Page 70 of The Paradise Problem

“My dad showed up,” he says then, quietly.

My stomach grows twisty and protective again. “Oh. And?”

A small shrug. “We had to keep it civil because we had gentlemen’s facials and massages scheduled.”

“Does that mean you had them together?”

West nods. “Charlie booked them for us. Charlie is the one person Dad would never say no to. But he mentioned every two minutes how weird it was to be in a room with his sons while he was getting massaged.”

I grimace. “Like he’s usually getting a different kind of massage?”

“I don’t really want to think about it too deeply. I’m not sure I’ll ever forget the sound of oil being slathered on my father’s chest.”

I cup his cheek. “Well, your skin is very soft.”

“It felt good.”

“It does feel good.”

Silence stretches again. My attention is dragged down to the tiny, glorious hickey, and I’m unable to stop stroking his freshly facialed cheek. West looks at my lips, and his fingers move to cup the back of my knee, just beneath where my robe has drifted open. Heat engulfs my skin.

“I was thinking earlier that we shouldn’t do this again,” he says, his thumb running in soothing circles just beneath my kneecap.

“You mean the way you’re casually fondling my knee?”

He nods, laughing quietly, his eyes still fixed on my mouth. But I notice he doesn’t stop stroking my leg.

“I’m finding it hard, however,” he says. I grin saucily and he closes his eyes, his head falling back with a quiet groan. “You know what I mean.”

“I do.”

“Someone could come in,” he says.

“Which wouldn’t be an entirely bad thing. The ruse, and whatnot.”

West frowns and seems to work through a few words before getting any out. “That’s one reason maybe we shouldn’t do this.”

“Isn’t that the point?”

“Kissing for show is one thing,” he says. “We—earlier—” He tries again. “It was more than kissing.”

“It sure was.” I wink dramatically and whisper, “Boner.”

He laughs. “It’s just that… I don’t want you to feel obligated.”

“What?” I gape at him, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “I don’t.”

“Okay.” His forehead relaxes. “That’s good.”

“I mean, I do, in the sense that I’m being paid to pretend to be your wife. But you were very clear that the physical side wasn’t part of that. And, West?”

“Yeah?”

“It isn’t a hardship, you know. Kissing you isn’t a chore.”

He nods, fingertips gliding seductively down my calf and back up again. “Yeah. But the money makes it—”

“Makes it complicated,” I finish for him. “I get it. But allow me to be completely honest: Now that I’ve spent some time with you? And now that I’ve seen your crazy family? I want to be here on your team.”

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