Chapter Eighteen
Two weeks later…
Jo glanced at the time as she filled the piping bag. Hair and makeup done, she had a half hour to finish Mrs. Rossi’s third order of cannolis and dress for the museum benefit.
If she could even fit into it.
Turned out, not only did Avery have a housekeeper, a friend of Mary’s who came once a week, but the stocked pantry was for a personal chef.
Both had scared the hell out of her the first Monday morning she was there.
Sydney came in to fill Avery’s fridge with the most exquisitely healthy, one-person meals.
He and Jo had hit it off at once, and he’d been excited to cook for more than one as well as teach her a few tricks.
Avery strolled into the kitchen. His hair was wet and uncombed, tumbling this way and that.
It’d dry that way, then he’d run his fingers through it and look like he just stepped out of a salon.
A towel hung low on his hips, invariably drawing her gaze to the sculpted six-pack.
No matter how many times she’d traced them with her tongue and fingers, they still demanded exploration. And awe.
Checking for drool, she adjusted the piping bag and went back to work. “You better get a move on.”
Coming in behind, he slipped his arms around her and nipped at her earlobe. The hard ridge of his dick pressed against her ass. “Wanna round the bases?”
She swatted the hand that tried to steal inside her robe. “I have to finish stuffing cannolis, then we have to go.”
A growl rumbled into her back as he squeezed her tighter and kissed her neck. “I’d like to stuff your cannoli.”
“Rules!” She wriggled to get free but not very hard. She loved the feel of his arms around her and the way he mouthed kisses across her neck and shoulders. “No sex on a fake date day.”
Determined, his hand made it inside the robe and cupped her breast. The other dragged the collar down and over her shoulder. His mouth closed over the sensitive skin at the crook of her neck. “We’ve broken them before.”
More than once, she’d been weak, but he was hard to resist when he turned on that seductive bad boy charm. Still…
She slapped a hand over his as it wandered lower, closing in on her panties. “Stop or we’ll be late.”
His index finger snuck under the elastic. “We’ve been late before, too.”
“Avery!” She laughed but squirmed in earnest this time. If he knew how wet she was, they’d never leave the condo.
“Fine,” he huffed playfully and let go of her to stick his finger into the sweetened ricotta filling. “But I already sent you the money, so technically you’re off duty.”
“That is not how it works, and you know it.”
With a dramatic sigh, he stole another finger of cream from the bowl and headed back the way he’d come. “Just remember, you’re mine at midnight, Cinderella.” At the opening to the hall, he paused. “In case you’ve forgotten since last night, here’s what has to fit.”
He flashed a sexy grin and whipped off the towel. Long and thick, his dick arrowed toward his bellybutton. Then he disappeared, his laughter echoing down the hall.
No need for the reminder. I know what I’ll be missing.
For all his teasing, he hated the new rule. He’d wanted full access to her body, day and night. She hated the damn rule, too, because it wasn’t doing what it was supposed to, and every time they broke it, she felt worse. Like a mistress rewarded for services rendered.
Her stomach still pitched every time the money hit her account, and over the last two weeks, it had hit a lot, topping off her balance at nearly a hundred thousand dollars. Just thinking about it now made her want to puke.
But he’d kept adding business meetings, a garden party on a random afternoon, and even one of Dane and Lincoln’s parties, which had a little too wild, so they’d bailed early.
Sometimes, she wondered if Avery wasn’t making up events as an excuse to give her more money, but if that was the case, it had backfired on him when she actually stuck to the rule.
The night she put it into effect, she’d finally admitted the money didn’t matter anymore and almost told him to forget their arrangement, that she’d be his fake girlfriend for free.
But then she realized he’d see right through her.
He’d figure out she’d fallen head over ass in love with him.
He’d feel cornered, like a wolf in a trap.
Temporary or not, he didn’t want a girlfriend, and he could find sex anywhere.
If there was no payment, there was no agreement. He’d be done with her.
Moisture burned her eyes, but she blinked them dry and put away the mixer she’d agreed to use but wouldn’t take home with her and headed to the bedroom. She paused at the door, took a deep breath, exhaled, and stepped inside.
Avery stood in front of the full-length mirror, fiddling with his tie.
He wore the Brioni tux tonight. Her favorite.
Funny that she’d learned the differences between it, the Tom Ford, and Armani.
The jacket framed his shoulders and tucked in to show off his slender hips.
Tonight, he seemed to stand taller, more sure of himself. Or maybe she just knew him better now.
“Turn around,” she said, brushing imaginary lint from his back, just to have an excuse to touch him. Not that he’d balk at her touch, but anything other than utilitarian would led to more touching, more kissing, and right now, she couldn’t deal with it.
Later. Later, she’d let him do whatever he wanted to her.
“I talked to Nick earlier.” He lifted his chin as her fingers worked the tie. “About the case.”
She’d heard him on the phone in his office. Just the low rumble, not the words. She liked the comfort of knowing he was close but not hovering, just being. She’d miss it—him. “What did he say?”
“Hardy says there’s something going on, but they won’t tell him anything. Nick’s trying to find out directly from Commissioner Harris.”
“Hmm.” She smoothed the perfect bow and started to step away, but he caught her hand.
“It’s been quiet the last couple of weeks, but that doesn’t mean whoever’s doing this to you isn’t still out there. Let’s not give them an opportunity to escalate.”
She nodded, and he loosened his hold but didn’t let go. She looked up at him. “I’ll be careful.”
Crossing to the bathroom and the small section of the counter she’d taken over, she touched up her lipstick and checked her hair.
Phone in hand, Avery poked his head in the door and met her gaze in the reflection of the mirror. “Maverick and Olivia will be there tonight.”
“I know. She texted earlier.” Jo hadn’t seen Olivia since her first date with Avery, which seemed like ages ago and yesterday at the same time.
He smiled and walked away, thumbing a text. He seemed happy tonight, almost excited.
Like a kid right before spring break, sensing freedom.
She shook her head. “Just stop.”
Avery appeared into the doorway again, wrestling with a cuff link. “Did you say something?”
“Just talking to myself.” She moved to help him, then stepped into the huge walk-in closet, her self-pitying thoughts following her.
If only she had the guts to say them out loud, but out of some unspoken agreement, they both tiptoed around the reality that tonight’s benefit marked their last date. He hadn’t said anything about her leaving, but he hadn’t asked her to stay either.
Even if he did, she wouldn’t. The apartment she’d been waiting for had opened up, and she’d signed the lease yesterday.
Move-in was set for a week from Monday. Her bags were packed and waiting in her car.
She didn’t have much. She wasn’t taking the clothes he’d purchased.
She’d stay with Brooke for the next few days—Aaron’s brother had finally moved out—then she’d be at the motel in Jeopardy for Georgia’s wedding.
Over the last two weeks, they’d settled into a temporary routine.
Jo had pounded the pavement for new clients and bakeries looking for outside sources and picked up a few more orders from Mrs. Rossi and her friends.
Avery went into the office for early morning meetings, worked late into the evening, and played golf with the Sigmas on Saturdays.
But every night, no matter how late he’d worked, they shared dinner and burned up the sheets until dawn.
Jo fingered the red dress she’d bought the day of the home-shopping invasion. It was a dress for temptation, and as she slipped it over her head, she let go of the what-ifs and might-have-beens and strode out of the closet, a seductive smile on her face.
Necklace dangling from one finger, she held up her hair and spun to reveal the backless design. “Help a girl out?”
With a low groan, he trailed his fingers up her spine, and as his lips resumed the trail they’d given up earlier along her neck, she made a deal with herself. If tonight was their last night, she’d leave Avery with one hell of a memory.
****
Red carpet. Spotlights. Black tie. Jo would never get used to this, and she could do without the paparazzi, but she had to admit, the rich sure knew how to throw a party.
They were late, so they’d missed all the accolades and applause.
Traffic had been a nightmare after dropping off Mrs. Rossi’s order, which took a while since the women of her Saturday night Bunco made a big deal out of them delivering baked goods in formal wear.
When Avery explained where they were headed, Mrs. Rossi wanted pictures.
Jo had balked, but Avery reminded her it was good publicity both for her business and for the benefit, so she couldn’t say no.
By the time they arrived at the museum, their pictures were all over social media and the gala was in full swing.
Some of the less exciting exhibit pieces had been cleared in each section to make room for the main attractions of casino night—roulette, blackjack, and craps.
Men wearing tuxes and women dripping in silk and diamonds crowded the gaming tables.