Page 62 of All Bets Are Off

I was so intent on my staring, that I almost came out of my skin when his eyes popped open and he focused on me.

I yelped because I hadn’t been expecting it, too lulled by the sight of his beauty. Rather than asking what I’d been doing, he grinned at me.

“Morning, Shorty.” His smile did funny things to my heart.

Then I registered the nickname. “I hate it when you call me that,” I muttered. I did my best to appear agitated—it wasn’t hard sometimes with him—but his smile was my undoing. “Why do you look so smug?”

“Oh, don’t kid yourself, Livvie.” His fingers moved to my cheek so he could brush his thumb over my flushing skin. “You look smug too.”

I wanted to argue with him—that couldn’t be true—but a smile lifted my lips, unbidden. “It wasn’tthatgood,” I said, mostly because I didn’t know what else to say.

His knowing look said otherwise. “Is that how you’re going to play it?”

“It was perfectly acceptable sex.” I decided to embrace this tack wholeheartedly, even though it was a vicious lie. “Total seven out of ten.”

“Seven, huh?” His grin grew even wider. “I guess I have something to work toward.” His arm snaked around my waist and before I realized what was happening, I was being gathered to his chest. “What will it take to get a ten?”

The fact that he was willing to work harder—didn’t he need food to refuel?—had my mind spinning in a million different directions. It wasn’t as easy to ignore reality in the bright light of day, though. “We need to talk.” I blurted it like the wet blanket I was.

Rather than argue, or try to kiss me into a different discussion, he nodded. “We do. I was thinking maybe we could do something else before we get to the serious stuff, though.”

I had to press my lips together to keep from grinning. “What sort of something else were you thinking about?”

“It will lose something in the telling. I’m going to have to show you.” He rolled me to my back and slid on top of me. “Let’s see if we can hit an eight, shall we?” His mouth covered mine before I could respond.

What the hell, I thought. An eight sounded good.

AN HOUR LATER AND WE’D MANAGED TOdrag ourselves out of bed. We didn’t bother with clothes, both donning robes instead, and we sat at the dining room table to peruse the room service Zach had ordered for us.

“Who needs four full breakfasts?” I demanded as I sent him a dumbfounded look.

He shrugged, seemingly unbothered. “I need to carb load if I’m going to keep up with you.”

I grinned, then remembered who we were and what we were supposed to be doing. “Are you going to keep up with me? Is that the plan?” My legs felt suddenly wooden as I landed in one of the chairs. “What exactly are we doing here?”

He looked as if he was expecting the question. “Well, I wouldn’t mind repeating last night again.” His devilish grin did weird things to my stomach. Teenage Olivia, the one with the braces and the stupid notebook doodles, was pumping her fistsomewhere in time right now. It was obvious he was interested in more than a roommate situation.

That didn’t mean we were compatible.

“Last night was great.” I opted for honesty. “It was … there are no words. My little nerdy teen self is giving me a standing ovation in my head.”

“I’m giving you a standing ovation in my head too.”

I smirked. I couldn’t help myself. “This isn’t supposed to be a real marriage,” I reminded him.

That was enough to have his smile slipping. “I know.” He took the top off a plate of pancakes. “What do you want, Olivia?”

The question threw me. What did I want? “I … don’t … know.” We were being vulnerable with one another, so I decided to be as honest as humanly possible. That was the only way we were going to get out of this mess. “I would be lying if I said I wasn’t attracted to you.”

“Same.” Zach bobbed his head as he reached for the syrup. “Eat while you’re breaking it down,” he prodded. “You have to be running on empty. I know I am.”

That was one of my problems. I was running on empty … physically. Emotionally, I’d never felt so overstuffed. I yanked the top off the nearest breakfast tray and found an omelet with hash browns and juice waiting for me. My stomach let loose a ruthless growl in thanks.

“What do you want?” I asked him.

He paused with the syrup container halfway over his pancakes. “I’m attracted too,” he admitted. “Like … really attracted. I’m so attracted that they need to come up with a different word because that doesn’t do what I’m feeling justice.”

I nodded, waiting for him to finish it out.

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