I love the way she wants to protect my grandmother to the end.
“It doesn’t matter whose idea it was,” I say. “I got the best end of the deal—spending time with a beautiful woman who cooks and kisses like a devil. Winthrope committing is almost just the icing on the cake.”
She grins. “Awww, you probably tell all the girls that.”
“Only the ravishing ones who kiss like sin made flesh.” I brush my lips to hers for effect. But she doesn’t back away and a second later, we’re joined in another withering kiss.
When we break away, Paige molds her head to my chest. “You asked for a favor. Can I ask you to return one?”
“Anything.” My fingers crawl through her silky hair.
“Don’t make me learn anything else from a chain smoker in a hotel lounge. No more big secrets, okay?”
Fair enough.
“She only knows what she reads. I agree, though, we’ve made it this far and you’re entitled to anything I know. I wasn’t hiding the engagement, Paige. I just don’t like reliving it. I keep hoping I’ll forget.”
I stare down at the rock on her finger, bizarrely wishing she’d let me put it there without an expiration date.
A wild fantasy, obviously.
Also, the way things went up in smoke with Maria should’ve been a lesson. Brandt boys aren’t meant to marry.
I can’t bring Paige into this mess. Can’t let family dynamics I was cursed with destroy such a good heart, one more fragile than her biting sass lets on.
My grip around her tightens.
I have to make the most of the days we have left, and then give her back to the happy life she deserves.
Nothing else is sane.
“I need the key to your apartment,” I say.
“Huh? You made me swear not to leave your room. And why would you need a key to my place?”
“You’ll find out tomorrow night,” I tell her with a wink.
In the morning, I give Paige’s key to Reese so she can take something hostage.
I also leave her with a list of strict instructions.
We’re at the office for ten hours, working nonstop. Even faint whispers of the big Winthrope project were good for the firm’s clout. We’ve got a stampede of new clients beating down our door.
Once we’re finally home, I say, “Let’s go to the dining room.”
“Did you already order dinner? We weren’t here to accept the delivery.”
“Just go. No questions, brat,” I say softly.
A table against the wall holds a tower of Italian appetizers, a bottle of sweet red wine, and chocolate-dipped strawberries. The table seats ten people, so it’s perfect for this. Her tabletop kiln, sculpting wheel, and a bowl of clay are at one end, with two place settings and a candelabra at the other.
Paige’s mouth drops adorably. For a split second, I think she’s forgotten how to speak before she whirls around and flings her arms around me.
“Ward! You...you did all this for me?” She stands on her toes to kiss me and I kiss back with an equally furious joy.
“I did it for myself.”
She laughs. “Yourself? What?”
“Yeah, tonight’s the night. My fiancée’s teaching me to sculpt,” I tell her matter-of-factly.
“Ward,” she says the word like it’s scripted, and also like she’s not done. There’s more on her lips.
“What?”
She’s on her toes kissing me again, her leg curled around mine. I want her to enjoy the food and the clay, but the way my body reacts to her—thunder vibrates my blood.
Placing my hand under her thighs, I hoist her up, aligning us perfectly.
She wraps both legs around my waist.
I pull away from the kiss to take a breath, then our mouths crash together again like that spot where oceans meet, desperately trying to join.
My hand moves up her thigh, under her skirt, and up to her—bare?—bottom.
“Shit. You’re not wearing panties, you minx,” I say with a rasp that burns.
Her satisfied giggle ends the kiss early. She’s so red-faced I smile.
“Do I even want to know?” I ask, cocking my head.
“I keep hoping we’ll be alone one day and you’ll be—inappropriate. In the office, I mean, and I thought—”
I blink. “Inappropriate?”
“You know. Like on your desk. The janitor’s closet. Somewhere tiny and secret or in front of the whole city through the windows. It’s all the same.” She’s grinning sweetly and awkwardly.
I burst out laughing, amused and brutally turned on by her hot, tense expression.
“Hey, don’t laugh! Wardhole,” she mutters.
“I’m not, but there’s a certain code in the office,” I