Sounds from down the hall, make me pace a bit to get a peek. “Nope.”
Mischief lights up his eyes. “I’ll just have to see at the next karaoke night. When is it?”
“It’s always the last Friday of the month, so in a couple of weeks. Next one will be extra fun because of Halloween, but like I said, I don’t sing anymore.”
“We’ll see.” He smiles, and heat spreads all the way from the tips of my ears to my toes.
He walks over to me, grabbing my empty whiskey glass, his fingertips lingering on mine. My head is swimming, my lips feel electric. “Refill?”
I look up into his warm eyes and then down at his full lips. He leans in. My face instinctively moves closer like a force beyond my control. It’s like he’s a magnet and I’m metal. He smells like cinnamon, cloves, and whiskey, plus a little something sweet. The scent is enchanting. Our lips are so close now, I can feel his breath.
The commotion from down the hall gets louder and louder until the library door swings open.
“Miles!” A gorgeous woman with long black hair, pale skin, and a figure that defies all laws of gravity buzzes into the room.
We jump apart like teenagers caught making out on a couch.
The tiny ball of energy comes over and kisses Miles on each cheek. I thought people only did that in the movies.
“Oh, thank goodness.” She grabs Miles’s glass and downs the swig of whiskey he had left. “Can you get me another? My flight was atrocious, and the car ride over here took forever. This castle is really far out here, huh?”
Miles and I are both stunned. The woman half-waves to me as she unzips her coat, revealing an even smaller figure than I thought she had at first. Well, her waist is tiny. Her bosom is not. “I’m so rude. I’m Ava Garreth.”
Of course she is. I’ve seen her in close to twenty movies, probably. My favorite is the one where she played a spunky model-turned-detective.
Miles fills another glass for Ava and brings it over.
“Thank you. I have lots of ideas about our relationship in the film.”
He comes to grab my glass, but I pull away.
“I should turn in.”
Miles’s face falls, or am I just reading into his expression?
“One more.”
Ava is kicking off her shoes and tucking her lithe legs under herself.
I shake my head. “Early morning.”
Miles nods. “The demon chickens won’t feed themselves.”
Ava laughs. “Chickens? This place is wild.”
I run up the stairs. I thought the “crew” wasn’t coming until tomorrow.
As I brush my teeth and get ready for bed, I tell myself over and over it’s better this way. I can’t indulge real feelings for Miles. It’s not like he’s even interested in me anyway. He’s charming for a living. It’s probably just a habit to be all smooth. Although he does look at me like I’m a freshly poured pint with just the right amount of foam at the top. But it doesn't matter. He’s going to leave at the end of the filming and go back to his glamorous life. He’ll forget all about me—well, he might think of me sometimes when he’s having a whiskey. He’ll say, “I had an Irish girl once.”
And I’m not even Irish. Honestly, I’m only half Scottish.
But I’ll be here with my heart shattered, pining for the handsome man who’s in America. Nope. Not again.
Especially not for Miles Casey. He’s much better suited to someone like Ava, anyway. Someone glossy and put together. Someone who doesn’t eat carbs.
I’ll save all the kissing for the page. The romance will stay in the romance novel.
But what damage would it really do? If we did kiss? Or possibly more? I’m a grown woman. I could have a harmless fling. As long as I keep my feelings out of it, and so does he, we could indulge a wee romance.
