Page 85 of Wingwoman
He was fishing.
“You could say that.”
Pushing off the doorframe, Josh started his slow saunter toward me until we were toe to toe. He was so much taller than me when I wasn’t wearing heels, I had to crane my neck back to meet his eyes.
“Hang up,” he mouthed, his words barely even a whisper.
I shook my head slightly. Why did he want me to end the call so fast? Wasn’t this the point? To make Brent jealous?
He wrapped his hand around the small of my back, pulling me flush against him, the silk of the robe bunching between his fingers.
Instinctually, my free hand moved beneath his jacket to the broad mounds of his muscled chest, which hitched with a breath as soon as I touched him.
“C’mon babe,” he murmured, so close to me his lips brushed my ear. “We’re going to be late if you don’t get your sexy ass dressed soon.”
His breath skittered across my flesh and I shivered despite the heat.
Then he pulled away, stepping back with a sexy smirk and nodded to the phone in my hand.
The pieces fell into place.
No, more likecrashedinto place.
It was all an act. All for Brent to hear and get jealous of.
I swallowed the dry lump in my throat and hoarsely said, “I’ve got to go, Brent. Good chatting.”
“Hope, I—”
I hung up.
Before he could say anything else. Before he could confuse me more than I already was.
“Good girl,” Josh said with a wink on his way out. The bedroom door clicked shut behind him.
Yep. So fucking confused.
Twenty-Four
JOSH
“So there’sa photographer following usright now?” Hope asked, grabbing a piece of cornbread from the center basket and placing it on her plate.
“Yes,” I said. “I was pretty sure someone would catch a cute photo of us naturally out in the wild, but this way, we can ensure the leaked photos are flattering. Plus, it’s a win-win. The photographer is free as long as she sells a photo or two to a magazine.”
“She’s working for free?”
I pushed the butter dish toward Hope. “You can’t have that cornbread without some of their signature hot honey butter. It’s a crime.”
Smiling, she took a dollop of butter and spread it on her cornbread. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“If she doesn’t sell any of the images, then I will pay her for her time. But shewillsell them. Ever since that last image was published two days ago, my sources tell me the tabloids have been asking around about your identity.”
“So what’s to stop her from selling the unflattering photos too?”
I rolled my eyes and flashed her a look. Did she seriously believe I didn’t enter into this knowing every possible loophole? “Trust me. She signed an ironclad contract. If she sells an unflattering photo, we’ll take every penny she has.”
Hope shifted uncomfortably in her seat and leaned in, whispering, “What if the tabloids find out I’m a matchmaker? I can’t have that getting out. If people can recognize me, I won’t be able to do my job effectively after this all ends.”
