Page 63 of The Fake Date Deal

I tucked my phone away, smoothed out my hair. Pulled out my compact and checked my lipstick. Then I knocked on his door, three rapid taps. My pulse rate picked up and I felt my cheeks flush, rising excitement tightening my chest. He still had that effect on me, even a year in.

“Marco?”

He flung the door open. I jumped into his arms. He caught me and spun me and kissed me all over, my forehead, my eyelids, my cheeks and my lips. I ran my fingers through his helmet-mussed hair. I needed to feel him solid and real, holding me like he’d never let go.

“I’m all sweaty,” he said, and pushed me away.

“I don’t care. I like sweat, as long as it’s yours.” I stole a five-o’clock-shadow kiss, all rough and scratchy. Marco chuckled into it as he kissed back.

“When’d you finish shooting?”

“Midnight last night. Then I couldn’t get out of the party till three. I got off the plane and ran straight to the track. Slipped the driver a fifty to get me in for the start. Congratulations, by the way. You were lightning out there.”

Marco pushed my hair back to examine my face. He rubbed the pads of his thumbs under my eyes.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking for eye bags.”

I slapped him off. “No bags. I packed light.” In truth, I’d been up nearly forty-eight hours. Forget bags — I had suitcases. Entire shipping crates. But I didn’t feel tired, not in the least. What I felt was feather-light, floaty, elated. I was here at the track with my speed-demon boyfriend, and in a few minutes, he’d sweep me off home. We’d make up for the eternity we’d just spent apart, five entire days while I shot a pilot.

“You look gorgeous,” said Marco, and kissed me again. “You know how you build people up in your head? How they’re never as amazing as you remember? Well, you’re the flipside of that. However perfect I think you are, you’re twice as good.”

“So are you. Three times.” I nuzzled at his jawline. Nibbled his ear. Pressed up against him to make him shiver with need. I’d missed him so bad next to me in the night, snuggled together like peas in a pod. When he held me, he was it for me. He was my whole world. Nothing mattered outside the circle of his arms. Tonight, I’d have that again, all through the night. Tomorrow, we’d wake up all happy and tangled.

“I should get changed,” he said. “Then we can go.”

I thought about letting go of him, and then I didn’t. Marco laughed, wriggled free, and guided me to the couch. He sat me down gently and kissed me one more time. “Five minutes, I swear. Then I’m all yours.”

I watched as he stripped off his tight driving gear, admiring the body I loved more than life. He’d kept up with his workouts while I was gone, and his tight muscles rippled under golden-bronze skin. His hair was all messed up from his tight collar, spun into a cowlick at the nape of his neck. I smiled at the sight of it, so unruly, so familiar.

“Let’s not go home,” I said. “Let’s get a room here.”

Marco let out a snort, half-trapped in his shirt. I reached out and ran a finger down his belly, making his abs jump and break out in gooseflesh.

“Let’s stay here tonight, and maybe tomorrow. Lock ourselves in our room till they have to throw us out.”

“We can’t,” said Marco, shrugging out of his shirt.

I pouted. “Why not?”

“Because I promised my uncle I’d stop by tomorrow. Tony’s picking his ma up at the airport, so Uncle Sal needs me to fill in at the shop.”

“What, at the bakery? Since when do you bake?”

“Tony’ll do that part before he heads off. All I need to do is stand at the counter.”

“But tomorrow, though? I just got back.”

Marco pulled his pants on, a quick, hopping dance. He knelt, took my hands, and kissed up my fingers. “We’ll have all night tonight. I thought we’d stay at the farmhouse. The roof’s all up now, and they’ve finished the windows.”

I grimaced. The farmhouse? That was hours off. Hours on the road before I could have him. I wasn’t sure I could take it, but I managed a smile. “The farmhouse it is, then. But you’d better drive fast.”

And Marco did drive fast, so fast my heart pounded. The city flew by us, then the countryside, and we raced the sunset into the hills. We pulled up at the farmhouse right around twilight, the sky mauve and purple, studded with stars. I hadn’t seen the place since Marco closed on it, and I caught my breath at how it had changed. He’d added a patio enclosed by flowerbeds, just dirt for now, but soon they’d be blooming. Where the roof beams had jutted like old, broken teeth, a red roof now rose, bright terracotta. He tapped on his phone and lights blinked on inside, a soft, mellow glow spilling out the new windows.

“What do you think?” He sounded almost nervous.

“It’s stunning,” I said. “Like a country estate.”

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