Page 37 of Tempted To Be Mine

Lucy wanted me to show up on time and not embarrass myself. That was it. That was the whole list.

I’d been honest with her too. About who I was. What I wanted. The parts of me that weren’t camera ready. She’d seen me at my worst. The woman had seen me hungover, dealt with my cranky and put up with the occasional tantrum. She never flinched. Never tried to change me or mold me into something more palatable.

She just accepted me.

That was pretty rare. Rarer than I’d realized until I had it. My family accepted me but they had to. I supposed I could argue that I paid Lucy to accept me. But I knew that wasn’t true. She could work with anyone, but she’d given up her roster to work for me and me alone.

I thought about all the places we’d been. The chaos of Milan Fashion Week, where she’d talked us out of a double-booked hotel situation by sheer force of personality. The shoot in Tokyo where she’d saved me from creating an international incident with my ignorance of Japanese traditions. The afternoon in Lisbon where a shoot wrapped early and we’d wandered around until dark.

She’d been present for all of it. Genuinely along for the ride, even when the ride was ridiculous. I sat with that for a second and thought about what it all meant.

My eyes drifted to the bag of chips sitting on the table in front of us. I’d given Lucy half my sandwich and now I was paying for it. But moving would mean disturbing her. I wasn’t willing to do that.

I liked the way she felt cuddled against my side. It was cozy. Intimate in a way we’d never experienced together. I liked that I could make her feel safe, considering how freaked out she’d been when we first arrived. If this was what she needed—someone to lean on, literally—then I could be that.

God knew I’d been leaning on her for years. The formidable Miss Lucy did have a weakness.

I stretched my foot out, trying to nudge the chip bag closer with my toe. The angle was wrong. I pushed harder, nearly sliding off the couch in the process, but the bag stayed stubbornly out of reach. After a few more fruitless attempts, I gave up.

Fine. No chips. I could survive.

I took a deep breath, settling back into the cushions. I inhaled again and that was when I caught it. Her scent. Something sweet. Vanilla. Like a sugar cookie. It was familiar. I’d been around her enough to know the shampoo she used and the lotion she put on her hands.

I’d noticed the smell before but tonight it felt different. Closer. Personal. Intimate. I tilted my head, so close her hair tickled my nose. I sniffed again and grinned. Sugar cookies for sure. Or Christmas.

Whatever it was, damn. That was addicting.

When she’d said she wasn’t going to eat dinner, I’d wanted to respect her wishes. She was a grown woman. She could make her own decisions. But the thought of her going to bed hungry, already frozen and exhausted, had nagged at me through the entire meal in the dining hall.

So I’d grabbed a tray. Sandwiches. Soup. The works.

My plan had been simple: make sure she ate, say goodnight, let her relax. Maybe head back to the lodge and see what kind of trouble I could get into. There was always something going on. Someone to talk to. A pretty crew member to flirt with.

But this was nice too.

I was also pretty tired. The shoot had been long. The cold had zapped my energy. Staying warm burned a lot of calories and models weren’t exactly known for pigging out. Bread and potatoes was not a super model diet. But damn, we all needed it. I watched one of the female models eat an entire bowl of potato soup.

My eyes drifted back to the chips. I had earned them. I didn’t binge on junk food often and now I had every right to bury my face in all that greasy goodness.

I wouldn’t do it, though. Wasn’t going to move and disturb her or wake her up with the crunching.

Instead, I reached for the blanket draped over the back of the couch. I moved in inches instead of just grabbing it. I managed to pull it down and over both of us, tucking it around her shoulders. She made a small sound, burrowing deeper into my side.

Something warm spread through me. Not the heat from the cabin. Something else entirely. The shared body heat, the smell of vanilla, and her slow breathing settled my very soul.

I closed my eyes. Just for a minute, I told myself. Just until she wakes up and I could help her to bed properly.

I woke to the sound of someone gasping and the sudden absence of warmth at my side. My eyes flew open.

Lucy was on her feet, staring down at me with an expression I couldn’t read. Confusion, maybe. Or alarm. Her hair was a mess, flattened on one side where it had been pressed against my shoulder all night. She looked like she was staring at a ghost.

We’d slept like that all night.

“What happened?” she demanded.

I blinked, still groggy. “What do you mean, what happened? We fell asleep.”

“On the couch. Together.”