glass of the red wine he had poured. “I’ve been saving this for a special occasion.”

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