Page 40 of The Billionaire's Second Chance
Ryan raised an eyebrow at me, and Flora–thetraitor–laughed.
“Sure you are,” she said.
“I am!” I protested. “I’m well-versed in romance.”
“One-night stands aren’t romance,” Ryan said.
“Says who?” Flora cooed, making eyes at her husband.Disgusting, the pair of them.
“Well, it doesn’t matter,” I said, and sat back in my chair, taking a swig from my bottle of beer. “Sam wouldn’t want that romance novel stuff anyway.”
I felt eyes on me. Blue ones. I looked over to see Flora staring directly at me, brows drawn together.
“What?” I asked. “I meant for the concept. I think it was–hold on, let me get this right–romantic, wounded,taciturn–youarea teacher, aren’t you, look at that vocab word–sexily brooding tech mogul bad boy.” Was I rambling? I was rambling. I should stop. Or at least change the subject. “Also,bad boy? I don’t know. Programmer bad boy…” I made a face. “Now,werewolf dukebad boy…”
“Oh, my god,” Ryan moaned. “Don’t start up with the werewolf dukes again.”
“I’m sorry!” Flora laughed, nudging him with her bare foot. “A werewolf duke is hot! Everyone agrees!”
“It’s true,” I agreed. “It’s a scientific fact.”
“They didn’t even brush their teeth back then,” Ryan said. “Then with the raw meat, I mean, it just doesn’t seem hygienic–”
“Don’tlisten to him, Charlie. Ryan loves Regencies,” Flora said. “Don’t you, Ryan?” She fluttered her eyelashes at him.
“I do,” he said, glaring playfully.
I didn’t want to know.
“It’s the bosoms,” I said, and they both laughed. Ryan held out his beer bottle to clink against mine.
“To bosoms,” he said.
“Suchmen, both of you,” Flora said, but she held up her wine glass in cheers as well. “Toromance,” she said primly, then grinned devilishly. “No wait, I take it back–tomanhoods.”
Our laughter rang through their back garden.
CHAPTER20
Charlie
“Can I see one of those?”I asked, leaning back against the headboard. Next to me, Samantha was wearing a hotel robe, her legs out in front of her, crossed at the ankles and her feet stuck under the duvet.
“Hmm?” she asked, taking a sip of wine. Her eyes were closed, her hair loosed from her usual low ponytail or bun. She looked beautiful.
“One of your manuscripts,” I said. “That’s what’s in your bag, isn’t it?”
“I don’t think so,” she said without opening her eyes.
“You don’t know what’s in your work bag? That seems unlikely.”
She opened her eyes just to narrow them at me. “Don’t be obtuse, Charlie. It’s not as charming as you think it is.”
I fought my grin, managing to hold it back just long enough that her eyes slid closed again. “Good thing I don’t care what you think,” I said, quoting her. She scoffed, her eyes still closed. I loved seeing her like this. Relaxed. Or at least, as relaxed as was possible for her, I thought.
“You don’t care what anybody thinks,” she said.
“Yes, well, I’mCharlie fucking Martin.” I leaned in closer to her. “That’s kind of my whole thing.”
