Flirting With Forever by Gwyn Cready (new books to read TXT) 📕

“Happy news.” He watched Cam wait for the traffic to clear in order to cross again. “You may choose a different reason for not liking me. That one doesn’t apply.”

But he realized with a start Anastasia wasn’t listening anymore. She had fol owed his gaze and was watching Cam, too. He felt the heat rise above his col ar.

Anastasia wheeled back, mouth agape. “You’re in love with her.”

He didn’t answer, couldn’t. His throat had turned to dust.

“Pardon me.” He stood, eager to remove himself from her gaze. He ventured to the counter and signaled for another cup. When his breathing slowed, he turned back to Anastasia, who was fiddling in her purse. She snapped it closed and gave him a long look. He tried not to let his gaze wander to the orange shirt, stil waiting to cross on the far corner.

“You being in love with my sister,” Anastasia said when he returned. “That doesn’t work for me. Not at al . Jacket is supposed to be taking her to London, leaving me with the museum directorship. For a while there, I wasn’t sure, but Jacket’s a man, and, wel , let’s face it: his ethical system is not exactly sophisticated. Cheating he’s always been able to justify, but cheating with Cam’s sister? That’s a trickier proposition. There’s only one way to make that go down easier in that little pea-sized thing he cal s a conscience, and that’s by marrying her.”

and that’s by marrying her.”

Peter blanched. Anastasia’s machinations sickened him. “And what if I were to let Cam in on your little ruse?”

“Remember what I said about the male ethical system?

You may be the opposite of Jacket, but you’re stil easy to read. You’d cut out your tongue before you’d tel Cam Jacket was sleeping with me. But you’re missing my point.

You’re a diversion I can’t afford.”

The light turned, and Cam began across the road, this time more quickly. Peter wondered why. In an instant he has his answer. Jacket stood on the corner, holding a long camel coat. She slid into it and turned into his arms, almost the movement of two dancers. Then he clasped her shoulder, and they walked slowly toward the entrance to Cam’s building.

Peter said mournful y, “I don’t think you’re going to have to worry.”

39

Cam felt the light on her lids but she pushed herself back into the cocoon of blankets, and specifical y into the pair of warm arms that had led her through a slow, heated dream this last hour. She braided her fingers in the fur skimming that taut bel y and took in the musky scent laced with turpentine, stil tingling from the foggy after-fever of exertion.

Deeply, deeply she sunk into those arms, that chest, her leg like an insistent vine, drawing him closer. She could feel the press of that impervious weight and felt the fire rise again, like a wicked, unquenchable flame, between her thighs.

She brought her mouth to his ear. “Again,” she whispered. “I want you to—”

“Cam?”

Her eyes snapped open, and a sharp heat fil ed her cheeks. Jesus, why in God’s name was she dreaming of Peter?

Jacket had cracked her door and was looking in. With a groan, she sat up and rubbed her eyes, hoping what had just transpired was not obvious on her face. “What?”

“Cal for you, babe. You left your phone in the dining room. It’s Bal .”

She looked at the clock. Ten thirty! Holy crap! She’d been up until three typing. Somehow the story of Peter Lely just flew off her fingers. And last night had been the seduction scene. Poor Ursula, she thought. Swept off her feet by the sweet-talking artist. Little did she know his ego would eventual y muscle her out of his bed.

Not that the scene had had anything to do with Cam’s own state of wantonness, she told herself firmly as she scrambled to her feet, wrapping the sheet around her. It was only what came of prolonged deprivation and spicy tuna rol s after ten o’clock.

She could feel Jacket’s eyes upon her as she passed.

“I can see sleeping in agrees with you,” he said.

She grinned. Ever since he’d kissed her the day before, it was like a whole new Jacket had come to live with her.

“Are we stil on