Marrying My Billionaire Hookup

Should I bring it up now, after some time has passed?

But he looks relaxed and at ease now, propped against the headboard and checking some work email. If I mention his mother, that good mood is going to vanish.

It doesn’t have to be now, I tell myself. I can always ask later. Or ask Yuna privately.

I got lucky in the family department, and he obviously didn’t. Trying to extract an explanation feels like a kind of subtle nastiness. Like a kid who got an A on a test asking a kid who obviously did poorly how he did.

So I keep all the questions swirling in my head to myself, even though a small voice is telling me that’s not the best move if I’m planning on having something lasting with Edgar.

Chapter Forty-Nine

Jo

Something tickles my forehead. I wave my hand, trying to brush it away.

“Hey.” Edgar’s mellow voice is as sexy as always…but the hour is not.

“Go away,” I say, utterly grouchy. “I need sleep, you beast.”

Edgar chuckles. “You need to get up.” The tickling sensation returns, but this time on my cheek.

“No. I’m tired. You kept m

e up late.”

“I restrained myself, given your delicate condition,” he says like he’s proud of himself.

“Restraint? You call that restraint? You think you got an A, when it’s really an F.”

“Hmm… For fantastic fornication?” There’s laughter in his voice.

I can’t believe he’s actually making jokes when I’m this sleepy. “You’re being unfair. Go away. Wanna sleep more.”

“It’s already ten thirty.”

Did he just say…? “Ten thirty!” I shriek, jackknifing up.

Edgar’s reflexes are superb, because he jerks back quickly enough that we don’t crack skulls. “Yes.”

“Oh my God, I have an appointment! In less than two hours!”

More like an hour and a half. Ack! And I haven’t showered yet! I hop off the bed, then stumble toward the bathroom.

“You have to eat breakfast! My daughter’s hungry!”

“It’s my son, and no, he’s not! He’s an understanding baby!”

I shut the door behind me and jump into the shower. Why didn’t the alarm go off? Did I forget to set it last night? It’s certainly possible. I was distracted by the fact that Edgar wouldn’t volunteer information about his mom…and then he started to take advantage of my body.

Okay, so it was more like mutually taking advantage, because I rolled him over and rode him, which was fun. But I need to focus now. I can’t be late to this meeting!

I blow-dry my hair, put on makeup in record time, then shimmy into a black and silver tube dress. Still looks fabulous on me. When am I going to start showing and developing cankles? I know they’re coming. I just wish somebody in the medical community would find a way to stop it. If we can land spacecraft on Mars, surely we can cure cankles.

Hoisting a purse over my shoulder, I head downstairs. If I hurry and there’s no traffic, I might make it a little early. And by a little, I mean five minutes.

Cutting it way too close, I think. You never know with L.A. traffic.

“Here, take this.” Edgar hands me half a bagel laden with cream cheese and a tumbler full of ginger and herb tea, from the way it smells.