Page 30 of Blurred Lines

What was money without happiness?

When Matt Garza had built Canyon Hills, he’d kept the best plot for himself. Solitaire, a name Cris thought was better suited to a movie villain than a house, sat high on a bluff in the middle of a five-acre plot, with views of the beach and the ocean beyond. The gates opened automatically as they approached.

But Lauren’s look of horror wasn’t what he’d expected.

“What’s wrong?”

“I thought you were a normal guy,” she whispered. “Just a really, really hot one.”

“I am a normal guy.”

“You live in a freaking palace!”

Fuck. Maybe he should have taken her to the apartment.

“It’s only a house.”

“There’s a fountain in the driveway! The yard’s big enough for a pony! I bet you have a damn butler.”

“I don’t have a butler.”

She fanned herself, and when he put a hand on her thigh to reassure her, she just stared at it.

“Princess, I’m a nobody who ended up with a nice home because my absent father felt guilty on his deathbed. Don’t overthink this.”

“I can’t think at all. Everything that’s happened today… I feel as if I’m stuck in a tsunami, tumbling over and over and over. I’m sorry I slapped you—I should have told you that earlier, but I got distracted by your desk and your shower and your dick. And I’m sorry I wrote those stories about you. I mean, about Mr. Hotly, but obviously that’s the same thing.” She traced a finger over the scar that ran across his cheek. “How did you get this?”

“In a bar fight when I was a kid.” Cris took her hand in his. “I’m a marine, babe. The slap was nothing. And you can write as many stories as you want, but next time, how about you just send them to me instead of waiting for some jackass to share them with the entire world?”

At least she’d started breathing again.

“You really didn’t mind?”

“Did I mind finding out that what you wanted me to do matched up with what I wanted to do? No, I didn’t.” Cris parked the car outside the front door. “Unless you’re into car sex, let’s go inside. I’ll give you the tour tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? Why not tonight?”

“Because tonight, I’m gonna show you my bedroom. The rest of the house can wait.”

CHAPTER 12

LAUREN

The past month had been the craziest of my entire life. Three weeks ago, I’d been dating a regular guy, counting dollars and calories like a math geek, and dreaming of a dirty prince who’d sweep me off my feet.

Now I had the prince, who also happened to be filthy, loaded, and insanely protective. Plus I had a sore arm from pinching myself every twenty minutes, although I didn’t want to wake up. I never wanted to wake up.

“Where are we going today?” Cristian asked.

He was cooking breakfast.

Barefoot.

And shirtless.

Other than his annoying habit of taking my phone and checking my messages constantly, and the fact that he’d banned me from going to the grocery store alone when I had a craving for grapes late yesterday evening, he was pretty much perfect. Intense, but surprisingly easy to spend time with. And he cared. Two bunches of grapes—one red, one white—had been delivered an hour after he’d put his foot down about me buying them myself.

“I thought I might write at Café au LA this morning. With all the distractions of Christmas and New Year’s, I haven’t been there for three weeks, and I miss Macie’s coffee.”

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