Page 10 of Ten Rules for Faking It
“Good thing I came home so I could greet visitors. Want a drink?”
Around the wall was what he expected—a small, narrow, clean kitchen.
His jaw tensed. Visitors? “Your ex didn’t show, did he?”
She looked over her shoulder. “No.”
Thank God. He hoped she never had to look atSimonagain. “I’ll take a water, thanks.”
She grabbed a bottle from the fridge and passed it to him. He offered her the bag, opened the water, and took a long drink to ease the dryness of his throat.Excellent. More dead air.When he set his water down, his eyes landed on the multiple issues ofCosmopolitansitting on her counter. Biting his lip to hold back a smile, he reached for them.
A small noise escaped Everly’s mouth. She set the bag on the other counter and took the magazines from him, shoving them into a drawer. He tried to peek before she closed it and was pretty sure he saw more issues.A closetCosmojunkie. Didn’t see that coming.
Her cheeks were a subtle, but noticeable, shade of pink. He wanted to tease her, make that blush spread over her skin. Everly backed up, and Chris cleared his throat.
He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, ever, so he stuck to safer topics.
“Who came to visit?”
“My mom.” She closed her eyes and sighed.
Say something. She shouldn’t be embarrassed by wanting to know ten ways to please herself in bed. Damn. Do not think aboutCosmo.Say something. Break the silence. Now. What? I’m sorry you’d dated a loser. You deserve more, and I want to be the man to give it to you. Shit. No. Do not say that.
Everly opened her eyes. “My mom has it in her head thatCosmois some sort of Bible for all single women. She brings me several issues each time she visits.”
Chris chuckled, thinking it was nice to know something about her—something small and personal.
He shoved a hand through his hair. “It’s nice she wantsyou to be happy.”Way to go not sayingpleased. His heart rate amped up. “You going to look in the bag?”
“I’m not in the mood for dessert.”
Determined to get rid of the tension in the air, he crossed the kitchen, which really was just a matter of taking a few steps. “Do you have a fork, then? It’s chocolate-caramel pie from Dario’s, and I’m addicted.”
For a second, she said nothing, and then slowly, a smile lifted her lips, her eyes brightened, and she laughed. Pleasure filled his chest at the sound. She was always gorgeous, but when she laughed, she was adorable. Those expressive eyes brightened, and her cheeks rounded with happiness, her rigid stance relaxing.
She tilted her head to one side. “Shouldn’t you tell me to put it in the fridge for later?”
Making a face, Chris shook his head, opened the bag, and withdrew the take-out container. “No way. You don’t put food this good in the fridge for later. There are rules about these things.”
A strange expression he couldn’t decipher passed over her features. He almost asked if he’d said something wrong.
She held out her hand. “Then I changed my mind. I want it.”
His breath stumbled in his airway, and he made a noise somewhere between a gasp and a groan. Chris could write a freaking book on what he wanted. And couldn’t have.
“That seems fair. It is your birthday, and I did bring it for you.”
She took it from him, her hand reaching out cautiously as if he were dangerous.Ha. The only dangerous one is you, Everly Dean.She was the kind of woman who could distract a guy from a well-made plan.
“Thank you.”
“I’m sorry your birthday sucked.”
She shrugged, dug a spoon out, then popped the lid of the container. “Most of them do. Not always this bad. At least it’s almost over.”
No one should feel that way about their birthday. What happened to make her feel that way? He spent too much time thinking about Everly—whatherfavorite dessert was, why she’d become a producer, why she lived in San Verde when she could work anywhere, what it would feel like to kiss her, to see if she had more than just those few freckles dotting her nose or wake up in her bed.
She’s your employee. And not a short-term fling.
