Page 81 of Turnabout Is Fair Cosplay
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because then I’d owe you a favor—”
“That’s how favors generally work. Turnabout is fair play.”
“Not with you. I know how your devious, legal mind works. You turned showing up with tacos into your brother becoming your realtor.”
“You can make me cookies.” I flash back to his lips on my finger…
“Nothing doing. It’s too hot to even turn on an oven.”
“At a time and place of our mutual understanding.” I roll my eyes. “Do you want me to write a contract?”
“Yes, but after I shower. I’m so unbearably hot.”
“You know where to find me.”
As soon as Mike disappears down the hall, I book it over to my cottage. Not to clean. I keep the place extremely tidy. I think it’s my way of coping with all the lack of control that preceded my move to La Jolla. No, I have to hide Mike’s volume of sonnets and the copy ofRichard IIII nicked the last time I was at his place.
I manage to slide them into the back of my nightstand and fluff the pillows before the knock on my French doors.
“Hi,” I say, pulling Mike inside.
He’s wearing nothing but shorts and carrying a towel and a folded pair of gym shorts and a T-shirt.
“It’s an igloo in here.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“How do your cactuses survive?” He adjusts a Christmas cactus that is blooming inexplicably out of season.
“They’ve acclimated.”
As much as I want to ogle Mike’s bare skin, it’s hardly fair. “Soap, shampoo, conditioner are all in there. Take as long as you need.”
When I hear the shower turn on and the shower curtain slide closed, all the air conditioning in the world won’t cool the heat that flushes my body.
Chapter 26
I don’t watch the time because I don’t want to know how long Mike takes to shower. I don’t want to become familiar with those details. I turn on my favorite season ofStarship Cruiserand read my Anne Perry novel, even though my eyes merely float across the words as I tell myself I’m fine. I am. I’m being neighborly. Mike’s a friend. Or a frenemy. Or a man who has populated every single one of my fantasies since I met him. I’m fine. I’m on the couch. Enjoying the AC that isn’t stopping. Not imagining how the weather is a metaphor for anything I think or feel for Mike.
Eventually, he’s sinking onto the sofa next to me. “I feel like a new man.”
“You certainly smell like a new man.” If I’m being honest, he looks like one too. He’s always been gorgeous in a wow-look-at-those-cheekbones-and-arresting-honey-eyes way, but now, with his damp, tousled dark hair, he is overtly handsome.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy to be indoors in September,” he says.
“Starship Cruiserwill do that.”
He laughs.
“So,” I say, “why is it the ‘biggest role’ of your life?”
He runs a hand through his damp hair. “It’s the most romantic role I’ve ever played. That’s kind of a big deal. I’ve gotten lucky playing villains, jokers, memorable supporting roles. But this romantic-leading-man-stuff is new. Scary. What I look like onstage matters now.”
“It always mattered.”
