Page 47 of Playing for Keeps
“Nope. I like the quiet life.” I nudge her toward the elevator. “Now quit stalling. We’re going up.”
“You’re so bossy,” she huffs, but I catch the amusement in her voice.
“Duly noted,” I reply as I hit the call button.
The elevator dings and the doors slide open. I glance at her. “You ready?”
She lets out a sharp breath. “Ready.”
We step in, and I press the button for my floor. I can feel her tension rise immediately, and her body stiffens beside me.
“Hey, look at me,” I say. I wait until she lifts her gaze. “You’ve got this.”
She nods but closes her eyes tightly.
“Look at me, Ivy.”
The elevator begins to move, and I see the panic flicker across her face. Her breathing grows shallow. Even with both arms full, I let go of her hand and carefully guide her into my chest. Her heart races against me, quick and uneven. Mine’s pounding too, but for a completely different reason. I wrap my arm tighter around her and hold her there, wishing I could take this fear from her completely.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Ivy
It’s early Friday evening, and I’ve spent the afternoon photographing Wyatt’s apartment and prepping everything to get the listing ready. He’s been out for most of the afternoon, meeting with his publicist, which gave me the perfect opportunity to get everything organized. I even had time to browse a few potential listings in Hope Creek. There aren’t many that tick all his boxes, but there are a couple that show promise, and I’m excited for him to see them when he gets back.
I grab my overnight bag from where Wyatt left it in the entryway, along with the new dress I brought for tomorrow night, and head into the guest room. The bed’s been freshly made since I was here last weekend. He must have someone come in to take care of those things. I hang my dress in the walk-in closet and set my bag down beside it.
Wandering into the bathroom, I notice something I somehow missed earlier while taking listing photos; a bottle of bubble bath and a jar of bath salts resting on the vanity. A smile tugs at my lips.
“When did he get those?” I mutter to myself, recalling the comment I made last time about the distinct lack of bath products. I’m surprised, and a little touched, that he remembered.
I glance at the tub. If he’s still tied up with his publicist, I might just have enough time for a quick soak before he gets back. He didn’t say how long he’d be gone, only that they had a few last-minute things to go over before tomorrow night’s dinner. I figure I can always get out if he comes back, not that he’d mind.
I’ve been soaking in the tub for about thirty minutes when I hear Wyatt’s voice call out from the front of the apartment.
“Ivy? You here?”
“I’m in the tub!” I shout back.
I hear him laugh. “I brought food!”
“I’ll be right out!”
A few minutes later, I step into the kitchen, still warm from the bath. I’m in my sleep shorts and a tank, my damp hair braided loosely down my back. Wyatt’s at the breakfast bar, unpacking what smells like Chinese takeout.
“Hey, something smells amazing,” I say, coming up behind him and peeking over his shoulder.
He turns around with a grin on his face, until his eyes skim over me, and something changes. His smile softens, then falters just a touch, and I can’t quite read his expression.
“I hope you don’t mind me taking a bath,” I say with a small, nervous laugh, suddenly second-guessing myself. “Maybe I should’ve waited until you got back…”
He shakes his head. “Not at all. I want you to feel at home here.” Glancing away, he continues unpacking the food. “Did you notice the bath salts?” he asks, his tone a little quieter.
I smile and nudge his arm with my shoulder. “I did. When did you manage that? You haven’t been here since last weekend.”
He looks back at me with a grin. “I have my ways. Can’t have you thinking this place isn’t up to five-star standards.”
I laugh. “Oh, it’s definitely five-star.”
