Page 26 of The Love Hoax
“Cute. How about this? We’ll toss the clothes you’re wearing into the wash and you’ll wear my Broncos jersey as a nightshirt.”
I’m not about to ask for his underwear. “Got any clean exercise shorts to go with the jersey?” I feel my cheeks heat up.
Adam grins. “I’ll even throw in a helmet. Okay?”
I can’t help but laugh. The entire situation is crazy.
Adam points out the laundry room, then opens the door to the guest room. “Make yourself at home.”
I walk past him into a spacious, modern room, decorated in soothing earth tones. It’s three times the size of my bedroom at home in New York. The far wall is actually an enormous pane of glass. “Wow.”
“Like it?”
“Love it.”
He stands there a moment, as if wanting to say more, and then steps out, closing the door softly behind him.
Twenty minutes later, I wipe the condensation off the mirror. Adam’s jersey clings to my curves, reaching the tops of my thighs. It’s far from an extra-large. Maybe it shrunk in the dryer. Hmm. Good thing I asked for his shorts.
Other than a tube of tinted lip balm, all my makeup is back at the hotel. I wish I cared. But I’m starving.
Okay, maybe I care a little bit. The more time I spend with Adam, the more fluttery my butterflies become.
I run my fingers through my hair, hoping the waves will dry nicely and do some ridiculous face exercises. As if trying to lick my nose with my tongue will tighten my skin before dinner is served.
Unfortunately, there’s little more I can do right now about myappearance. I swipe on the lip balm, leave the room, and toss my soiled clothes into the washer.
Back in the hallway, I turn right and am struck by an enormous oil painting of a bear in a stream, a salmon clenched in its mouth. The scene is so realistic that I stand there for a few moments studying the brushstrokes. Breathtaking.
Across from the painting is a door left slightly ajar. I catch a glimpse of an enormous bed, the linens distinctly masculine.
Adam’s room.
Realizing I’ve turned the wrong way out of my room, I make a U-turn and sniff the air. Smells like the eggs are ready.
Barefoot, I make my way into the kitchen, pausing in the doorway.
There’s Adam at the stove, his back to me. Only this time, all he’s wearing is a pair of gym shorts. The muscles on his back and shoulders remind me of the horse sculpture I admired earlier. All I want to do is touch them, feel his strength.
Instead, I say, “I could eat a horse.”
Adam turns to face me, taking in my appearance. His gaze is intense, fiery. If thoughts could physically manifest, the jersey clinging to my body would be scorched and tattered.
We stare at each other, neither one saying a word. An unseen force is pulling at me. Hard. It takes every last ounce of restraint to keep from running to him, falling into his powerful arms.
When he speaks, his voice is thick. “Come here, then. Let’s eat.”
It sounds more like a cunning dare from the wolf inLittle Red Riding Hoodthan an offer to try the slowly burning eggs.
I walk into the kitchen, fully unsure if I should accept the challenge.
Chapter Eighteen
Adam
Iturn back to the stove, trying hard to calm my intense reaction to Evie. Seeing her standing in the kitchen doorway wearing my shirt, her hair wet, her face glowing, stirs something deep inside me. Desire.
She’s a stranger, the voice in my head reminds me.
