Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92411 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92411 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
I don’t know what it is, but something has shifted between us this morning. There’s an easiness, a knowing between us that wasn’t there before.
“You’re a fabulous dancer,” I say. Of all the talents I could imagine Ben having, ballroom dancing wasn’t one of them.
“You’ve got good rhythm,” he replies, looking away and over my shoulder as our movements get smaller and smaller. “And now you’ve reenacted one of your favorite scenes.”
“Day made. No—life made.” More and more, Ben’s featuring in my favorite parts of this trip. And it’s not just because of how much time we’re spending together.
A grin unfurls on his face, revealing his rarely seen dimple.
“How many people know you can dance?”
He narrows his eyes like he’s looking into my soul. “It’s my secret superpower.”
I laugh. “I bet there’s a small club of women who know the truth. It’s got to be the world’s easiest way to get someone into bed with you.” If I didn’t think Ben was the most attractive man I’d ever laid eyes on before today, I certainly do now.
He doesn’t say anything; we just dance in silence. The smell and feel of him is solid, familiar. Almost like he belongs to me. I could stay like this, in this weird filmlike reality, forever.
We’ve drifted apart a little and he pulls me closer. I lean my head on his chest, enjoying the warmth of his hand on my back. He seems in no hurry to go back to the house, and neither am I. I can’t think of anyplace better to be other than swaying in my fake fiancé’s arms. For a few minutes, maybe real life can ebb away, and I can pretend the fantasy is all there is.
Chapter Seventeen
Ben comes out of the bathroom just like he did last night, but things have changed. The shift between us today at the tree, in the walled garden, hasn’t reset as I thought it might. There’s a closeness between us now that’s more than just physical. We’re connected in a way that’s hard to explain.
Today at lunch, he was so attentive he seemed to know exactly what I was thinking and feeling. Just before I realized I needed his reassurance, his hand would find its way to my leg for a couple of seconds. During dinner, a look or a shift of his chair toward me suggested that his mind was as occupied with me as mine was with him. Maybe it’s been growing since we arrived here—maybe since we met—but it feels like we’re inching toward the peak of a mountain and we’re about to get to enjoy the view.
I hope we’re not in a bubble that will pop with the slightest pressure.
“Hey,” he says as he comes through the bathroom door and sees me sitting on the bed.
“Hey,” I reply. It seems ridiculous that he’s taking the couch when I have this enormous bed. “You’re sure you’re okay on the couch? There’s plenty of room in this bed.”
“I’m fine,” he says, much to my disappointment.
He heads to the window and peeks through the curtains. “It’s raining,” he says.
“How is that possible?” I ask. “It was bright sunshine a few hours ago.”
“A sign autumn is on its way.” He takes the pillows and comforter from the bed and arranges them just like he did last night, then slips under the blanket, eye mask in hand.
“I had a really nice time today,” I say.
It seems ludicrous that I’m getting paid to be here. I’m having a better time than I would have in London on my own. I’m getting to experience more of the country I’m visiting, meeting more people, even seeing more Daniel De Luca film locations.
“Good,” he says as he tucks an arm behind his head. I flop back onto the bed, restless and not ready to sleep.
“How did snooker go with the duke?” As shooting was abandoned, the duke joined us for lunch and then invited Ben, Nick, and some of the other men to play snooker with him. The duchess arranged in-room massages for wives and girlfriends, or pedicures in the morning room. She and I spent the afternoon going through the house, and she regaled me with more stories from the filming of A Duchess for a Duke. Most excitingly, she confirmed the affair between Daniel and Avani. I’d had a lovely afternoon, but it was strange to be separated from Ben. I doubt the feeling was mutual. Ben got what he wanted, which was time with the duke.
He sucks in a breath. “Really bloody well actually.”
“Really? Tell me.”
“Apparently the duchess is trying to convince him he needs to take control of his legacy. He doesn’t want distant relatives inheriting, so he’s considering liquidating some assets and creating a foundation to support worthy causes.”
I sit bolt upright and crawl to the end of the bed to see his expression. How is this guy not punching the air with excitement? “What’s the catch?”