“I think you must’ve been raised in a palace on Cloud Unicorn because you are the most ridiculous thing.” But he said the words fondly. He said them so fondly, with such tenderness in his eyes, that she felt slightly faint for a moment. She felt like squirming under that gentle smile, like covering her heated face with both hands or collapsing at his feet or . . . or . . .

That was definitely enough teasing for one day. She cleared her throat and got back to business. “Don’t forget the extra work is because I broke your wrist. And anyway, I researched, and I know you actually pay higher than average.”

“I pay a living wage, Eve. The real one, not the government bullshit.”

“Do you pay yourself a living wage?”

“Quiet, baggage.” He reached over and pushed at her shoulder—just the quickest, lightest touch, one that barely connected, as if he was afraid she might topple off the bed and knock herself out on the side table. Or maybe he touched her so lightly because he felt the same thing she did: the electric shiver down her spine, a silver streak of heat, every time his skin brushed hers.

Maybe.

“And what do you mean you researched?” he snorted. “What, you had no point of reference?”

Eve shrugged. “You’ve read my CV.”

“You mean the document you emailed me that included two weeks spent as a fire-eater at a resort hotel? I have to say, Sunshine, I assumed you were taking the piss with that.”

Her mind stuttered and restarted over sunshine. Had he . . . just said that word? Or rather, had he just said it at her? As in . . . she . . . was the sunshine?

“Please tell me you were taking the piss,” he went on. “I am begging you. Because if you weren’t, I now have to come to terms with the fact that you spent a month as an abseiling instructor in Wales.”

This was the part where she passionately denied her checkered past as an abseiling instructor, or threw caution to the wind and boldly admitted to it. But her whole mind, possibly her entire nervous system, was still occupied with that little sunshine slip.

I have to say, Sunshine . . .

Perhaps she’d misheard him. Perhaps he’d developed a stutter or he was so high on sugar he’d started to slur.

Except, after the beat of her silence, he gave a wry smile. “You seem distracted.”

“Mmm,” she managed.

“I can hear you overthinking.”

“Well,” she blurted, “you can’t blame me.”

“Because of the sunshine thing.” He didn’t make it a question, but she answered anyway.

“Yes indeed.”

“I was hoping you hadn’t noticed.”

“Silly of you.”

“Yes. I have come to realize you notice everything.” He looked personally inconvenienced by that fact. “I know you think you aren’t clever, Eve. You are.”

“Are you trying to distract me from the sunshine comment?” she asked hoarsely. Because it was sort of working. He gave a lovely compliment, did Jacob. The part where it seemed like pulling teeth for him made it extra genuine.