Page 18 of Only for the Season
“I thought you were only visiting for the weekend.”
He smirks. “Paying attention to how long I’m staying?”
More like when he’s leaving.
“You haven’t seen the place yet. It won’t meet your billionaire standards.”
He rubs his hands together. “Let’s see this place then.”
I try to think of another reason why he won’t want the place but I’m all out. “Fine,” I mumble and grab the keys from a hook near the door. “Let’s go.”
“There’s a private entrance,” I explain as I go outside.
I unlock the door to the apartment and motion him forward but he doesn’t move. “After you.”
Awesome. He’s going to stare at my jiggly butt the whole time. I try to control how much it jiggles but give up and end up running up the stairs instead.
“This door has another lock on it,” I explain as I unlock the second door.
I step inside the loft. “This is it. It’s only one room, but you have everything you need. Kitchen, bathroom, living room, sleeping alcove.”
I stop speaking when I realize Jeremy isn’t listening. He’s wandering around the space, touching everything.
“Is there Wi-Fi?” he asks as he opens the bathroom door to inspect inside.
“Wi-Fi and you have all the streaming channels you could dream of on the television.” The booking agency I use to rent out the loft during the summer insisted on it. I tried explaining how no one who visits the island of Smuggler’s Hideaway watches television, but they wouldn’t listen.
“Good.” He exits the bathroom and stalks toward me. “I’ll take it.” He holds out his hand for the keys.
“I’ll need you to pay for the month in advance and I also require a five-hundred-dollar security deposit in case of any damage.”
“Will you accept a check?”
I chew on my bottom lip as I consider it. I don’t usually accept checks. But this is Eli’s friend and a billionaire. I should probably make an exception.
“Never mind,” he grumbles and I whip my head up to meet his gaze. Except his gaze isn’t on my eyes. It’s on my lip. And his light brown eyes have darkened with passion. With passion?
Get ahold of yourself, Parker Shaw. No billionaire is interested in a chubby baker living in a small town on a small island.
“Check’s fine,” I squeak.
He grins. “It’s okay. You don’t have to make an exception for me.” He whips out his phone. “I’ll transfer the money now.”
“You don’t even know how much it is yet.”
“It’ll be fine.”
Thanks for reminding me you have money to burn. The alarm on my phone goes off. Speaking of burning.
“My cookies!” I rush down the stairs toward the kitchen.
Jeremy chases after me. “Slow down! You’re going to break your neck.”
I ignore him as I reach the bottom of the stairs and fly out the door. My apron catches on the latch and I’m flung backwards. Straight into Jeremy’s arms.
“You need to be careful,” he growls.
My skin tingles where he touches me. I wonder how it would feel if he touched other areas of skin. Would it tingle, too? My breath catches as I imagine his fingers kneading my breasts. I moan.
