Page 9 of Resorting to Love
My snorted laugh loosens the knot in my chest. “You’re assuming again. I said there were a couple of choices, and that’s two.”
“I don’t take bad deals, and neither should you.”
I roll my eyes at the blasé advice. “If only things were that simple.”
“They can be. Let’s start small. You said yes to dinner. Where would you like to do that?”
“Okay…the dining room. Esme insisted I pack a nice dress for it. She’ll be pissed off if I don’t go at least once.”
“Then you’d better get changed.” Smiling and holding my hand, he turns me toward the cabin door. “You mentioned your sister a few times today. You’re obviously close. Are you a lot alike?”
“Yes and no,” I say as he closes the door once we’re inside. “Mostly yes, I guess. We’re both stubborn and independent, but Esme is more of a free spirit. She inherited our mom’s creativity and romanticism. I’m more of a practical realist.”
“Like your dad?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug while crossing the living room. “I was five when he died. I only have a handful of vague, fuzzy memories, and my mom only ever talked about him as if he were a romance hero. Which he was to her. They met here, fell in love, and until he had a massive heart attack and died during their flight to an anniversary trip, they were romance-movie happy.”
“Shit, Chloe. I’m sorry. That’s why you drove here, instead of flying?”
“Correct.” I give a tight nod. “Since I’ve got the bottle open, I might as well dump the rest and get it out of the way. Then we can avoid serious shit for the rest of the night. My mom’s gone too. She left me this trip in her will, but I’m only here because my boss realized I hadn’t taken a day off in two years, and my sister wouldn’t let me hear the end of it if I didn’t fulfill our mom’s last romantic-hearted wish for me. There. Bandage off. Guts spilled. End of Chloe’s sad story. Let’s move on to the fun.”
“I’m very sorry for your loss, sweetheart.” The depth of his sincerity is so big, so real, I can almost feel it across the room.
“Death is part of life. I see it every day,” I say, locking my emotions down.
He nods, his gaze searching my face. Trying to read me, no doubt.
Good luck with that. The book of Chloe is closed. I’ve already shared more chapters than I planned to.
“I’m also sorry I’m not doing a great job of turning this night around.” Nothing about his appearance has changed since he stepped onto my porch. He’s still dressed like aGQmodel, and hot enough to bePeople’ssexiest man alive.
That’s not what I see when I look at him, though. I don’t see a famous actor. I see a man who hasn’t pushed me for sex. Who likes me for me. A man who, after only one day, is tuned-in enough to realize something’s off, and actually gives a shit to ask about it.
Screw waiting for him to lean in. I cross the living room, wrap my arms behind his neck, and push up to my toes to get within kissing distance. “The fact that you care how you’re doing means you’re doing great.”
“I do care, Chloe.” He groans when I press my tits to his chest and tilt my hips forward against his bulging fly. “You’re not making it easy to show you that by being a gentleman.”
“We’re only here for a week. How about I give you maximum points for noble intentions now, and we skip ahead to the part where it’s hard for you to be a gentleman?”
His chuckle is warm and minty against my lips. “Oh, it’s alreadyhard. I feel like it’s been perpetually hard since the moment I met you.”
“I have the cure for that condition, and I’m ready to administer treatment right now…”
“How am I supposed to resist you?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. Hands cupping my face, he seals his mouth to mine, taking the lead in a dance of lips and tongues. Then he’s walking me backward toward the bedroom, breaking contact to peel the t-shirt over my head, before diving in to kiss me breathless some more.
“Do you kiss the same way when you’re acting on the show?” The question pops out of my mouth as quickly as it popped into my mind. I wince when he pulls back to meet my eyes. “Stupid question. Forget I asked.”
“It’s a natural question. And no, kissing isn’t the same on set. Everything’s choreographed before filming. Every placement of body parts, the angles, the duration of the kiss, down to the second, because every minute of airtime matters. The director might walk into the scene and make physical adjustments while you’re mid-kiss. And you’re surrounded by the crew. Sometimes there are cameras practically in your face.”
“Even during sex scenes?” I ask, and he nods. “That sounds horrible. Not romantic or sexy at all.”
“Give you a new appreciation for soap operas, does it?”
“Maybe,” I say, giving him a playful nudge. “Sorry I ruined the mood.”
“Nothing’s ruined.” He drops a softer, lighter kiss on my lips, then nods toward the bedroom door we didn’t quite reach. “Go put on your dress so I can take you to dinner.”
Shit. Ididruin the mood. “You’d rather go to dinner than have sex?”
