We settle on the bed, him leaning against the headboard and me reclining against him between his spread thighs. He holds an iPad in front of me and starts the video.
Music with a heavy drumbeat plays, and I see my face. Well, notmy entire face. I’m wearing my football helmet, and the camera is zoomed in on my left eye, which is closed. The top of my facemask is barely visible, and in the muted lighting, my eyeshadow looks breathtaking.
Words slide in from the left of the screen.
Just Strength.
With my onscreen eye still closed, more text appears, this time from the right of the screen.
Just Grit.
I hold my breath, mesmerized. Everything is so dramatic as the music increases in intensity. Then it stops suddenly, and my eyelid opens. My aqua-colored iris seems to glow as the final words appear from the bottom.
Just Jordie.
We’re both silent for a long moment, and then we exhale at the same time.
“Wow,” I breathe.
“Yeah,” Phoenix replies, sounding as stunned as me. “I came up with this idea, but it’s even better than I expected.”
He pressesplay, and we watch it again. It’s just as compelling the second time around. And the third.
Phoenix finally sets the tablet aside and turns me over so I’m facing him. “Are you happy with it?”
“More than happy,” I tell him, crossing my hands on his chest and resting my chin there. “You really are a marketing genius.”
His knuckles drift down my cheek. “Hiring you for this campaign was the best decision I’ve ever made.” He hauls me up his body until my lips hover over his. “Professionally and personally.”
Flicking off the lamp, he proceeds to get quite personal with me until the sun comes up.
And I fall just a little bit harder for Phoenix Hale.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
The imaginary watermelon debacle
Phoenix
We sleep in late on Saturday morning, and I decide waking up with Jordie is something I’m becoming addicted to.
After a brunch of omelets and mimosas, my phone rings. Frowning when I see who’s calling, I answer.
Less than ten minutes later, I hang up and massage my forehead.
“What’s wrong with Lorraine?” Jordie asks, obviously having overheard my end of the conversation. She sets down Honey, who she’d been cradling in her arms.
“She has to have a knee replacement. Apparently the doctor told her she needed to do it last year, but she put it off. Then it went weak on her a couple days ago and she fell, so the doc recommended she get it done soon.”
“Is she okay?”
“She’s fine now, but…”
Jordie catches on to my dilemma. “But that would put you without a nanny while she heals from surgery.”
“Yeah,” I sigh. “Mostly I’m worried about Lorraine. She’s going to need help because her daughter, who lives in England, is pregnant and can’t come. And her son isn’t really someone she can count on.”
“I’m sure she can get a home health nurse.”
