“Marvelous.” He beams at me.
I get tingly in all the good places to be tingly. I am so gone for this man.
“Are you the dead body tonight?” I ask him.
“Alas, my security team would have my head if I fooled them into thinking I were dead, so I must remain alive and healthy.” He drops his hand from my waist and gestures for both of us to go ahead of him. “Do come in. We’re waiting for a few more guests before dinner can begin. I highly recommend becoming familiar with all that our resort has to offer. And, of course, your roles.”
“Is there a prize for best actor?” Daphne asks.
“Does your host have two teenage boys who wish to be rewarded for everything from waking up in the morning to not breathing on one another when it becomes annoying?”
I smile so hard I’m almost laughing. “So the kids are participating?”
“Bah. The children have all escaped to the basement to play billiards and table tennis and air hockey and video gameswhile gorging themselves on the entire supply of pizza from two different restaurants.”
“Good.”
“Indeed.”
I smile at him.
He keeps smiling at me.
Daphne pokes me. “C’mon, Bea. I smell appetizers. I don’t miss a lot about fancy parties, butthe food. The food better be good. Like, you have no idea where my expectations are.”
Simon and I break eye contact.
Or more, he breaks eye contact to look at Daphne, blinking once like he’s forgotten who she is and why she’s here.
“The food is marvelous. As is the company.” He snags Daphne’s envelope. “I just remembered this packet is incomplete. I shall join you shortly with corrections.”
“Do the corrections require your computer?” I ask.
He barks out a laugh. “No, it’s been hung up worse than usual today, so I borrowed Lana’s laptop to put the finishing touches on our murder.” He smiles at me once more and presses a kiss to my forehead. “I’ll join you again momentarily.”
Daph and I both watch as he strolls the other way down the hallway and turns into another room that, if I’m remembering the floor plans right from my days of spying on the house’s listing, should be his office. I haven’t made it much past the living room or kitchen when I’ve been inside here yet.
“Is he turning me into a ghost?” Daph whispers.
My heart does that thing where it feels like it’s hugging itself.
I know he wrote the script for the murder mystery himself.
He told me so.
Called itgrand funin a text, in fact. And also confessed that it was putting him behind on his deadline for his contractually obligated script, but said that the break was good for his creativity and revisions.
He ignored me when I told him again to get a faster computer.
“I think he might be,” I whisper back.
And it’s making me swoon just a little more.
This isnota rebound.
This is the best relationship I’ve ever had.
33
