“Damn, I’m coming,” I muttered, dragging a hand through my hair.

A hotel attendant greeted me then pushed a room service cart through the door and into the living room. “Just sign here, please.” He thrust a slip of paper at me.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t recall ordering anything.” We’d stayed up most of the night talking and having sex, so my head was a little fuzzy this morning, but I didn’t recall phoning for room service.

“No, you didn’t.” He pointed to the paper. “It was ordered by a Miss Fiona Stone. All paid for.”

I signed the receipt and handed it back to him. “Thanks,” I mumbled and watched, confused, as he slipped out the door.

Emmy came padding out of the bedroom a moment later, dressed only in a tank top and a pair of my boxer briefs. I took a moment to just take her in. Slender legs, curvy hips, full br**sts, and hair tangled and loose around her shoulders. Mine.

“C’mere, baby.”

She crossed the room on bare feet and wrapped her arms around my waist, nestling in against my chest.

I pulled her close, relishing the feel of her small, soft body pressed against my firm one. “You stole my underwear,” I whispered into her hair.

“Sorry, did you want them back?” she said sweetly, that little southern twang in her voice just barely evident.

I tilted my head down and stole a look. “No, they look better on you.” My hands slid from her waist to her ass, cupping it in my palms and squeezing gently. I felt my girl shiver lightly. “You fill out the back nicely,” I murmured near her ear.

She giggled and it was the sweetest sound, light and carefree. “Yes, but you fill out the front in a way I never will.”

“I sure as f**k hope you never do. I don’t think I’d like you with a dick, baby.”

She laughed again. “What’s all this?” she asked, motioning to the service cart.

“Uh, breakfast, I suppose.”

“How thoughtful.” She kissed my mouth before stepping out of my arms. “I just want to grab my laptop and see if I can connect to the Wi-Fi before we eat.”

I nodded and watched her bend over to retrieve her laptop bag. Her ass looked good enough to f**k. She cleared her throat and my eyes darted up to hers.

“How about you pour me some coffee while I fire this up? There is coffee, right?”

“Uh . . .” I quickly scanned the cart and found a silver carafe of what I presumed was coffee. “Yeah.” I poured two mugs of coffee, added milk, and set them on the round dining table. I made myself busy while Emmy powered on her computer. I transferred the dishes, silverware, and helpings of the food to the table. I poured us each a glass of what appeared to be pineapple juice. “Is it working, babe?” I asked over my shoulder. I knew she was taking her new assistant job seriously. I found her work ethic sexy, though of course I wouldn’t have minded in the least if she treated this trip like a vacation and lay on the beach the entire week. She deserved a break after all the shit I’d put her through recently.

“Yep. I’ve got a signal. And it looks like Fiona sent an email with the details for the shoot tomorrow. It begins on the beach at nine a.m. There’s an attached page of grooming instructions.”

“Yeah? What’s it say?”

She chuckled under her breath. “Wow. There’s an astounding amount of detail on the way your pubic hair should be trimmed. Basically short . . . oh my goodness. Is this serious?” She let out a short laugh.

Honestly, it wasn’t that surprising. I often received specific instructions for shaving my face, chest, and abs. This was a little out of the ordinary but not that unexpected. It was a swimsuit shoot, after all.

“What else does it say?” I asked.

Her eyes had gone wide and she sat silently blinking at the screen. “Fiona’s left a note underneath the instructions.” Her voice was shaky.

“Read it to me.”

Emmy took a deep breath. “See you tomorrow, love. And P.S. I know these instructions won’t pose a hardship for you, considering you’ve always kept yourself nice and neat. Love, Fiona.”

Within seconds, I’d crossed the room and was guiding her away from the computer by the shoulders. “Ignore her. We both know that was a cheap attempt to get a rise out of you. My c**k is yours. Just yours. Okay?”

She nodded, her eyes locked on mine.

I leaned in and kissed her softly. “Sit down, baby. Enjoy your coffee.” I pushed the mug toward her and she lowered herself into the chair. “Eat up,” I urged, sitting down across from her. “We have the whole day to play before work begins tomorrow.” I wanted to get her mind off of Fiona’s bitchy message.

“What are we going to do?”

“Anything you want. Snorkeling, scuba-diving, sunning ourselves, napping, hiking, oh, and apparently we need to shave my balls at some point too.”

She giggled. “Ben!”

“What? I’m a rule follower, baby. And you’re my assistant now, so I think you should have to help. Supervise, at least.”

She shook her head, a pretty smile on her mouth. “Thank you for ordering breakfast. This is delicious.” She nibbled on an apricot pastry drizzled in honey. Part of me wanted to keep quiet, to let her assume it was me, but an annoying voice in the back of my head pointed out that Fiona was likely to mention something about sending us breakfast. I needed to prove to Emmy that I could be honest about the big stuff as well as the little things.