“A window to the world. A window to the world. A window to the world.”

I yawn. I don’t really want to move any other part of my body. It’s hard to want to do much of anything when I’m sprawled on the cushy king-sized bed in a fancy hotel room.

“You’ve been reading that clue for hours,” I say. “It’s not going to change this time.”

Come to bed, I add silently. Ravish me all over again.

“From inside and above,” Max reads, “it’s a window to the world. Arrive to see it first, and you’ll find your prize unfurled.”

“Just when I thought your grandfather couldn’t get any vaguer.” I smile. “There’s only about five hundred windows on this hotel building alone. Take the entire country into account, and, well . . . Plus, who says he’s limiting this search to the country?”

If we start allowing for metaphorical windows, the whole thing gets even more impossible.

“I’ve still got nothing.” Max sighs.

“But if we’ve got nothing, I can’t see how Artie or Parker could have figured it out. Maybe you just need to sleep on it,” I point out. “And this is clearly the place to do it.” I stretch out on the duvet, which is so soft it should be illegal. The suite is bigger than my apartment and ten times fancier. Marble sink and heated tiles in the bathroom, velvet furniture all through the main room—Olivia would love it here. I think that might even be actual gold in the wallpaper pattern. Because why not?

Max turns toward me, and if the heat in his expression is anything to go by, it’s not sleeping he’s thinking about right now. Before I can stoke those flames, his cellphone sounds. He glances at his phone and winces.

“It’s my lawyers. I’d better see what they want.”

Max heads into the living room—because yes, this is a whole fucking suite—and I snuggle deeper into the down pillows. This is the life. Gorgeous hotel room, check. Even more gorgeous man, double check.

Gorgeous diamond ring on my finger . . .

I gulp. Oh yeah, that whole “fake fiancée/contracted relationship” part of things. It had kind of slipped my mind, what with the crimes and misdemeanors—and wild, hot sex.

This definitely wasn’t in the employee handbook.

I check my messages and see a couple of missed calls from Olivia. Whom I’ve been ignoring for days. Sure, I’ve been just a little busy on this treasure hunt, but also, my guilty conscience is waking from it’s post-coital slumber. Sure, there wasn’t anything in the contract forbidding consensual sex, but she spent so long stressing how professional her operation was, I’m guessing she wouldn’t look too kindly on me blurring the lines like this.

I brace myself, and call.

Olivia answers on the second ring, her voice as smooth and warm as always. “Hallie! How have you been doing? I hope the radio silence means everything’s going smoothly.”

“Yes,” I lie. “Just fine. Max’s grandfather sprung a surprise on us, so we’ve been kind of busy.”

I quickly fill her in on the scavenger hunt, and she laughs. “Wow. Well, I do tell my clients to expect the unexpected.”

Like wild, hot sex in a gross hotel room. And barely escaping a minor felony with our limbs intact.

“Yup, it’s been a ride!” I answer brightly. “Actually, I’m having fun. And Max . . . well, he’s not what I expected.”

Something must come across in my tone, because Olivia clears her throat. “Good, just as long as you remember this arrangement is temporary. I know it’s your first time working like this, but it’s easy to forget. Lines can get blurred, being in such close proximity . . .”

Is that her way of asking if we’re banging like bunny rabbits?

I cough. “I remember. Lines, firmly in place.”

“Good. I know it’s easy to get swept up in the moment. After all, you’re pretending to be in love. But at the end of the day, that’s all it is. Pretend.”

My face flushes. Thank God she can’t see me. “Of course not. I know that.”

“Great. Then I’ll leave you to it. We can chat more when you’re back in town. It’s just another . . . three days.”

“Right. Sure. See you then.”

I hang up and flop back on the bed. Three more days? I can’t believe it’s flown by so fast. It doesn’t feel like nearly enough time, not to get to know Max, and enjoy every last kiss . . .

Dammit.

I sit up, my stomach in knots. Olivia’s right. I have let myself get swept away. Sure, I don’t really believe Max and I are getting married. But I guess I was starting to think there might be something between us. A connection—besides the white-hot sexual chemistry, at least.

My heart sinks, and I try to look on the bright side. Maybe it’s for the best that this thing has an expiration date. After all, I swore off playboys, and Max is about as playful as they come. I wanted a real relationship, didn’t I? Sensible. Normal. Reliable.

After spending the past few days in a whirl of madcap desire, it sounds like I’m shopping for a vacuum cleaner.

Max emerges from the living room. “All set,” he says with obvious relief. “Enough business for today. I’m ready to get on with the pleasure part of the evening. Room service?”

Spending the night here with Max—and food—sounds tempting.

Too tempting.

“How about we go out?” I suggest instead. “We’ve been racing around so fast, I’ve forgotten where we are. And what day it is.”

“Your wish is my command.”

Being Max, of course he already has the best restaurant in the city on speed dial, with the ability to finagle a last-minute reservation. And of course we end up at the best table in the place, by a big window that overlooks a scenic river. The lights sparkle off the rippling water and classical music drifts through the dining room. The tablecloths are so white I’m not sure it’s safe to look straight at them, and the menu is just as lavish.

“What do you think, pookie bear?” I tease. “Foie gras before or after the truffles?”

Max laughs. “After, naturally. With caviar on the side.”

I wrinkle my nose. “Does anyone actually like caviar, or is it just one of those things rich people eat to show off how cultured they are?”

“To tell the truth, I never could stomach the stuff,” Max replies. “Give me a good old-fashioned steak any day.”

“Sounds good to me!”

For the first few minutes after the food arrives, we’re busy just filling our stomachs. Then Max leans back in his chair and pauses for breath.

“So, according to my lawyers, my cousins are all pitching a fit over this treasure hunt,” he says, looking rueful. “Well, everyone except Flora. Apparently, they’re still chasing their tails in Harperville. With eight flat tires.”

I laugh. “I don’t remember Franklin setting down any rules about fair play.”

“If he had, they’d have broken them a dozen times over already.” Max grins. “I have to admit, it’s been pretty satisfying seeing them flailing around, always one step behind us. It’s about time they realized they can’t discount me just because I’m not around sucking up to the investors 24/7.”

“Do you have any idea what your grandfather was thinking? I mean, I get that he’s gone a bit, erm, batty, but this seems like a really crazy way to choose an heir.”

Max shakes his head. “Honestly, I have no idea. I guess it’s what he said about feeling like none of us is putting in the work . . . But this isn’t exactly the kind of work it takes to run a corporate empire. Solving clues doesn’t help all the hundreds of people the company employs.”

“What would you do, anyway, if you win?” I ask. “I mean, not to jinx anything. But if the company is yours . . .”

“I don’t know.” Max pauses, his expression turning more thoughtful. “I don’t want to give up traveling, but at the same time . . . Well, there could be some benefits to staying in one place. Putting down roots.”

He meets my eyes, and my heart catches. Is he talking about us?

“I think you could do some pretty amazing things at the helm,” I say shyly. “If you let them sell it off, who knows what will happen to the company—and all the employees?”

“Yeah.” Max looks conflicted. “I guess I never thought about it like that. I figured the company would just keep on keeping on . . . But if they’re serious about selling to the highest bidder . . . I wouldn’t want to see the legacy we’ve built crumble, just like that.”

I reach across and squeeze his hand. “Maybe it doesn’t have to. I mean, how many more clues can there be? This time tomorrow, we could be at the finish line. And you could be the one deciding what happens to the company. You’d be a great CEO,” I add loyally, and it’s not just because I have a fantasy involving me, Max, and an executive desk.

He cares.

Sure, he can be reckless and charming, but I’m realizing that behind the playboy exterior, he’s also thoughtful and concerned about his responsibilities. He’s smart, and supportive, and—

Dammit.

These are real-girlfriend feelings. And a real girlfriend, I’m most definitely not.

“Anyway, I’m just saying, I hope for the company’s sake, you win.”

Max looks surprised. The intensity in his blue-gray eyes almost melts me. “You really mean that, don’t you?”

I cough, embarrassed. “Compliments completely on the house. As cocky, reckless billionaire playboys go, you’re not half bad.”

The corner of his mouth quirks up. Oh, right, I forgot “devastatingly handsome.” A phrase he’s also totally earning right now.

“You know,” he says, his voice dipping low, “in a lot of ways I’m glad my grandfather came up with this crazy scheme. It’s made me rethink a lot of things I probably should have before. And it also brought you into my life. I should thank him just for that.”

He squeezes my hand back. The warmth of his touch floods my entire body. I’m pretty sure I’m blushing. I want to ask him the questions I was asking myself just an hour ago. Is this real? Is he ever going to want to see me again after this week is finished? Could we actually build something like a relationship off the back of this mad adventure?

Luckily, Max interrupts me. “Now, what do you say we get dessert to go?”

---

Max practically drags me to the cab, and the second we’re in the backseat, he pulls me hard against him in a smoldering kiss. God, he’s already hard for me, and I can’t help rocking against him, kissing wildly all the way back to the hotel. The elevator ride up to our room passes in a blur, and then—thank God—he’s slamming the door shut behind us and pushing me up against it.

We’re finally alone.

Max tugs down the straps of my dress to cup my breasts, and groans, his mouth leaving mine to mark a hot trail down the side of my neck. His thumbs brush over my nipples, and I whimper.

“Hallie,” Max mutters against my skin. Every movement of his lips sends sparks shooting through me. “You drive me crazy. Can’t stop thinking about you. And this.” He pinches my nipples, making me moan. “And this.” His hands drop to slide the dress the rest of the way up my thighs. His fingers trace the hem of my panties.

“If I can make a suggestion?” I say breathlessly. “Less thinking and more doing.”

“Fuck yes.”

We kiss again, so hard and hot my head is spinning. I ease my hands down his firm chest to the button of his pants. He shifts to give me better access as I wrench at that and then the zipper. In a matter of seconds, I’ve palmed his cock. “Fucking yes,” he breaths, gripping my hips, Urging me closer. I gasp as the hard length of him rubs against my clit.

“These need to go,” Max says, hooking his fingers around the narrow band of my panties.

“Rip them right off,” I murmur. “I’ve got more where they came from.”

The heat in his eyes goes from sizzling to searing. With a yank, he snaps the fabric away from me, and then he’s sinking to his knees, a wicked look in his eyes.

He licks over me in a hot swoop, and I sink back against the door, closing my eyes against everything except the feel of his mouth on me, and fuck, his fingers thrusting up inside.

Who the fuck cares how real this is? I wouldn’t give it up for the world.