“Your room is upstairs. Second door on the right.”
Adam trailed behind her as she climbed the grand staircase.
“This one?” she asked, poking her head inside, still a bit light-headed from the memory of the shower.
Adam reached past her and flipped on the light, illuminating a bedroom outfitted with a beautifully dressed king bed, a stacked stone fireplace and its own seating area. “I hope this will work.” He followed her into the room, placing her suitcase on a luggage stand next to a gorgeous Craftsman-style bureau.
“It’s perfect.” Melanie turned to face him, his physical presence exercising undue influence on her as he rubbed the closely cropped stubble dotting his jawline. Her brain wasn’t sure how to react to his kindness, but her body knew exactly what it thought. The flutter in her chest returned. Heat flooded her, the memory of his fingers tracing the length of her spine while he had her in a bed much like the one she was standing next to. “Thank you for everything. The room. Fetching my suitcase.”
“I hate to disappoint you, but I’m not the cad the world thinks I am.” He strode past her, stopping in the doorway.
She wasn’t sure what Adam was, where exactly the truth lay. Maybe she’d find out this weekend. And maybe she’d never know. “That’s good. That will make it a lot easier to show the world the best side of Adam Langford.”
A clever smirk crossed his face. “You’ve seen me naked, so I’d say you’re definitely qualified to say which is my best side.”
Melanie’s brain sputtered. Her cheeks flamed with heat.
“Good night,” he said, turning and walking away.
Melanie sat up in bed, half-awake, tugging the butter-soft duvet to her chest. Last night hadn’t gone according to plan, but in many ways, it was a relief to have the whole, stupid, ridiculously hot thing out in the open.
It’d taken hours to fall asleep. Adam’s reminder that she’d seen him naked had only set her on the course of determining which side was indeed his best. After revisiting their night together...kissing in the limo, unzipping her dress in his living room, peeling the paint off the walls in the shower...she’d decided the front. Definitely the front.
Too bad she could never see him like that again.
She threw back the covers and glanced outside at the open vista of the grounds surrounding the house. A creek rushed along the edge of manicured gardens, threatening to breach its rocky banks. Towering pines framed the view of the Blue Ridge Mountains beyond. It was a new day, storms a distant memory. Time to start fresh.
She retrieved her makeup bag, beelining to the beautifully appointed guest bath—gray granite countertops and silvery glass tile, a soaking tub for two. After a quick shower, she dabbed on foundation and undereye concealer to hide her lack of sleep. A sweep of blush, some eyeliner and a coat of mascara came next. Polished was appropriate, not done-up.
Finishing with a sheer layer of pale peach lip gloss, Melanie rubbed her lips together and popped them to the mirror. She could hear her mother’s syrupy Virginia drawl. You catch more flies with honey than vinegar. She remembered first hearing that when she was a little girl, only six years old. It was the strongest memory she had of her mother, which also made it the most bittersweet. She and her sisters lost her to a car accident months later.
Melanie ruffled her pixie-cut hair and swept it to the side. Lopping off and dying her hair to exorcise the memory of her lying, cheating ex might have been drastic, but she’d had this crazy idea about renewal. It hadn’t really worked. She still hadn’t gotten past the fact that she’d thought Josh would propose. She hadn’t forgotten that he’d packed up and left with another woman, leaving her to fend for herself. No, she might’ve looked a little different on the outside, but she was the same Melanie on the inside—hurt some of the time, lonely most of the time, determined not to quit all of the time.
Back in her room, she slipped on a white scoop-neck tee, black cardigan and slim-fitting pair of jeans. She stepped into ballet flats and hurried downstairs, the smell of coffee wafting in from the kitchen. She was invigorated, undaunted, ready to go. And then she saw Adam.
You’ve got to be kidding me. She’d come downstairs prepared to work, but she hadn’t bargained on Adam’s bare chest. Or his bare stomach. Or an extra eight hours of scruff along his jaw and the narrow trail of hair below his belly button. More than that, she hadn’t bargained on any part of him glistening with sweat.
“Morning.” He stood in the kitchen, consulting his phone. “I made coffee. Let me get you a mug.” He turned, opened the cabinet and reached for a coffee cup. Gentlemanly behavior, all while showing off the sculpted contours of his shoulders and defined ripples of his back.
Her eyes drifted south, calling into question whether the front really was the best. The way he filled out the rear view of his basketball shorts made a compelling case for the back. Then she remembered what that view looked like without clothes. She was all kinds of conflicted over the best-side verdict.
“Cream? Sugar?” he asked, filling her mug.
“Both, please.” She shook her head in an attempt to think straight. “I’ll do it.”
“Help yourself.” He gestured to a small white pitcher and sugar bowl. “Sleep well?”
She spooned the sugar into the mug, gluing her focus to the steaming coffee. “I did, thank you. I’m ready to get started whenever you are. We have a lot of ground to cover today.”
“Already got in my workout.”
“So I see.” She turned, but even a fraction of a second was too long to look at Adam right now. Her eyes darted all over the room, desperate for something undesirable to look at.
“Is something wrong?”
“No. It’s just...” Her voice trailed off, betraying her. “You can’t put on a shirt?”
“Why? Does it bother you? I can’t help the fact that I’m hot.” He grabbed her attention with his blazing smile, smoothing his hand over the flat plane of his stomach.
“Excuse me?”
“Hot, as in temperature hot.”
Damn him. “It’s a little difficult for us to keep things professional when you’re traipsing around the house half-dressed.”
“I assure you, I have never once traipsed.”
“Regardless, isn’t it polite to wear a shirt to breakfast?”
“It is. My mother always made me wear one when I was a kid. She also told me to floss every day and wear clean underwear. So I’ll be two-for-three today. Nobody’s perfect.”
He knows what he’s doing. He’s making me crazy because he can. “Look, we have a ton of work to do. I suggest you grab a shower so we can start.”
“It’ll go faster if I have someone to scrub my back.”
“Adam, please. The contract I signed? No fraternization or interpersonal relations? I take those things very seriously, and I know your dad does, too.”
“We both know the only way to enforce that is the honor system.” His eyebrows bounced.
“Yeah, well, you need to keep your honor system in your pants.”
“Hey, you’re the one suggesting showers. Not me.”
Melanie exhaled in exasperation. “Things will go smoother today if you cooperate. Why do you have to joke around about everything?”
“Because it’s Saturday and I work my ass off all week and I’d much rather