“Bummer.” He sighed. “You look hot, but not too hot.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“I believe so.” He sounded surprised. “At any rate, if he touches you, I’m flying up there and cutting off his hand.”

“We’re kind of dating, isn’t that the point?”

“No.” I could see his head shake. “Not the point. The point is to get to know someone without sticking your tongue down their throat.”

“That would suffocate me.”

“My point exactly.” He pointed at the phone. “Don’t let him suffocate you!”

The doorbell rang.

“Oops! That’s him, gotta go!”

“Let me know when you get home!”

“Okay! Night!’

“Night, love.”

I hesitated over the End button then pressed it. Every time he called me love my stomach flipped over like a pancake.

Grabbing my purse, I ran to the door and opened it.

Smith was leaning against the frame, his muscular body putting off so much heat I could feel him even though I wasn’t touching him.

“You look perfect.” He eyed me up and down. “Ready to roast?”

“Always.”

He offered his arm as we walked to the car. I looked back at the condo then at Jaymeson’s house. A figure stood silhouetted in the window. He still wore his baseball cap — must have just arrived home.

“You getting in the truck?” Smith asked.

“Oh sorry.” I lifted myself into the truck and buckled my seatbelt. By the time I looked back at Jaymeson’s house the figure was gone, and I was left to wonder if it was all my imagination. Why would he care? Why should he?

“I brought blankets,” Smith said as he started the truck. “Just in case it gets cold. That way we can cuddle under the stars.”

“Awesome.” My answer sounded forced.

“I, for one, am hoping for snow.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because then I can trap you under that damn blanket all night long.”

I shivered.

But not because my body was responding to him. Because my mind immediately went to Jaymeson and lying with him in bed.

“Me too.” I reached across the console and grabbed his hand. “Thanks for taking me out.”

“I’d take you anywhere,” Smith whispered.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Jaymeson

I’d nearly had a stroke when I saw her original outfit. What the hell was she thinking? She might as well have been naked; her boobs had practically begged to be touched.

Damn, I’d even wanted to reach through that freaking phone and caress every part of her tan skin.

I’d almost lost it.

But at least she asked my opinion, or that of Jamie Hudson. The American accent wasn’t hard to do — I’d been acting since I was three. But for some reason talking to her, using a different voice, hiding my identity… it felt wrong.

I knew I needed to tell her sooner rather than later.

Then again, when I left, she would probably hate me. I needed that line of communication with her.

It was like my drug.

For the next few hours I kept myself busy answering e-mails. It seemed Peter’s assistants had found some great contractors to work on the house. They could have everything done by the time Pris’s family returned from their trip.

I e-mailed every last one of them and offered them double to get it done faster.

They were going to be at the house at seven a.m.

Satisfied that I’d at least helped as much as I could, I went to grab a beer from the fridge and glanced at the clock.

Midnight? What the hell were they doing? That was a five-hour date! Unfortunately, my mind started conjuring up all the different things they could accomplish in five hours.

By the time my damn brain was finished, I had Pris pregnant and hooked on meth.

Shit.

I must have fallen asleep on the couch because later when I looked at the clock it was three a.m.

Like a complete idiot, I messaged her on Facebook.

Me: You back from your date yet?

Priscilla S: Yeah, I got back a while ago.

Me: A while?

Yes I wanted the exact time, because clearly I liked torturing myself with images of them together.

Priscilla S: One.

Me: Whoa, you had a bonfire that long?

Priscilla S: No, we stayed at the bonfire for about two hours then went back to his place.

Shaking with rage, I struggled to type a response.

Me: To do what? Make cookies?

Priscilla S: No, we watched a movie.

Me: And when you say watch you mean… had sex?

Holy crap! Why the hell was she hesitating? She either did or didn’t!

Priscilla S: You have an active imagination. No, no sex, just movie watching, and a bit of kissing.

I sighed and nearly collapsed out of my chair.

Me: Define a bit.

Priscilla S: Jamie! It’s late! I’m tired and starving. I was too upset to eat dinner.

Me: Why were you upset?

Priscilla S: I don’t want to talk about it.

Me: Jaymeson?

Priscilla S: He kissed me.

Me: Wait, I thought you were dating this other guy?

Priscilla S: It was an accident. Jaymeson seems to enjoy that. Accidently kissing me, accidently breaking my heart without realizing it, then accidently pushing me into the arms of available men, it’s his thing.

I scratched my chin and frowned at the screen. Well, when she put it that way I sounded like an ass**le.