Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 108173 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108173 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
“I’m not sure that would work for me,” she said, and he frowned, dropping the heavy looking bags on the floor. The resultant thuds made her jump.
“This place has seven bedrooms, an entertainment lounge, a cinema room; we could quite easily share without getting in each other’s way.”
“I don’t want that.”
“You want me to go? Or do you want to leave?” His calm voice made her feel unreasonable and bitchy and she chewed on the inside on her lip, before shrugging.
“How long do you intend to stay?”
“I haven’t decided yet. A few days.”
Lilah stared down at the dog, who at least had stopped snarling at her and was now just glaring. She couldn’t believe he’d actually kept this cute little bundle of aggression and nerves. But there she stood, smaller than life, her body language hostile.
Ben was a notorious workaholic, he spent long hours at the office. If he stayed on his side of the house, and she stayed on hers, they could easily avoid each other. Especially if he followed his usual work patterns.
She gave a brusque nod.
“Okay, we can share, but you take the mountain-facing room at the end of the hall. And stay out of the blue bedroom, I’ve converted it into a work space. I’m sleeping in my usual room.”
He said nothing, merely nodded meekly.
“And call your vicious guard dog off. I probably won’t murder you in your sleep… probably. So she can relax.”
He full on smiled at that, and Lilah averted her eyes, not wanting to be charmed by that smile. She felt like hell, undoubtedly looked worse, she didn’t need this perfect man in her space, making her feel inadequate with his otherworldly damned good looks. Ugh, and now she would have to hide her constant nausea from him too. Why hadn’t she considered that before her easy acquiescence?
It was too late now, he picked up the bags again and called Fifi to heel. The little dog obeyed smartly and she watched the unlikely duo vacate the room.
This was not ideal. She hadn’t once considered that fact that they now co-owned the Bantry Bay house. It had simply never occurred to her that he may occasionally want to stay here as well.
She wrapped her arms around her torso and sank onto the sofa again, her eyes back on the gray horizon.
When Ben returned less than five minutes later, he was carrying a bright pink fluffy cushion, which he tossed onto the floor next to the currently dead fireplace.
“Lie down,” he told Fifi, who happily trotted over to the cushion—well, dog bed—and curled up. The dog was out of her ultra-suede pale pink harness and leash ensemble and was now wearing a pink coat with faux ermine trim. Her liquid black eyes tracked Ben’s every move, as he strolled into the open plan kitchen and started opening and closing cabinet doors.
“I’m going to make lunch, you want some?”
Not sure who he was talking to, Lilah stared at him in confusion and he smiled again, she marveled at how easily he was smiling and wondered why he appeared to be in such good spirits.
“You talking to me or the dog?” she asked, and he actually laughed.
“Lilah, would you like lunch?”
“This isn’t exactly staying out of my way, Ben,” she felt compelled to point out.
“Surely we can discuss the parameters of our arrangement over this one shared meal?”
“I’m not really hungry,” she said, not wanting him to witness her jumping up and dashing for the bathroom if the food made her nauseous. He actually looked disappointed by her reply.
“I’m making your favorite,” he cajoled, and she narrowed her eyes.
“What’s my favorite?” she asked, and he gave her another one of those easy grins.
“Chicken parmigiana with mashed potatoes,” he replied, acing her test.
“Get out, you don’t know how to make chicken parmigiana,” she said, forgetting herself for an instant. He actually laughed at her reaction, his eyes sparking with humor.
“You’re right, I don’t. My cooking skills are a bit more basic than that… but I can order in.”
“What were you really going to make?”
“Ham and cheese toasted sandwiches.” His sheepish reply startled a laugh out of her and he looked oddly pleased by her response.
“Sure. I’ll have a toastie,” she said, and he smiled again. Why did he look so happy just because she was having a sandwich with him? What the hell was going on with him today?
She looked at him, really gave him a thorough once-over, when he passed her and sank to his haunches to give his dog a biscuit to munch on. He was wearing a pair of faded almost to gray jeans and a navy-blue button-down shirt. He’d lost weight. She could see it in his face. And in the loose fit of his jeans and shirt. His dark hair was longer and scruffier than he usually wore it, and his strong jaw was dark with stubble.