Chapter 7 Am I Drooling?
AM I DROOLING?
PAIGE
I woke up in an unfamiliar place, and with the scent of expensive linen.
For one moment, I didn’t remember where I was. Then it all came crashing back.
Jack cheated with a woman in our bed.
My chest tightened, but I forced myself to breathe through it. No more crying. Not today.
Morning light filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the guest room. I checked on Lily. She was still asleep in her carrier, surrounded by the fortress of pillows we had built last night. It was a miracle that she had actually slept through the night for once.
I should try to sleep more. But I couldn’t.
I was in Derek’s penthouse and I had agreed to a fake engagement. Also, I had to go back to my apartment to pack my things.
What have I done?
After cleaning up in the washroom, I walked out of the room, my feet making no sound on the hardwood floors. I had no destination in mind until I heard the rhythmic thudding coming from somewhere down the hall.
I followed the sound until I reached an open door downstairs. Through the gap, I could see into what was clearly a home gym. Sleek equipment, mirrors lining one wall, and—
Oh.
Oh wow.
Derek was attacking a heavy bag with a rigor that was almost violent. Each punch landed with a thud. His whole body coiled and released with controlled precision. But it wasn’t the display of force that made my breath catch.
It was the fact that he was shirtless. Completely shirtless.
Sweat gleamed on his wide shoulders, highlighting every shift and flex of muscle as he moved. His back was broad and sculpted, tapering down to narrow hips in low shorts. I could see the flex of his obliques with each twist, his golden skin that looked like it had been carved from marble.
Am I drooling? Hopefully not.
I should look away. He was my boss and my childhood friend. The man who was helping me out of the goodness of his heart, and there I was objectifying him like some kind of pervert while he worked out.
But I couldn’t make myself move.
My eyes traced the line of his spine, the way his body moved, and something low in my belly tightened.
Heat crept up my neck, and my mouth went dry as I watched a bead of sweat roll down between his shoulder blades, following the dip and curve of muscle until it disappeared beneath the waistband of his shorts.
Holy shit, Paige. Get a grip.
As if sensing my presence, Derek turned. His eyes found mine, and for one moment, we just stared at each other. His chest was heaving, his hair damp and disheveled, and there was an intensity in his blue eyes that made me feel naked.
“Paige,” he called out, my name from his mouth sounded rough and breathless. “I didn’t… I didn’t think you’d be up yet.”
He grabbed a towel from a nearby bench and swiped it across his face, then draped it around his neck.
It did absolutely nothing to make him less distracting.
If anything, the way he moved, completely unselfconscious about being half-naked in front of me, made it worse. He knew exactly what he was doing.
“I couldn’t sleep,” I said, my voice coming out higher than normal. I forced myself to meet his eyes instead of staring at his chest or at the defined lines of his abs and definitely not the vee shape of his hips that disappeared into his shorts.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
I knew he worked out, kept himself in shape, but—holy moly.
“You didn’t,” he said, walking towards me, and I had to actively resist the urge to step back. Not because I was afraid, but because his proximity made my pulse race. “How’s Lily?”
“Still asleep,” I said, wrapping my arms around myself, very aware that I was wearing his baggy clothes. They smelled like him. “I should probably… I mean, I don’t want to impose any longer than necessary. I was thinking maybe I could find a hotel or—”
“No,” Derek said, his word flat and leaving no room for argument. It sounded moew like a command.
I blinked at him. “What?”
“You’re not going to a hotel, Paige,” he said, closing the distance between us, and suddenly the room felt very small. He smelled like sweat and… male. “We talked about this last night. You and Lily are staying here.”
“Derek, I can’t. This is too much—”
“You have a one-year-old baby and nowhere else to go,” he said, his voice firm as his eyes pinned me on the spot. “You’re staying. End of discussion.”
“I don’t want to be your charity case.”
Hurt and frustration flashed in his eyes. “You’re not. You’re my friend, Paige. And you’re Lily’s mother. That little girl deserves stability, and so do you. Right now, this is the safest place for both of you. I’m not letting you leave, and if I have to tie you up, I will.”
The promising threat made my stomach twist with nerves, and the fight drained out of me as quickly as it had come. He was right. God, I hated that he was right, but he was. I had nowhere else to go with no plan and no safety net except the one Derek was offering.
“Okay,” I whispered, looking down at my bare feet. “Okay. Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me,” he said softly and when I looked up, there was warmth in his eyes. “You would’ve done the same for me.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak, and followed him toward the kitchen. The awkwardness between us felt heavier in the daylight as if we were both hyperaware of the line we crossed last night.
Derek moved around his kitchen with easy efficiency, pulling out a coffee maker that looked like it cost more than my car. “Coffee?”
“God, yes. Please.”
I watched as he prepared it. My heartbeat increased when he added two sugars and cream without asking. He remembered. In the years I worked for him, I had never once asked him to make my coffee since that was my job as his assistant. But he had noticed.
He had paid attention.
He slid the mug across the counter to me, and our fingers brushed. The contact sent electricity up my arm, and I pulled back too quickly, nearly sloshing coffee onto the granite.
“Careful,” Derek murmured, his eyes tracking my face like he was trying to read something.
I took a sip to avoid responding, and the coffee was perfect. Of course, it is.
“So,” Derek said, leaning against the counter across from me. He had thrown on a t-shirt at some point, which was both a relief and a disappointment. “I drafted a rough contract last night. Just some basic ground rules for this whole fake engagement thing.”
He pulled out his phone and handed it to me. I scanned the list, and a laugh bubbled up in my throat.
“You made a contract? For a fake relationship?”
“I’m a lawyer,” he said with a small smile. “It’s what I do. Read it.”
I looked down at the screen and scrolled through it, stopping at the rules of our fake-engagement:
1. Lily is the priority.
2. No kissing unless Jack is around.
3. Wearing rings is a must (after the engagement.)
4. Stay friends. Don’t catch feelings.
Okay. Woah.