Sandcastle Beach (Matchmaker Bay #3) - Jenny Holiday Page 0,156

the first time since she’d met him, he sounded truly annoyed at her. But then he shook his head fondly and softened his voice. “I want you. Full stop. Whatever package of qualities come with you, that’s what I want.”

Wow. Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes.

“And for the record, it’s not too early to be talking about this.”

“We only just slept together for the first time. We’ve known each other two months.”

He shrugged like time was a minor detail not to be concerned with. Like it didn’t apply to them. And maybe it didn’t. The thought was buoying. No, it was exhilarating. “So this is it?” she asked.

“This is it.”

“I always kind of worried about the kid thing being a barrier,” she confessed.

“Do you want them?” Was it her imagination, or did he stiffen a little?

“I’ve always known it wasn’t going to happen for me, so it’s not really a question I’ve spent much time worrying about.”

He smiled—a big, wide, delighted smile that gradually turned hotter, more wicked. “Well then, Elise Maxwell, I’d say we’re ideally suited. Hiring you was the best goddamn decision I ever made in my life.”

All she could do was sigh happily. And also sort of frustratedly, because the way that smile had morphed before her eyes was making her achy again. Restless.

But then his phone buzzed. “Shit. I’m sorry, I should get that. It’s probably Patricia. She’s freaking out because I told her to cancel my morning appointments tomorrow so we could…” He waggled his eyebrows. “Sleep in.”

“Right.” She somehow doubted they were going to get any sleep, either tonight or in the morning. But a lazy morning holed up with Jay playing hooky was pretty much the best thing she could imagine.

“Ha!” He threw his head back and laughed, tickled by whatever he’d read on his phone. “It is Patricia.”

“So late on a Sunday night?”

“I do feel a little bad about that. I’m not acting like myself, and it’s throwing her for a loop.” He winced. “I’m afraid my not being there tomorrow morning is creating more work for her. I also had her cancel everything on Friday when the rugs suddenly arrived, so I could hightail it to your place. So basically we’re two for two on me bailing on work for booty calls, and she’s having to compensate.”

“But were they really booty calls?” she teased. “The first one was more of a Yahtzee call.”

He didn’t laugh, just stared at her for a long moment before saying, “No. They weren’t booty calls. They were everything calls.”

Everything. That was the thing about Jay. He could give her screaming orgasms, take care of her when she was hurting, admire her professional talents, and sink her battleships. He was everything. On the one hand, she should feel like they were moving too fast. But on the other hand, she didn’t feel that way. He was right somehow: by some alchemy she didn’t understand, it wasn’t too early to be talking seriously about the future.

“Well, poor Patricia.” Elise felt bad. But not bad enough to tell him to go to work tomorrow. She wanted her lazy morning.

“I’ll give her some time off to compensate.” Still looking at the phone, he barked a laugh.

“Everything okay?”

“She reports that the big rug in my office has a tear in it.”

“Oh.” That was funny, given all the sexually charged meaning they’d jokingly invested in the rugs. Still, it was brand new, and it hadn’t been cheap. “We’ll send it back.”

He whipped his gaze to hers, interrupting his typing. “No, we won’t.”

“It’s defective!” she argued. “You can’t just spend two grand on a rug that’s defective from the get-go.”

“I can do whatever I want. I’m the client. That rug has symbolic value, and it’s staying.”

She was flattered, but he wasn’t being reasonable. “Come on. You’re not the superstitious type.”

“Elise.” He set his phone aside. “Listen to me very carefully. The rug stays.” Something flared in his eyes. “I’m going to be buried with that goddamn rug. Just roll me up in it and heave me into the ground.”

All right, then. Elise fanned herself with her hands. She had a feeling that being cold wasn’t going to be a problem anymore.

“Now,” he said, pushing his phone farther away, so far that it clattered off the bed onto the ground, “let’s try the whole keep-your-hands-on-the-headboard thing again.”

Epilogue

Four months later

The text came in when Elise was out with her friends. She and Wendy and Jane had planned a night of drinks and dinner.