Page 7 of Rumor Has It

Well fuck, if that’s not new. I had started questioning if my libido was broken.

Like an idiot, I’ve kept the door to my suite propped with my shoe, listening for her on the landing. I stroll, nonchalant, toward her door when I hear it open and close.

We reconvene where we parted. Cassidy blushes seeing my bare chest. Her eyes fall to the floor. Not exactly where I want them. I’m honestly more interested in eating up her appreciation for my abs than eating. At least I’m man enough to admit to myself that I’m suffering from colossal horny jerk syndrome.

She looks as incredible ready for the day as having woken up in those candy cane pajamas. Her sweet scent is more potent. All I want to do is breathe her in.

Except, the doorbell rings.

“I’ll get it.” Cassidy bounds down the steps and across the foyer tile toward the massive front door.

“You’re on vacation,” I remind her, following along.

Look at the door, not at her ass.

Look at the door, not at her ass.

Look at the door,notat her ass.

Oof!Look at that ass.

Luckily, I look away before Cassidy catches me checking her out.

She spins, pointing a finger at me. “Uh-huh.How do you think the delivery person will react to you opening the front door looking like that?”

“The same as you did.” My lip twitches with my taunt.

“Ah,I see how it is.”

I don’t think she does. It’s Cassidy’s eyes I want on me, not anyone else’s.

“Here. Cash tip,” I say, pulling a wad of folded bills from my pocket and handing them over to her for the delivery driver.

I weave my way back through the hall toward the kitchen, making myself scarce. In the odd kitchen room, I snag my shirt from the dryer. Pulling it over my head and tucking it into my jeans, I cinch my belt around my waist. Then I check my reflection in the closest shiny surface to make sure my hair is still every bit as out of place as my stylist insists and that I’m presentable.

Chapter Three

CASSIDY

Have you ever dressed with the intent that you don’t look dressed?

I didn’t do that at all when I wore red because my mama says it makes the Cavanaugh green flecks in my brown eyes pop.

Nope, Christmas is coming. I’m in the holiday spirit.

It just so happens the jeans that match this shirt make my ass look fantastic. Total coincidence. I didn’t walk down the stairs in front of Isaiah Roomer intending to put on a show.

And a girl should always wear something underneath that makes her feel sexy, whether or not anyone sees her lacy bra.

The swipe of mascara? Well, I have blonde eyelashes, so that’s normal. I also received a tinted organic beeswax lip gloss in a gift bag from a cute little shop in North Carolina. It would be rude of me not to at least try it on.

I definitely didn’t do anything other than try to look presentable while Isaiah and I hang out together. Trying to attract his attention would be wrong. Aside from being a super-hot celebrity, he’s a widower—and a recent one at that. I can’t call myself a decent human if I didn’t have some respect for the dead, and his feelings.

The poor guy.

Making a pass at Isaiah would be out of line. Not to mention, I’m sure his flirtations are nothing more than kindness. He seems the sort of man who treats everyone the same by making them feel good about themselves and deflecting his fame.

Isaiah Roomer is not interested in a professional cook at an upscale bed-and-breakfast. Therefore, my outfit is spot on with what I’d wear bumming around the mansion with absolutely no one here to impress.

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