He coasted his hands over her still trim middle to the little curve she was hiding with one of the stretchy skirts that seemed to multiply in her closet. He didn’t have much to complain about—skirts meant easy access, and he was all about that. But right now, his job was to remind his stunning wife that she was still gorgeous.
“Lemon drop is growing, that’s all. You’re perfect.”
She peered up at him with narrowed eyes. “Are you placating me?”
“Nope.” He leaned down and dropped a kiss on her lips, then the nape of her neck as he pulled the cups of her bra back down. “Just speaking truth.” His wife didn’t need to know that he had to use the very last hook on her bra. Some things were better left unsaid. He glanced down at the bed and found her blouse. He helped her into it then tugged her over in front of the mirror to do up the buttons. “See, perfect.”
Margo tugged at the tiny gap between her glorious breasts then quickly unbuttoned her shirt and stripped it off.
Simon sighed, but let her go back into the closet. There were some battles he wasn’t going to win. When she came back out with one of her twin sweater sets, he resisted the urge to groan. He hadn’t seen those since before they were together. “You ready to go?”
She nodded. “Yes. The realtor said she’d meet us at the third house on our list.”
“Third?” He huffed out an annoyed growl. “We wanted to look at the Santa Monica one first.”
“She said something about a cleaning service for an open house.”
“What? We had first dibs on that house.” He’d looked through every listing for the house and every photo he could find. He was sure that was the one. Dammit, he didn’t want to look at anything else.
“It’s just an open house. It’s not sold yet, Simon.”
“I don’t want anyone else in there.”
She stepped into her heels before stopping in front of him. “Sorry, rockstar. It’s their house, they can do what they want.”
“I just don’t want someone trying to outbid us.”
Margo patted his chest. “We haven’t even seen the house.”
He covered her hand against his heart. “I know. I just have a feeling.”
She nibbled on her lower lip. “Me too,” she whispered and pressed a kiss to his chin. “Let’s go look at the other one to make sure that feeling is true.”
“All right.”
“Don’t pout.”
“I’m not pouting.”
“You’re totally pouting.” She grabbed her purse on the way out of their room. “Come on. We’re going to be late. Especially since you don’t remember how to drive with any urgency anymore.”
“I’ve got more precious cargo to worry about.”
She gave him a little side eye, but didn’t give him any more shit as they left the penthouse and headed for the elevators.
“How did it go with Ian?”
He stabbed the down button. “Fine.”
“Just fine?”
He shrugged. “The kid is as fresh as one of those dandelion things. And just as weedy.”
She tapped his lips lightly as she sailed into the elevator. “Your bitchy side is showing.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t know why they needed me in there. I just watched.” And listened to that little shit with his near perfect voice. Then again, he’d had to tamp down the urge to gloat when the producer guy kept bringing Ian down a peg or seven.
He sighed as they exited the elevator and crossed the parking garage to his Audi. “The kid has some innate talent, but the studio frustrates him.”