Already, his mind was settling her in, making her a permanent fixture in his home, in his life. She didn’t view it that way. “Temporary,” she’d called it.
They’d see about that. He had no intention of letting her move back into that tiny box of an apartment. Not when he had all this space here, just waiting for her to fill it.
4
This wouldn’t be a long stay. Maybe a week, max, until she got paid for all the gigs she was working. In fact, tonight, she’d start a search for available apartments. If she were lucky, she’d find a place that didn’t require a security deposit.
Yeah, right. And maybe her nonexistent fairy godmother would swoop in to save her.
Still, there was no point living out of suitcases. Tired as she was, Natasha unpacked her clothing into the empty drawers—or at least, the clothing she’d managed to salvage.
Over her years in LA, working in television, she’d amassed a considerable wardrobe of beautiful outfits. They were her pride and joy. Some people had kids or pets. Natasha hadstyle.When she went out, she dressed to the nines, looking like a fucking supermodel. Now, some of it was flat out ruined by the bathroom ceiling cave-in. Some was at the dry cleaners. The stuff she’d been able to salvage was mostly gym wear and casual attire that could survive being put through a hot dryer.
And her shoes . . . she couldn’t even think about them. If she did, she’d cry. Again.
Ignoring her reflection in the large oval mirror above the dresser, she tucked away the last of her garments. She didn’t need to see the dark circles under her eyes to know she was exhausted.
Maybe she’d look up apartments tomorrow. Sleep beckoned, although knowing Dimitri was down the hall would probably keep her up.
He’d acted so strangely during their “tour.” Although perhaps that wasn’t an accurate assessment. He always acted a little strange, except when they were dancing or screwing. His behavior alternated between sexual fiend and arrogant playboy, but today, he was more eager puppy.
It threw her off. Dimitri was difficult enough to handle—running cool and hot—when he was trying to get in her pants, but this happy host version of him was even more suspicious.
And still, here she was moving into his house, with no assurances, and no clear sense of where they stood.
A knock sounded on the bedroom door, and her shoulders hunched, fingers stilling on the neatly folded pile of gym clothes. If she went and opened the door, he’d be standing there, too close. If she were going to live here and stick to her rule, they needed to keep her distance. Taking a deep breath, she called out. “Yeah?”
The door muffled his deep voice. “Problem at the restaurant. I have to go out.” A pause. “Will you be okay?”
She nodded, even though he couldn’t see her. “Yes.”
“I’ll see you when I get home.”
Not if she could help it. What the hell was she doing here, playing house with him, acting like they could be roommates? Even the sound of his voice through a door gave her a thrill, his simple farewell affecting her like a promise.
Be strong. She cleared her throat. “See you.”
The house was big, but quiet. She put her ear to the bedroom door until she heard the door into the garage open and close, then she stepped into the hallway and out into the living room. A minute later, the sound of the engine faded as he drove away.
She let out a breath, and her shoulders slumped. Alone at last. In Dimitri’s house.
It was weird being in his house like this. She’d been here plenty of times before, but this time, she wasn’t drunk or horny. She was desperate in a totally different way.
The living room sofa mocked her, reminding her of all the times they’d fucked on it. She wandered past the dining table, noting the chair that had been repaired after they’d broken it. She still wasn’t sure how that had happened, but maybe it was a sign not to bang on top of tables.
She hurried back to the bedroom—Nik’s bedroom? Her bedroom? No,thebedroom. It wasn’t hers. But at least it held no memories. She collected an armful of toiletries and carried them out to the hall bathroom, arranging her bottles in a line on the counter.
The most intriguing room in the house was the dance studio, but even that now held a memory. When he’d pulled her into the dance, she’d gone, like every time before that. Dancing with him was irresistible, something she’d dreamed of long before they’d met, when she was just a teenager watching him on the movie screen. The rush of a rollercoaster, but with the security of knowing he wouldn’t let her fall.
And the damned man had known it. He always knew. Sometimes it seemed like he knew her body better than she did. When he’d pulled her against him, the thrill of the dance, her delight at the room, his warmth, his scent—all combined to set her body pulsing. It had taken all her strength of will to push him away.
No sex, she’d told him. And she was sticking to it. Even if it killed her.
Her phone buzzed with a text. It was a selfie from Gina. She had her arm hooked around Stone’s neck, and a beautiful landscape of water, mountains, and pine trees stretched out in the background. Gina added the caption,Look who’s hiking! #totesoutdoorsy
After winning the previous season, Gina had accepted a gig on Broadway, and Stone had gone with her. They were splitting their time between New York and Los Angeles for work, and spending breaks at their new home in Alaska.
Natasha smiled in spite of herself, but a pang of jealousy shimmered underneath the glee at hearing from her best friend and seeing her so happy. She smothered it, but a tiny voice inside whispered,I want that, too.
