A Hollywood Deal (Ryder & Paige 1)

After I’m done with the call, I shower and throw on a button-down shirt, dark brown cotton shorts and make my way to the kitchen. I’m starving. Jean places a three-egg omelet with cheese and a couple of slices of whole-wheat toast on the counter. Mira told me I should go gluten-free so I can maintain my youth longer, but I love bread. Besides, I don’t suffer from any ill effects, so I don’t know why I should give it up.

“Where’s Paige?” I ask.

“She already ate and went up to the office.”

I frown. That’s awfully diligent of her. I make a mental note to get a new assistant. Paige shouldn’t be so nose to the grindstone now that she’s my fiancée and soon-to-be wife.

As I munch on my food, I wonder if she had a dream about me. I didn’t get to climax…but I wouldn’t mind if she did. Actually I’d like to see her come while dreaming about me inside her.

And just like that, my cock’s hard again. I adjust the napkin on my lap.

I take a careful swallow of hot latte and try to think of something really un-sexy. Like… My gaze roams until I see a crystal tumbler drying in the kitchen. The tumbler reminds me of Elliot and my conversation with him. Which then reminds me that Anthony Blackwood is in town.

The last time we saw each other, he told me he’d make me pay, and he meant every word. I hate it that he’s back in L.A. The bastard now has the resources and means to fuck with me.

On the other hand… Not everything is about me. He has business interests here in the city. And he’s probably moved on. He’s always been more practical than me. Had to be, since his asshole dad disinherited him.

Pain slices me like a thousand paper cuts. My hand tightens around the mug handle, and I can almost hear the softly crooning voice, begging to be flown to the moon.

Damn it.

I hit the play button on my phone. Some kind of classical cello piece comes out of its tinny speaker.

Forcing myself to shake off the old ghost, I finish the last of my coffee and go upstairs. Paige is at her desk, going through my mail.

And she’s wearing glasses.

I’ve never seen her in a pair, but she looks as hot as hell behind the horn-rimmed frames, her hair pulled back into a tidy bun. A white blouse and a gray pencil skirt that hug her curves just right complete the Sexy Librarian effect.

A small frown pinches her face, and she runs her teeth across her plump lower lip. My body tightens. I’d rather feel them against my mouth as I suck on her tongue. Her lips are amazing, full and soft and naturally pink. The shape of them together reminds me of a budding rose. What would be it like to have them around my dick?

My cock hardens instantly. If it could talk, it’d cry, “Let’s find out!”

Stop it, idiot, and play the role. Paige made it clear last night that she wasn’t interested in me that way. And I always respect people’s boundaries. To her, marrying me is a transaction.

The thought is as welcome as a cow pie at one of Elizabeth’s charity functions.

Just then Paige looks up from the letter in her hand.

“Morning, babe.” I plop down in the armchair across from her desk before she can notice my erection.

“Morning.” She drinks from The Sexiest Man Alive mug, most of her face hidden behind it. I make a mental note to get her one that says Wife of the Sexiest Man Alive. It should be black with gold lettering to match the one in her hand.

“Love your glasses. Sexy librarian,” I say when she’s done with her coffee.

“I’m only wearing them because I don’t have any contact cleaning solution.”

Her tart tone makes me want to find out how I can add a bit of honey to it. Contrary to people’s assumptions, I don’t like women who cling to me or agree with everything I say. I get enough of that from the people on my payroll. A little sass is better. “I thought the movers brought everything over.”

“I needed to buy a bottle yesterday, but I forgot in the”—she rolls her wrist—“excitement.”

“You should’ve asked Sue.” Sue Grotts is the chief housekeeper. “That’s what she’s for.”

Paige clears her throat. “I’ll make a note of it.”

“So…anything interesting?” I indicate all the new mail on her desk.

“No. Most of these aren’t for you.”