“The penthouse? Why am I not surprised?” she says with a smirk as she takes in the view.
“It's the best. Here, let me give you a quick tour.” I retake her hand, liking the feel of her small one in mine as I pull her toward the kitchen area.
She takes in the high-top counters in glossy black with gray cabinets and sleek modern appliances that make up most of the kitchen, the neutral colors blending with the lighter grays and creams of the living room space. A large island, with chrome legged, black and gray checkered stools tucked beneath it, separates the kitchen area from the living room.
“Do you cook?” I ask curiously.
“I do okay. You?” she replies, trailing her finger over the glossy counter.
“I get by,” I answer gruffly, imagining that finger trailing over something else.
Pulling her with me, I take her through the living room to the hallway that leads to the other rooms.
“This is my workspace,” I tell her, swinging a door open to reveal a pretty standard office. A large dark mahogany desk takes up most of the space with two oxblood leather chairs facing it. The rest of the room is lined with bookcases filled with books, ranging from architecture to facts about primitive tribes and racing cars through the ages.
Closing the door behind me when she’s looked her fill, I open the one on the opposite side of the hall.
“Games room. It doesn’t get used as much as it used to, but if the guys and I ever do manage to sync up our calendars, it's here that you’ll usually find us.”
She steps inside and looks around, running her fingers over the back of the big soft brown leather sectional. There is a 50-inch television on the wall opposite it and to the left of that a full-size pool table. On the right are a few old-school arcade games and in the corner is a fully stocked wet bar.
“Well, this room screams bachelor pad,” she teases, walking over to the games.
“Well, now that I’m a married man, I guess we will have to call it the man cave.”
“Oh, you have Pac-Man,” she says excitedly, making me laugh this time.
“You play?”
“When I was a kid. I used to sneak out to this arcade place with my friend. I had the high score on Pac-Man for three years,” she brags.
“Is that right? Well, I’ll look forward to checking out your talents.” I wink.
She blushes and looks away, clearly not missing the double meaning.
“Come on.”
She follows behind me as I take her into the spare room. This room, like the sitting room and my bedroom next door, has the floor to ceiling windows bathing the cream walls in natural light and warmth.
Initially, I was going to let her have this as her bedroom. After seeing her paintings, I have another use for it and it's the perfect way to get her in my bed again.
“Oh. Wow,” she gasps, and I know she sees the room from an artist's point of view.
“I thought you could set up your easel over here.” I indicate the space by the windows. “There is plenty of space for cabinets and stuff for whatever art supplies you might need.”
She looks up at me with excitement on her face. “Really?”
I laugh at her exuberance. “Yes, really. It's all yours. Do what you want with it.”
“Holy crap,” she whispers.
“Come on.” When she doesn’t move, I tug her out the door with another laugh, ignoring her sigh of annoyance.
“And this is our room.” I emphasize the word our, watching with amusement when she freezes in the doorway with a panicked look on her face.
Twelve
Linda
“Our?” I squeak out. “I mean, I could put a bed in the other room with my art stuff—” I start, but he cuts me off with a shake of his head.
“No. You promised me a real marriage for the next three months. You're not backing out already, are you?”
Is he teasing me or testing me? I take a deep breath, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing me so flustered.
“No, it's fine,” I manage to say as there is a loud knock on the door.
“I’ll go. It will be your things from the car.” He turns and leaves me to take it all in.
The windows make the room light and airy, and in keeping with that, he’s painted the walls white and gone for soft, dove gray bed linens. In fact, the only elements of darkness in here are from the deep cherry wood furniture. A huge television is mounted on the wall at the foot of the bed and bedside tables flank the large wooden headboard. These match the dresser that bumps up against the walk-in closet, each one topped with a brass reading lamp.
The dark wood floor is covered with a large white fluffy rug that I’m sure will feel divine under my feet when I strip off these boots and socks later.
The bed itself sits perpendicular to the windows and is possibly the biggest bed I’ve ever seen. I could roll over three times before I met Asher in the middle and that gives me a small measure of comfort.
It seems ridiculous to be so nervous about sharing a bed with him when we’ve already slept together, but then I remember how forgettable the whole experience was for him, reminding myself I have the right to be nervous. There is something about Asher Sloan that unnerves me. Something that smashes through my defenses time and time again. My biggest fear is knowing that by the time three months have passed, I’ll likely be head over heels in love with the man only to find he might realize marriage isn’t for him and leave.
Being discarded so easily after our night together in Vegas hurt, but I know it will be nothing compared to him leaving me when our three months are over. But how do I give this marriage my all and guard my heart in the process?
“Here we go.”
I turn at the sound of Asher’s voice and take the tote bag he’s holding out for me.
“I’ll arrange to have all the rest of your stuff packed up and brought over tomorrow. Is there anything you don’t want to keep?”
“The apartment was already furnished when I rented it, so none of it’s mine. I only need my personal stuff and my artwork. I’ve already paid the rent for the next three months, so I don’t think the landlord will mind me breaking the lease early if I tell him to keep it all.”
“I can give you the money back for the rent, being as it was me who pushed you into moving here,” he offers, but I shake my head.
“No, it's fine.” I look around, feeling awkward once more.
“Here, I’ve cleared out one side of the closet and the dresser, but if you need more space, let me know.” He shows me inside the enormous walk-in closet.
I can’t help but laugh. “I think this will be fine, thanks.”
“Okay, well, the offer still stands. Why don’t you put your things away and I’ll make us something to eat? The bathroom is just through there if you need it.” He indicates a door I hadn’t noticed from the angle in which I’m standing.
I nod and start unpacking, ignoring my shaking hands, and give myself a mental pep talk.
I don't like feeling this unsure of myself, which is one of the reasons I was so apprehensive about doing this in the first place. But I agreed to this foolhardy plan so it's time to suck it up and make the best of it. Worst-case scenario, I end up with a bruised heart and a nice new apartment in a safer zip code. Best-case scenario, though… Well, that's what perhaps makes me the most nervous of all.