Page 92 of Make-Believe Match

I lifted my hand, twirling her under one arm. Then I picked her up by the waist and swung her around while she shrieked happily. By then the signal had changed, so I set her down again. “Come on.”

“Piggyback ride?” she pleaded.

Nodding, I presented my back and hunched down. “Hop on.”

We crossed the street, walked the remaining two blocks to her house, and delivered a soaked Sara to her babysitter.

“Sorry. She’s kind of a mess,” Lexi said as the little girl slid off my back.

“That’s okay.” The teenaged sitter smiled. “I’ll get her dried off. Ready to come in, Sara?”

“No!” Sara turned to me and threw her arms around my waist. Then she tipped her head back and looked up at me with sad eyes. “I don’t want you to go.”

“I pinky-promised to visit, remember?” I tapped her nose. “And I’d never break a pinky promise.”

“Can I come visit you too?”

“Yes!” Lexi rubbed Sara’s back. “You can come skiing with me!”

“Okay.” She gave me a big squeeze, then gave Lexi a hug too. “Bye.”

“Bye, honey.” Lexi and I waved and hurried toward my car, which was parked farther down the street.

Lexi shivered the entire drive back to my building. When I reached for her hand as we walked through the parking garage, it felt icy cold in mine. “You’re freezing,” I said, pulling her close to me in the elevator. I wrapped my arms around her. “How can a little Boston drizzle chill a girl who loves Michigan winters to the bone?”

“I don’t know,” she said, folding her arms against her chest, her hands beneath her chin. Her body shuddered in my embrace. “Maybe it’s stress release or something.”

The door opened onto my floor. I kept my arm around her shoulders as we moved down the hall. “I’ve got an idea. Why don’t you go take a hot shower? Loosen up all this tension. Let go of all the worry you felt going into today, because you don’t need it anymore.”

“Okay.”

“And when you get out, I will do my best to keep you warm and stress-free with other activities.”

She laughed. “Sounds good.”

While she was in the bathroom, I poured myself a couple fingers of bourbon and checked my voicemail. I’d missed a call from Rian Richman.

“Hey Devlin. Rian Richman here. Sorry for the delay in getting you those interview dates. Things have been hectic this fall. We’ve had some shakeups in account management. Wondering if you might be able to make it out here week after next. Give me a call.”

I called him back, and his voicemail picked up.

“Hey Rian. Good to hear from you. No concerns on the delay, I’ve been busy with that property in Michigan. I can probably come out to Santa Monica next week, but I need to talk to my wife first. I’ll let you know as soon as I can. Thanks.”

I ended the call and took a sip of bourbon. It surprised me a little how easily that phrase rolled off my tongue—my wife. It hadn’t even felt like a joke just now.

Which didn’t bother me that much. What the fuck?

Heading into my bedroom, I set my glass on the nightstand and lit some candles. In the bathroom, I heard the shower running and imagined her in there, naked and wet.

My dick immediately tried to grab the wheel and get me to join her, but I shoved that urge aside. She deserved some space, some time to herself, before I claimed her again.

My wife.

That possessive instinct was kicking in hard. Heating my blood. Tightening my muscles. Accelerating my pulse. Quickening my breath.

My tie rack caught my eye.

And gave me an idea.