Page 76 of Charming Deception

“I don’t care what you say, Miss Jaded. This is romantic!” Nicole continues pawing through the items in the suitcase. “There’s a lovely towel set in here! And dish towels. He thought of everything.”

“Or one of his assistants did.”

She makes a face. “Don’t try to devalue it just so you can keep pretending he’s not fabulous.”

“If you think he’s so fabulous… maybe you should get engaged to him,” I offer weakly.

Nicole drops the towels she’s feeling up. “Now there’s an interesting idea. Look me in the eye, Megan Hudson,” she demands, “and tell me you’d actually let me do that.”

I look away.

“HA! I knew it. You think he’s fabulous, too.”

I sigh.

There’s no way I’ll admit to her how right she is.

Chapter 18

Megan

“Hello.” My voice shakes slightly.

I stand in the middle of Jameson’s grand foyer, feeling small as I try to discreetly wipe my damp palms on my dress.

Jameson is walking toward me, backlit by the evening sun that pours through the open living room walls to his backyard. He’s come in from the back patio, after his big bodyguard with the neck tattoos and the iron jaw went to tell him that I’m here.

He’s tousling his wet hair with a towel, his sleek, muscled body damp. He wears nothing but a pair of light-blue swim trunks that match his striking eyes and cling to him wetly.

I’m not sure what to do with my eyes, which are desperately trying to fuck him.

“Megan.” His gaze slides from my face to my chest, to the backpack and two suitcases by my feet. One secured with red bungees, one with the Gucci logo all over it.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your evening. I should’ve called first.”

I’m not sure why I didn’t.

Maybe I was just too nervous, too uncomfortable with the idea of him knowing I was on my way over, and having time to prepare.

To prepare what?

Maybe I just wanted us to be on slightly more even ground.

But standing here, staring at him with his thin swim trunks glued to his obviously more-than-ample package, it hits me that there’s really nothing I can do to even the playing field with this man. Jameson Vance has the entire upper hand in pretty much everything, from his beauty to his wealth. He could show up wearing a garbage bag and I’d still feel intimidated.

“It’s okay. I’m glad you’re here.” He brushes the towel up and down his arms, then swipes it across his chest and down his abs as I try not to gawk. Jesus, though, the man is eye candy. “Do you mind if I have a quick shower? I feel underdressed.” His gaze wanders down my sundress again.

It’s the cutest one I own, a pale terra-cotta color that goes well with my eyes, with a fitted bodice and a ruffled skirt. The one I was wearing when I met him.

I realize belatedly that he’s complimented me.

“Oh. Of course. I’m so sorry. I really should’ve?—”

“It’s fine. Just wait here. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll have Clara get you a drink.”

“Uh, I really can’t go anywhere.” While we’ve been talking, his tattooed bodyguard whisked my bags away. Maybe he has standing orders to seize them on sight. “One of your ninjas kinda took my bags, so…”

It’s not like I can’t go get them; I know where my guest room is.

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