“It’s been a rather . . . frustrating process.” I click out of the website I was perusing and turn more fully to face him.

“I know someone who designs rugs. Has a studio where they’re hand woven.” He smiles. “Every one of them is like a work of art.”

“I’m sure they are. Very expensive works of art,” I stress. We’re completely over budget but he flat out doesn’t care. He spares no expense. It sort of drives me crazy.

And makes me admire him even more.

He shakes his head. “I’ve never seen a person so obsessed with rugs before.”

“That’s because I have an idea in my head I can’t shake.” I tap my forehead. “And it sucks because I’m forever disappointed in every stupid rug I see.”

“That does it. I’m calling her right now and we’ll make an appointment to see her tomorrow. She can create whatever you want, she’s that good.” He whips out his phone and starts scrolling through his contacts. “Actually, I’ll text her, see if she’s available in the morning.”

“Archer, we only have a few days until we’re open. No way can she get them done in time.” I shake my head, shocked he would go to such lengths to please me.

“Then we’ll throw some solid color rugs out for a few days to cover while I insist she rush the process. Trust me, they’ll work on the rugs twenty-four-seven if I pay her right.”

“They’re not worth that much . . .” I start, but he silences me with a look that I find so incredibly sweet and sexy I feel my heart crack a little more every time I see it.

Like right now. It’s cracking wide open, all for Archer.

“If it makes you happy, it’s worth it. You’ve already sketched out what you wanted for me, remember?”

I nod, a little embarrassed that we’re having this discussion over freaking rugs. “That you’re willing to go to such lengths over something you don’t know what it’s going to look like says a lot.”

“Like I’m crazy?” His smile grows, that dimple of his flashing and I lean in, giving it a kiss.

“I’m the crazy one.” Crazy for you . . .

Just thinking that freaks me out a little.

“Yeah, you are, baby,” he drawls. I love it when he calls me baby. My stomach flutters as he leans in closer, and I can make out every speck of stubble on his cheeks, see the tiredness in his dark brown eyes. He looks as exhausted as I feel and I have the sudden urge to comfort him.

“You’re definitely crazy though,” I say, entranced with the gold flecks in his brown eyes, the way they look at me full of so much emotion. Emotion I can’t quite figure out but I don’t want to. It’s a little scary to contemplate, and I’m not ready to face it yet. “You’re drastically over budget.”

“You’re the one who put the budget on me. The sky’s the limit for this place. I already told you that.” He kisses me, his lips lingering, and just like that I want him.

He makes me want to lose all control . . . and gladly.

Pulling back, I roll my eyes. The budget I tried to get him to agree to has flown right out the window. No wonder he drives his father crazy. Don Bancroft plans and plots to the finest detail. He has a list and a chart and a spreadsheet for every little thing. He doesn’t go a penny over budget unless he’s absolutely forced to, at least according to the stories my brother told me. And when he does go over budget, he’s grumbling and griping the entire time.

Whereas Archer tends to fly by the seat of his pants and hope like hell it all comes together. It worked for him before with Hush. I know it’s going to work this time around too with Crave. I can feel it. His love and excitement for this opening far outshines anything else.

Well, his excitement for me is pretty shiny too. Love? Yeah, I doubt that, but I’m going to revel in what we share while we have it. Because it’s fleeting, I know this.

I think he knows it too.

Our two weeks together are almost up, and I can hardly stand the thought of being away from him.

“We shouldn’t have your friend make those rugs. I’m sure I can find something that’ll work. I like the solid color idea. It’s simple. Won’t put me through so much torture while I look for the perfect pattern. Now I just need to find the perfect color.” I turn away from him, my finger poised to resume scrolling, and he touches my arm, causing me to look at him again.

“I already texted her. We’ll meet with her tomorrow first thing. Your work day is officially over.” He smiles, softening his demanding words. “I’ll take you to dinner if you’d like.”

“Where?” I ask breathlessly, my arm tingling from his touch. His palm is wide, his fingers long, and he’s smoothing his hand up and down my arm, making my breath come a little quicker. “I’m kinda tired. It’s been a long day.”

“We could stay here tonight. There are a couple of suites available. We could order room service, maybe?” He raises his brows, waiting for my answer.

I’ve wanted to try out those outdoor bathtubs built for two since I first saw one. Working with Archer has turned into a kind of torturous foreplay, one I both delight and agonize in. All the wanting and the yearning throughout the day, the lingering glances and the quick touches.

Archer Bancroft makes me feel like a confident, smart, and desirable woman. And I’m going to wield my newfound power on the very man who gave it to me.

Archer

“ROOM SERVICE SOUNDS perfect,” Ivy says after a too long pause. Hell, for a minute there I thought she was going to say no.

It was slow at Hush, which worked out in my favor since I spent half of my time in Calistoga lately. Always with Ivy by my side, helping me, offering her suggestions, guiding me when I went off track, me pushing her when she was being too conservative.

First day in, I realized pretty quickly we make a good team. There are enough differences between us which balance our personalities and allow us to work well together. Hard to notice when in the past, all we ever did was argue every time we came together.

But the arguing was a result of all that troublesome sexual attraction getting in the way. Not that it’s disappeared. Hell no. But we’re taking care of that issue every single night. We’re both exhausted after a heavy and long workday, but we always make time for each other. In bed. Wrapped around each other, na**d limbs entangled. My ultimate task of the day is making Ivy moan with pleasure.

I’m falling for her. Hard. Fast. I don’t want her to leave. She feels like a true partner in every sense of the word.

That scares the shit out of me.

Working side by side with Ivy since she came here has been exhilarating. Getting to know her, watching her in her element has left me impressed. She may be young and at an early point in her career, but she’s smart and instinctive, with excellent taste. Without a doubt, I know my resort is going to look unbelievable when we’re finished.

I just hope we can wrap it all up and have it ready in the next few days. That’s the only thing making me anxious.

Well, that and the fact that as soon as Crave opens, Ivy’s gone. Out of my life.

Fuck, that fills me with so much despair I can barely stand thinking about it. She doesn’t think I’ll stick. And sometimes I doubt myself too. I don’t want to subject her or myself to a relationship that’s doomed to fail.

But are we really doomed? I don’t know. I’m so used to thinking that way, it’s hard to believe anything else.

“So you want to get a room? Or eat here in the office then head on home?” I definitely don’t want the formality of my office this evening, eating at my desk, talking business like we’ve been doing constantly since I’ve brought her here.

I want to be in a suite tonight, alone with her and shut off from the rest of the world. We can eat, plan our schedule for tomorrow, and then indulge in each other. My favorite part of the day is the nights. Being alone with Ivy.

Being inside Ivy.

How will I feel, though, when it’s all over? Normally, with women, it’s never an issue. Hell, I don’t allow women to become this close to me ever. Their expectations grow to insurmountable proportions, and I’m left fending off their disappointment and sense of abandonment.

I have this feeling that with Ivy, it will become difficult to let her out of my sight, let alone out of my life. I’ll be the one with the sense of abandonment when she leaves me.

“How about I call the order in and you go get us a suite?” I suggest.

She smiles, her hazel eyes sparkling. When she looks at me like that, I feel ten feet tall and like I can do no wrong. It’s too easy, what we share.

I remember complaining to Gage that it made me nervous when things were too easy. I should be feeling that way at this very moment.

But all I can do is think about how pretty she is. How much I want to kiss her. How I enjoy spending every waking moment with her. Every sleeping moment with her too.

“Sounds perfect. I’ve been wanting to try one of those outdoor bathtubs, you know,” she admits coyly. “Do you want me to order for you? I love how the menu is always changing.”

That’s because I hired a world-class chef who’s a pain in my ass and worth every penny I pay him. “Yeah, order me something. You know what I like. I’ll come find you in about ten minutes, okay? I have a few things I need to wrap up first.”

“All right.” Shutting her laptop, she stands and I grab her, pulling her into my arms. She turns more fully into me, her gaze meeting mine, eyes large and unreadable as she grips my tie and pulls me in for a kiss. I bury my hands in her hair, messing it up completely, not giving a shit. I love it when she’s messy and looking dazed, her cheeks flushed, her lips swollen from our constant kissing.

Damn it, I have it bad for this woman. And I don’t really care if anyone knows it or not. Even Matt.

Even Gage.

Yeah, I need to tell Gage. They both need to know what’s going on. Not that I’m coughing up the money, not yet. They said she didn’t count, but damn it, she counts to me. But I won’t be paying off any sort of bet until I put a ring on her finger.

I can’t believe I’m contemplating putting a ring on Ivy’s finger.

“I’ll see you in a bit then?” she murmurs when I finally break the kiss. Her face is turned up to mine, her lips still slightly pursed, her lids heavy, giving her a sultry, sexy look. Her scent surrounds me, heady and sweet, and I’m tempted to jump her right here. Wouldn’t be the first time we f**ked around on top of my desk. Last time, I’d pushed her skirt up, tugged her panties aside, and made her come with just my tongue in record time. Had to, since there’d been a meeting I needed to attend and they were all waiting for me.

I’m getting hard just remembering it.

“Yeah, I’ll be quick, I promise.” I’m already anxious to see her and she hasn’t even left yet. She smiles as if she can read my mind, and I lick my lips, staring at her mouth, ready to give in and kiss her again. She sways toward me, a little sigh leaving her as our mouths come closer, closer . . .

My f**king cell phone rings and I spring away from her, running a hand through my hair, sending it into a haphazard mess. We’ve been rudely interrupted before, and I hate it. “Shit,” I mutter as I pull it out of my pocket and see the number, watching as Ivy steps back, smoothing a few loose strands of hair behind her ear, nibbling on her lower lip.

Damn it, I wish I was the one nibbling on her lower lip.

“What the hell is going on with you and my sister?” Gage says. No hello, no what’s up. Just launches right in with the diatribe.

“She’s working for me, Gage. You already know this.” I look at Ivy, who’s pointing at the door and mouthing See you later before she dashes out of my office without another word.

Lucky her, she doesn’t have to deal with her pissed-off brother.

“Yeah, but I saw some cozy picture of the two of you together. It looks like you’re about to kiss her.” Gage is literally yelling at me. “What the hell, man?”

“What picture are you talking about?” Oh. Shit. Who took a photo of us? And where? Do I have the paparazzi trailing my ass?

Of course I do. How easy I forget.

“I don’t know. You guys are outside somewhere. You’re standing real close and she’s leaning into you. It seriously looks like the two of you are about to kiss or were just kissing.” Gage pauses, takes an audible deep breath. “If you’re with her, you better not break her heart. I’ll f**king kill you, Archer, and you know it.”

“I’m not with her,” I automatically say, wincing the moment the words fall from my lips. I’ve turned into a liar.

Easy as that.

“So what’s up with the picture? Oh yeah, and did I mention your arm is around her?”

Damn, did Gage withhold that bit of information on purpose?

“I have no idea. I’ll admit, we’ve become closer. We spend a lot of time together working. And we’re actually getting along. Can you believe it?” Nothing but silence on Gage’s end, which of course makes me want to squirm. “There’s nothing to worry about, Gage. I swear,” I say as I walk around my office and gather up miscellaneous papers and whatever else is lying around, cleaning it up for the end of the night. I’m full of nervous energy, and I need to keep myself occupied before I bust out a Fine-you-caught-me-I-think-I’m-falling-in-love-with-your-sister-tell-me-what-to-do confession.

“Tell me you’re not sleeping with her.”

Well hell. Leave it up to Gage to get right to the point.