When she still doesn’t move in her paralyzed state, I turn, wrapping Lena in my arms and pulling her in for a kiss until the other woman stumbles back.
Then the door slams in Nancy’s face.
I don’t stop when she’s gone.
Neither does Lena, attacking me but staying where we are. Almost like there’s this unspoken agreement binding us from moving to the sofa.
You can’t go there, no matter how fucking tempting. Here, there be dragons.
“She’s gone.” Lena’s soft mouth curls into a smile under mine.
“She’s smoldering ashes. That was you, hellcat.” I kiss her again, my arms locked around her waist, bending her body into mine. She doesn’t resist. “Do we always need an audience for this?”
“Thisis supposed to be fake.”
“Doesn’t mean we can’t have real moments.” I groan raggedly, taking her mouth again.
This wasn’t what I intended.
Hell, if anything it reminds me why kissing a beautiful woman like her is so recklessly dangerous. Still, I can’t bring myself to regret it, much less to stop.
“Nancy Loomer had that coming since the day she was born,” I mutter. “I’m just glad you were the one to dish it out. You’re tough as nails, Sass.”
“You aren’t pissed I didn’t save you the honor?” Her eyes dance as she leans back, holding my hands.
“Hell no. I enjoyed the show.” Reluctantly, I release her and step back. “I haven’t said this enough, but I’m glad I chose you for this adventure, Lena. Imagine having a partner in fakery without some teeth.”
She laughs until she’s red in the face, and I just stand there, gobsmacked.
It feels deceptively ordinary, having this girl slam my heart across the Milky Way.
At least there won’t be much trouble faking chemistry.
With Lena Joly, I only have a hundred other problems.
XI
Bad Dog
(Lena)
Dr. Ezzie’s office always looks so tidy in the morning. I think the first thing she does when she gets in is clean up the mess of papers left the evening before.
Throughout the day, it gets progressively messier. By closing time, her desk looks like the aftermath of a buffalo stampede.
Luckily, I’m here first thing. But judging by the shock on her face, she’s half a beat away from tossing the stacks of papers on the floor and letting them stay there.
Hello to you too, anxiety.
I didn’t think I’d be this tense, coming to her with a buyout offer when it should be a dream come true, but here we are.
My brain spins, horrified at what will happen if, after all this, she still refuses and goes with plan A.
Plan A means my gross ex gets his grubby paws on Pawsome Hearts and its days are numbered. He’ll have it leveled in a matter of months to make way for more soulless high-rises aimed at multimillionaires, and he’ll be laughing all the way to the bank.
Maniacally.
So maybe it’s the stress dunking me in pessimism today.
