chauffer and be a general Alma guide. He might have his own life to live. Or he might realize the thrill had worn off.
“I want to help,” he insisted. “My assumption is that we’re still planning to lie low, even after you clear things up with your father. So that means we need a place to go. I like it here.”
She let out the breath caught in her lungs. She shouldn’t read into his response. But for some reason, it made her feel a little better that he wasn’t already planning to ditch their relationship once it wasn’t secret any longer. “I do, too.”
She’d started thinking she might like to live in the farmhouse permanently. It wasn’t too far from Del Sol, so she could visit Tía Isabella occasionally. If she planned to stay in Alma, she had to live somewhere. Why not here? No one else cared about it.
As she lay in the bed James had ordered and smiled at him in the early morning light, it occurred to her that he was the only reason she’d even thought about a permanent place to live. As if James and forever were intertwined.
That was enough to propel her from the bed with a quickly tossed-off excuse about taking a shower now that she could.
As the water heated up, she berated herself for dreaming about life beyond the next few days. It was one thing to question whether James would lose interest once they could go public with their affair, but it was another entirely to assign him a permanent place in her life without even consulting him.
What would his place be? Boyfriend? Official lover? She’d be living in the public eye far more in Alma than in Miami. What if James didn’t want that kind of scrutiny? She wouldn’t blame him, especially given the past scandals that dogged his steps.
Of course, she didn’t know his thoughts one way or another. Maybe he’d be done with their affair in a few days, regardless of the status of their relationship. Maybe the whole concept of being her long-term lover had little appeal.
What was she thinking?
What had happened to the girl who used to flit from one guy to the next with ease? Or for that matter, the girl who flitted from party to party? Living out here in the country would make it really difficult to stay in the scene. No jetting off to Monte Carlo or Barcelona for some fun on the Mediterranean when Alma grew too dull. But when she exited the bathroom and saw the beautiful, surprisingly romantic man still in the bed they’d shared last night, sprawled out under the covers like a wicked fantasy, all of that drained from her mind. What party—what other man, for that matter—could compare to that?
“Give me a few minutes and we’ll get started,” he promised. “Let’s check out the upstairs today.”
God, she was in a lot of trouble. She should be the one thinking about cooling things off, not worrying about whether James planned to.
But the thought of ending things with James made her nauseous.
What was she going to do?
The upstairs master suite had the most amazing four-poster bed Bella had ever seen. When she drew off the drop cloths covering it, she almost gasped at the intricate carvings in the wood. Delicate flowers in full bloom twined up the posts and exploded into bunches at the top corners.
Once she polished the wood to gleaming and whacked the dust from the counterpane and pillows, the bed took on an almost magical quality, as if it had been a gift from the fairy realm to this one.
The rest of the room was a wreck. Mice had gotten into the cushions of the chairs by the huge bay window and Bella could tell by the discoloration of the walls that some type of artwork had originally hung there, but had disappeared at some point over the years.
The floor groaned behind her and she turned to see James bouncing lightly on a spot near the bed. The planks bowed under his weight and then with a snap, one cracked in two. Both pieces fell into the newly created hole. It was a testament to James’s superior balance and athletic reflexes that the broken plank hadn’t thrown him to the floor.
“Oops,” he said sheepishly as he leaped clear. “I was not expecting that to happen. Sorry.”
She waved it off. “If that’s the worst damage we do today, I’ll consider that a plus. Why, exactly, were you jumping up and down on it in the first place?”
“When I walked over it, this section felt different, like it wasn’t solid underneath. It turns out it wasn’t.”
Grinning at his perplexed expression, she joined him to peer into the hole. It was a shallow compartment, deliberately built into the floor. “Looks like you found the royal hiding place. Oooh, maybe there are still some priceless jewels in there.”
Eagerly, she knelt and pulled the broken board from the hole. “Hand me your phone.”
James placed it in her outstretched hand and when she aimed it into the gap, the lighted screen revealed a small box. Leaning forward slightly on her knees, she stuck her hand down into the space and only as her fingers closed over the box did she think about the possibility of spiders. Ick. Since it was too late, she yanked the box out and set it on the floor next to James.
“Anything else?” he asked, his body hot against her back as he peered over her shoulder, lips grazing her ear.
It shouldn’t have been such a turn-on, but then, there was nothing about James that didn’t turn her on. Warmth bloomed in her midsection and as she arched her back to increase the contact with his torso, the feel of him hummed through her.
“Maybe,” she murmured. “Why don’t you reach around here and see for yourself.”
He must have picked up on her meaning. His arms embraced her from behind, drawing her backward into his body, and his fingers fumbled around the edge of the hole without delving more than half an inch into it.
“Nope. Nothing in there.” His lips nuzzled her neck as he spoke and she could tell his attention was firmly on her. The hard length grinding into her rear said he’d lost interest in whatever else might be in the decades-old hiding place as well. “But what have we here?”
“I think you better investigate,” she said, and guided his hands under her shirt, gasping as his questing fingertips ran over her sensitive breasts.
“You’re not fully dressed,” he accused her with a naughty laugh. “Ms. Montoro, I am shocked at your lack of undergarments. It’s almost as if you expected a bloke’s hands to be under your shirt.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Her core heated as he caressed her, nudging her rear with his hard erection. “And as you’re the only man around, you’re welcome.”
His laugh vibrated along her spine, warming her further. She loved it when he laughed, loved being the reason he was amused. Loved it when he touched her as if he’d discovered something rare and precious and he planned to become intimately familiar with every nook and cranny.
Then he got serious, palming her aching nipples, massaging and working her flesh until she could hardly breathe from wanting him. Would she ever get tired of that, of the gasping need and clawing desire? She hoped not.
She
