Page 20 of He Has Charm

“Damn addendum.” I half-laugh. “The Brawlers’ townhouse it is. Like I said, I can handle anything for a few months. Time I proved it.”

“That’s the spirit.” Her voice drips with sarcasm and doubt. “But don’t worry, I’ll be right there suffering with you if it’s any consolation.”

“That’s the way to encourage a guy.” She looks up at me and I grin at her wary gaze.

“You’re right. We’ll make the best of it. We’re both on the same mission so it’ll be a lot easier if we’re….”

“Friends?”

“Civil. Professional.”

I nod. I thought she might be warming up, but no. She goes on about how she’s arranging for my furniture to be put in storage since the townhouse is furnished and how there are three bedrooms but one is set up as a nursery.

She clears her throat and says, “I’ll stay in the guest room and maybe use the nursery as my office, if that works.”

“Sounds like the perfect setup, like we’re playing house as the perfect working couple.” I give her a pointed smirk. “Except for the most important part of being a couple.”

“Sex isn’t the most important part of being a couple,” she blurts, and my grin pops in triumph.

“I never said I was talking about sex.” The delicious look of embarrassed realization on her face makes me want to kiss her silly. She ignores my comment, or tries to, even as her face pinks up. She looks straight ahead.

“I arranged to have your personal things and your car shipped from New Orleans and delivered to the townhouse. Everything will arrive in two days.”

“In the nick of time because I’m about to run out of clothes,” I say as the hotel comes into sight along with a cold harbor breeze. “What about you and your clothes?” I have a hard time keeping the innuendo from my voice, but she has no problem ignoring me.

“I had my things sent up to my friend Shelly’s place. She lives in the North End not far from Beacon Hill where the townhouse is. She’ll be dropping them off for me later today.” She turns and looks at me. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

I grin at the spark in her eyes and the slight resentment in her words and tone. I love setting her off and it shouldn’t be so enjoyable, but I can’t help myself. She shakes her head.

“You’re such a freak,” she says, huffing out a breath. “Why aren’t you frowning or swearing at me right now?”

“Why should I?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because I’m turning your world upside down and I’m moving in with you for the sole purpose of spying on you and keeping you locked up like a monk.”

“Guess I’m getting used to the idea and making the best of it.” I suppress my smile because I have no right to be looking forward to our situation even a little, and I’m way out of line toying with her. She heaves a big sigh.

“What about you?” I say. “It could be fun living in Boston for a while, right? Nice change from the Big Apple.”

“Could be. I’ll need to sublet my place in New York, but it should work out.” She beams a forced smile with too much fake energy in it, her green eyes not exactly meeting mine.

“Really? What’s up with subletting? It’s only for four months. Can you even manage a sublet for that short a time? By the time you get someone in—”

“You’re kidding, right? Our realtor is plugged in and she knows plenty of companies who need short-term rentals. I could make a good chunk of money—by my standards. In fact this could be a financial boon for me and I should be jumping for joy.” The change in her face to a genuine smile takes my breath away, but it’s short-lived. The way all her emotions show amazes me because she’s been so closed off for the most part. And there it is again, that wall of serious business closing off all that authentic passion.

“Cool.” I blow out a breath and watch the cloud form in front of my face. “Literally. It’s fucking cold.” Luckily the hotel is up ahead. She keeps her head down as we walk fast to the hotel’s front door in the stiff breeze. I follow her through the lobby and we ride up in the elevator standing on opposite sides of the small space, silent until the doors open and she rushes through them.

I have no problem catching up to her, and I slip my key card in the door to our suite before she can, letting us in. She walks past me. At the center of the room, she kicks off her party shoes and drops her bag onto the chair.

“Time to pack up so we can move first thing in the morning.”

“I’m taking a nap. Right after I eat,” I say. She nods and picks up the room’s phone.

“What do you want to eat?” she asks, pretending to be indifferent. She’d fool me into thinking I was about as human as an expensive car she had to take care of, except I see the nerves, hear the small vibration in her voice.

“One of everything. No—make that two.”

“I get the picture.” She struggles to maintain the straight line of her mouth and turns away to talk into the phone, presumably placing a room service order for lunch. Though I’d enjoy staying and pinning her with my gaze until I could make her flinch, that would be selfish. She’s not here for my amusement and I want us to… get along? Guess that’s the best I can hope for under the circumstances—meaning my forced four-month monkhood.