Page 5 of Into Her Fantasies

“I’m sorry.” He shook his head. “I’m not in my right mind.”

I reached up, rubbing his back. “Neither of us are, sparky. But I still love you.”

He pulled me into a fierce hug. “I love you too, most un-Stepford one I know.”

“Damn straight—which is why I’m going to get on that plane tomorrow, fly to the Mediterranean, and save your douchebag ass.”

“You mean our ass?”

I jerked back. Severed the air with my gasp. “Our—” I stammered, succumbing to the double-take. “So the partnership’s still on the table?”

“Honey bunches, you get Shiraz Cimarron to put ink on this deal, and I’ll have half the world waiting when you get back.”

I jogged my chin up like Scarlett O’Hara, donning the curtains to get her freaking plantation back. “Then consider this contract a win.”

The confidence overflowed. Ezra grabbed me up into a fresh hug. “There’s my girl.”

I beamed a brash grin. “She was never far, baby.”

He stepped away. Leaned against the counter with a relaxed pose but an all-business gaze. “So…you’ve done all the homework on Shiraz Cimarron?”

“You mean all the gossip web pages and photo collages you sent over?”

“Girlfriend, that part wasn’t studying.”

“Oh?”

“That part was fun.”

“Yeah?” I let the smirk turn skeptical. “This isn’t about having fun with the guy, bucky. I want his name on a contract and a deposit check, period.”

His arms dropped. So did all traces of his smile. “As long as we’re turning fun into the pariah here…”

Groan. “What now?”

He exhaled, now adding his big brotherly mode to the mix. Uh-oh. “Luce…you know to go carefully with this guy, right?”

“With who?” Incredulous—but nervous—laugh. “You mean pretty prince boy?”

“Pretty prince boy.” The echo came with his careful enunciation. I never liked that shit, especially when his regard was equally somber. “That’s really the angle you’re taking, Miss Fava?”

Miss Fava.

Shit just got real.

And the bigger shit in the room knew it—which explained why he stiffened like a slap was coming. I considered it but checked myself. Ez would love easing his guilt with a little effortless penance, clarifying why he dug in on treating me like a four-year-old. That was usually the direct line to my wrath, but no way was I rewarding Ezra’s exploitation of it by assuaging his guilt.

“Tell you what, Ez. Since you seem to be the new Cimarron expert on the block, why don’t you just take over from here?”

He huffed, again all serious big brother. “Did I say that?”

And yeah, my snort was all petulant little sister. Yuck. “Didn’t have to,” I retorted. “You implied—”

“Nothing.” His gaze softened while his jaw hardened. “Just some real concern, okay? As your boss and friend, I want to be sure you have your eyes wide open about Shiraz Cimarron.”

The weirdness in his face wasn’t my eventual undoing. It was the gentle vigilance in his voice, like where a real big brother would take things, that finally melted me. “Don’t worry, Ez. I’m a big girl, remember? And under the crown, or whatever the hell he wears on top of all that great hair, he is just a man.”

He yanked away with a grimace. “Dammit, Luce. That’s exactly what I’m talking about.”

---