Page 70 of Anyone But the Superstar

Leaving Mike to his revenge, I climb in next to Anne, spooning behind her.

A picture is worth a thousand words.

And if that’s true, it’s almost enough to keep me from sleep thinking about what I’d give to hear just a few of those words from Anne.

Almost.

18

LIZ

‘We really have to stop meeting like this.’

Sitting cross-legged on the foot of the bed, sketch book on my lap, I watch Felix wake up to the glorious sight of Mike Hunt inches from his face.

‘Meow.’ Mike’s wrinkled face retracts a few inches. ‘Meow.’ He sits on his haunches, like he’s disappointed in Felix’s reaction.

Felix stretches out on his back, eyes closed. ‘Just be glad I didn’t scream.’

Mike tilts his head as if processing what Felix said.

This is followed by a grumble/growl that honestly could’ve come from either of them. Though I’m guessing it was Felix’s stomach.

Wedidskip dinner last night, after all.

Eyes still closed, Felix reaches a hand toward Mike, and color me surprised when Mike closes the last remaining inch of distance by touching his nose to it and Felix doesn’t flinch.

I turn the page in my sketch book and attack the clean sheet.

‘Anne?’ Felix’s sleep-filled voice stills my pencil.

My middle name, familiar since I assumed it last year, hits me differently the morning after our night together.

It’s just a name.

Shucking off the guilt, I resume my sketch, wanting to capture the soft morning light bathing Felix – and Mike – in its glow. ‘Don’t move.’

‘You taking advantage of my body again?’ There’s a smile in his voice.

Not looking up from my quick line sketching, I smile back. ‘The cat’s out of the bag so to speak—’ Felix snorts ‘—so I thought I’d make the most of a live model.’

‘I hate to break it to you, but this live model isn’t going to be alive much longer if he doesn’t get something to eat.’ As if to prove his point, his stomach emits another loud growl.

Frowning at the thought of losing my model, I think of the box of Bisquick I saw in the pantry. ‘I could make pancakes.’

‘No.’ His answer is so violent, Mike takes offense and leaps off the bed.

‘Well, then.’ I feign hurt feelings. ‘See if I ever cook for you again.’

The war of emotions cascading over his face is so easy to read, I can’t contain my laughter. ‘Don’t worry, Ipromisenever to cook for you again. How’s that?’

Returning my smile, he pushes himself to a seated position and throws back the covers. ‘I’llmake pancakes.’

I hold out my pencil, measuring his proportions.

His body really is beautiful. Even without the blue, ruffled apron of my imagination.

Especiallywithout it.

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