The maid showed us to our room, which sat at the top of a wide, curving staircase and directly to the left. Several other doors lined the long hallway, all closed. She opened our door, and my heart pounded so hard I almost couldn’t hear over the blood rushing in my ears.

Our bedroom.

For the whole weekend.

Well, we had more than enough space—roughly the size of my entire apartment. No wonder Max thought my place was small. A four-poster bed sat against one wall. I couldn’t look at it without blushing. There was a chaise lounge by the window. I wondered if Max would do the gentlemanly thing and offer to spend the night in it, or do the caveman thing and demand to share the bed. I almost hoped he’d demand.

Okay, I did more than almost hope.

I ran my hand over the beautiful antique dresser, then examined the lovely little vanity and velvet padded stool. The room was decorated in shades of cream and light gray, with touches of yellow here and there which brightened up all the dark wood in the floors and furniture. It reminded me of an English country hotel. I couldn’t imagine having entire rooms like that one, all set up just in case guests visited. I’d sleep in a different room each night just to say I got some use out of them.

Our bags had been placed along the wall, just as Max said they would.

“It’s unnerving,” I said, shaking my head.

“What is?”

“Having servants walking around, doing things while you’re enjoying the wine and the fire.”

He had started unpacking, pulling out socks and underwear. He stopped and looked at me strangely. “It’s not slavery, you know. They get paid very well for what they do. They chose this profession. Just like you chose yours.”

“Okay. Don’t bite my head off.”

“Then stop being such an inverted snob and pretending there is an insurmountable mountain of difference between you and me.”

“Hey, I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“You didn’t. I just think you will enjoy your weekend better without that chip on your shoulder.”

I bit my lip. He was right. Both Alexander and Millicent had shown me nothing but genuine hospitality. I should stop feeling so insecure and just have fun. “Hey. We didn’t talk about which drawers go to which person.”

He frowned. “There’s an entire chest of drawers here. We can split them up three and three.”

“I wanted the top drawers.”

“Why?”

“Just because,” I said airily.

“You’re so strange.” But he let me have my way, taking the fourth drawer and working his way down. Then he glanced up at me. “Aren’t you unpacking?”

I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. “I’ll wait my turn.”

He straightened up. “Why wait?”

“You can get the shit-eating grin off your face anytime you want,” I said, folding my arms.

“Are you afraid I’ll see your panties and lose all control?” he asked, taking one slow step toward me, then another.

“No.” Yes.

“Or do you want to make sure I don’t catch a glimpse of your sexy underwear?” He kept walking toward me, making me back away until he had me up against the bed.

“I’m just afraid you couldn’t handle it,” I quipped. “Your poor heart might not be able to take all the excitement.” My false bravado slipped when I realized there was nowhere for me to go. I feinted left, then right, trying to get around him—but he was too fast for me. I squealed as he threw his arms around me, pinning my arms to my sides. We both laughed and fell onto the bed.

He was right there, so close to me, and we were both horizontal. On a bed. I stopped laughing. So did he.

“I can take the chaise longue if you want.”

“Do you want to?” Please say no. Please say no. Please kiss me right now and say no.

One corner of his mouth curled upward as his eyes fixed on mine. “Do you want me to?”

I shook my head slowly. “Not when there’s all this bed to enjoy. But only if you think you can handle being so close to all this.” I waved my hands over my body.

He growled, setting my heart racing again. “I can barely handle it right now. What do you think it’ll be like later on?”

I would have answered, but I stopped breathing and I needed to be able to breathe if I wanted to speak.

“Dinner’s ready!” someone called from outside the door.

He groaned, and I laughed as the moment dissolved. What would have happened if one of the staff hadn’t made her announcement? I knew what would have happened. I was an adult, and it was time to stop pretending there was nothing between us. That our appearance that weekend was all fake because it wasn’t. I wasn’t nearly as unhappy to be there as I had pretended to be.

“So much for timing,” he muttered, rolling away from me.

Oh, boy. There was no missing the telltale bulge in his khakis. In a parallel universe I would be passing up on dinner and living on lovin’, but in my little world that would be rude and stupid. Though it would send a clear message to Josh, which would have almost made it worthwhile.

The thought of Josh reminded me of something important. I got up quickly, sex the last thing on my mind. All right, maybe not the last, but not the first anymore. “We have to get our stories straight.”

“On what?” Max sat up, still looking flustered and put out at being interrupted.

“On when and how we met.” I gave him a very brief, very abridged version of the run-in with Josh. “He asked when you came into the picture.”

“It’s none of his business.”

“Yes, well, I still think we should agree on a time when we started dating. Somebody’s bound to ask just to make small talk,” I pointed out.

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with saying we’ve known each other for a long time but didn’t start officially dating until a few weeks ago.”

“Works for me.” As long as it didn’t look like I was being just as slimy as Josh was.