Page 119 of Wicked Fantasies

“You’re very beautiful, Gwen. You shouldn’t hide that.”

“Are you drunk?”

“No.” He laughed before leaning closer, and she fought to catch her breath. “You sleep nude. I like that.”

She continued tugging at the covers until he gave in and stood. She pulled the sheet over her breasts, fighting to retain her anger. Ty had a way of getting under her skin in ways she couldn’t understand.

“Promise you won’t come in again without knocking.”

“No.” He claimed the chair by her bed. “I missed you.”

“What?”

“I missed you at dinner. I wanted to talk to you.”

He’d been out all afternoon and evening at some charity benefit. She’d eaten dinner alone. “Talk to me about what?”

He’d proceeded to tell her about his evening, and she hadn’t slept in the nude since that night.

Since then, Ty had gotten into the habit of coming into her room during the darkest hours of night and they’d fallen into a strange nighttime routine. He’d sit in the chair by her bed and they’d talk for hours before he’d retire back to the main house and his own room.

Gwen rolled over and punched the pillow, trying to find a comfortable sleep position and wondering what the hell she’d gotten herself into.

Moving into the guest house ofLookmagazine’s Hottest Man Alive was not one of the brightest things she’d ever done.

For one thing, Ty was filthy rich. He had a butler, two maids, a chef, a chauffeur, a personal assistant and at least a dozen other people in his entourage, doing God only knew what. The constant swirl of people surrounding him made her head spin, and she wondered how Ty could stand it.

She’d read the contract and given her verbal agreement to cowrite the movie script forEvening Songs. She was leaving the legal hassles up to the lawyers, agents, and her publisher to sort out.

She would be returning to New York tomorrow for two weeks so that she could tie up loose ends at home and pack up enough clothing for a two-month stay, which is how long Ty estimated it would take them to write the script given his busy schedule.

As an author, she had the luxury of uprooting herself from her New York apartment since she could do her writing anywhere. Have laptop, will travel.

She’d been in town eight restful, perfect days, hanging out by his pool, sightseeing, eating in fancy restaurants. He was an amazingly attentive host when his schedule permitted, though he hadn’t lied about the fact that his day-to-day routine was hectic, to say the least. Most nights she read or wrote in the charming guest house while he walked the red carpets and attended more meetings than the president.

Around one a.m., Ty slipped into her room. “How come you’re sleeping in pajamas?”

She grinned at his question, no longer alarmed by his sudden appearances in her room. “Gee, I wonder if it has anything to do with these late-night visits.”

“I think I should set the record straight and let you know that I most definitely wasnotoffended by your nudity. Quite the opposite actually.”

“My pajamas are staying on,” she answered. “I hope when it comes time to start writing our script, you will bear in mind that I’m a morning person. I can’t think at night. Every book I’ve written was put down on the pages between the hours of six a.m. and noon. After that, I’m cooked.”

Ty sat heavily in the padded armchair by her bed and leaned his head back. She could see the dark circles under his eyes even in the dim moonlight. “I’ll try to remember that, but I gotta warn you, my body’s clock is the complete opposite of yours. I don’t begin to fully function until early afternoon.”

“Must have something to do with these late hours you insist on keeping. How was your movie premiere?”

“Predictable,” he replied through a yawn.

“How was your starlet?” He’d taken Jasmine Court, the hottest female property in Hollywood, for a stroll on the red carpet tonight.

Gwen struggled to push back the nagging jealousy she’d felt when he’d told her who he was going out with. Regardless of her insistence that things remain platonic between them, her body seemed to constantly cry out for him. She wasn’t sure she’d ever felt so sexually attracted to a man before.

Of course, she consoled herself with the realization that every woman in America was lusting after him as well.

At least, in that regard, she was normal.

“She’s a lesbian,” he said quietly.

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