Page 74 of Not Exactly a Small-Town Romance

Zachery. His touch. His earnest expression.

Give that man a Golden Globe.

This is how he does it. How he woos all those hopefuls Desdemona sends his way.

He’s good. Too good.

For a full five minutes, I can only sit on the end of the bed, my clothes in my lap. I can’t quite comprehend what just happened.

I was so glib about it, asking him for sex. It was supposed to be transactional, a favor, a test.

Not what I got.

A full-body reset. A mind erasure.

I’m shocked that the women he’s given this treatment to haven’t become stalkers. I’m tempted. Zachery Carter is a drug.

I already want more.

If I hadn’t left as abruptly as I did, I would have never pulled myself away.

The house is full of creaks and groans. It sounds like someone might be coming up the stairs. There are no footsteps, but one of the sounds keeps getting closer.

Surely we haven’t stayed at a haunted bed-and-breakfast.

I race to open my bag and put on my pajamas with the gray sweater over them.

Then I hear a gentletap tap tap.

The knock is light. It’s not on my door.

It’s on Zachery’s.

Why would someone come to his door?

There’s rustling. Thetingof his belt. He’s trying to dress.

Then the crunchy noises of the door sticking before popping open.

His quiet “Hey.”

“Did you want to come down?”

It’s Livia, the owner.

I press my ear to the door.

I can’t hear what Zach says, if anything.

Livia says, “Sounds good.”

What sounds good?

Is Zach going to go for two?

Was I an unexpected appetizer before the main course?

I don’t want to know.

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