Page 88 of The Re-Proposal

She wouldn’t offer me an eyeball and immediately give into my demands. She wouldn’t speak in such a soft, pained voice. And she wouldn’t agree so easily. She’s not even questioning the validity of this contract.

I set my hand on the door in case she closes it. The move is ridiculously forward, but I can’t help myself.

I don’t know what it is about Ris that drives me crazy. I honestly don’t. Normally, I’m a completely rational man who respects boundaries and doesn’t show up at a woman’s apartment demanding entrance.

But I can’t be rational with this woman.

Never could.

“I heard you weren’t feeling well,” I fish.

“Where did you hear that? I’m fine.”

Something clicks into place in my mind. She either lied to Island or she’s lying to me now.

“Open the door, Ris,” I growl.

“Go home, Cody.”

My jaw tightens.

Under normal circumstances I would respect the boundary, but I can’t afford to walk away tonight without assuring myself that she’s okay.

“Fine.” I turn away from her and type into my phone.

Her voice warbles. “Who are you calling?”

“Your mother.” I tilt my head. “She never really liked me, did she? Does she know we’re working together? I should probably say hi. Be respectful.”

“Don’t.” The plea is punctuated by a hard sigh. “Just… give me a minute to clean up.”

“I don’t care if your house is messy, Ris.”

“Well, I do.” The door slams shut again.

Clarissa takes a long time to come back to me, and I’m about to beat on the door again when I hear a metallic whisk. It’s the snap of the chain lock falling loose.

I pocket the phone and face her.

The door swings wide.

My smile disappears.

She’s wearing a silky pink pajama top and tiny matching shorts that tease every curve.

Her face is naturally stunning but, tonight, she’s wearing a ton of makeup and bright red lipstick. Her eyes are darker too, ringed with thick lashes that beckon me with every sweep.

“Come in,” she says, setting a hand on her hip and easing back.

I move into her apartment, my body painfully aware of hers as she closes the door behind me.

“Since when do you wear fancy pajamas to bed?” I ask tightly.

“What else am I supposed to wear to bed, Cody?” Annoyance flashes in her eyes, but that doesn’t stop my brain from skipping right into dangerous territory.

All I’m thinking about now is heroutof those pajamas.

What would her bare skin look like against my white Egyptian sheets—

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