I stand quickly before I do something stupid like climb into his lap and kiss him full on the mouth, which is exactly what every cell in my body is telling me to do right freaking now. “Why don’t I whip up a salad while the lasagna sets?”
“That would be lovely,” he says, staring at the laptop screen. Lifting his left hand, he taps out a few words and I can’t help but wonder what they are. But maybe it’s better I don’t know because as it is, I’m ready to give my left ovary for a vibrator and about five minutes alone.
Swinging open the oven door, I grab at the pan without remembering to put on oven mitts. “Shit!” I say, my hands snapping back before I register what an idiot I’ve been. I glance at the tips of my fingers and see that they’re okay.
“Are you all right?” Pierce asks, his voice much closer than I thought it would be.
I turn, feeling silly and holding up my hands. “Totally fine. I pulled my hands back in time.”
He takes my hands in his and inspects them while I stare at him, helplessly filled with a longing he created without really meaning to. Or did he? The feeling of his hands on mine have my bosoms heaving again.Dammit, bosoms.Is he staring at them? No, he’s looking at my hands. God, he’s handsome up close like this. Those eyelashes are seriously thicker than Justin Theroux’s. I can see why Jennifer Aniston wouldn’t have been able to resist.
And what is that cologne he’s wearing? I bet it’s called Sexy Sex Man Who Can Deliver the World’s Greatest Orgasms. Or something like that. I really need to unpack the rest of my things and find my personal massager.
His eyes meet mine and we both just stare at each other, speaking volumes without saying a word. I lift myself up onto my tiptoes, my brain screaming at me not to kiss him. He is a guest.A VIP guest.Do not kiss him, Emma! You don’t even know if he wants to kiss you.
He lowers his face toward me and I suddenly am pretty damn sure he wants to kiss me. Oh yes, let’s forget the food anddo this. I close my eyes, afraid to see him pull away. One of us should come to our senses but it isn’t going to be me because I’m desperate to feel his lips on my lips, his tongue against mine, to taste and touch and nuzzle together in our shared euphoria.
But he doesn’t get the chance because his mobile phone suddenly starts buzzing, saying “Zach Calling.” And the moment is officially over. Murdered by his best friend-slash-editor calling with an urgent update from his publisher.
And Zach has just officially become my least favourite person on the planet.
* * *
“This is delicious,” Pierce says, taking another bite of the pasta.
While he was on the phone, I set our dinner up on the table for two out on the screened-in veranda. The lighting is low out here, having been designed for just such a meal. The sounds of the waterfall in the distance and the frogs croaking fill the air while I pull apart a soft white roll and pop a piece into my mouth.
Luckily, we both seem to have come to our senses and the sexy haze we were under has lifted. Pierce tells me about his call with Zach and fills me in on what’s going on back in Valcourt. Things are erupting in the worst way possible for his career and the tension on his face is visible. While I listen, it suddenly becomes clear to me why he was so surly when he first arrived.
“Anyway, enough whining, right?” he says, pouring more wine in each of our glasses.
“Whining? You’ve had the weight of an entire cable TV network on your shoulders for years now. I can’t even imagine the pressure—all the crew members and cast relying solely on your imagination for their livelihoods, and the network having all that money tied up, not to mention your publishers hounding you at every turn.”
“And let’s not forget the outraged Crownies all over the globe.”
“Them, too,” I say, shaking my head. “The fact that you’re still upright is a wonder to me.”
“Thank you,” he says, with a small smile. “It’s not all bad though. I know it’s every writer’s dream to be in this exact scenario. Well, maybe not exactly, but the bit about the hit series.”
“I suppose, but I doubt they’d consider the cost of it,” I say. I look out at the inky jungle, then back at Pierce. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Certainly.”
“Why does this matter so much to you? You could just quit and let NBO finish the whole thing if you wanted. It’s not like you need the money, so why kill yourself and take all the abuse?”
He chuckles a little, then nods thoughtfully. “This will sound stupid, but I feel like I owe it to the characters. I know they’re not real, okay, so no need to have me committed or anything,” Pierce says with a wry smile. “It’s just that I created this world, and all these lives within it that are hanging in the balance. It may sound conceited, but I don’t think another writer would do them justice.”
“That doesn’t sound conceited at all. It sounds loyal.”
“Yes, I’m very loyal to my imaginary friends,” he says. “Maybe Iaminsane.”
I smile and shake my head. “No, you’re not. It’s the right thing to do—finishing it. And the fact that you could just drop it and spend the rest of your life on vacation makes it all the more commendable.”
“I don’t know about that, Emma. It’s not like I’m searching for the cure for cancer or something.”
“Maybe not, but you’ve created something incredible—something thatmillionsof people have fallen in love with and are gripped by.” I watch him for a moment, hoping for some sign that he’s pleased with himself, but only seeing that look of concern firmly in place. “Your parents must be very proud.”
“One would think,” he says, looking out into the night sky.
