“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Dash asks. I turn.

“What?”

He looks amused, and gestures to my mouth. “Your lipstick’s smudged.”

13

Callie

The party goes almost until dawn. It turns out, once Zelda gets a few gin rickeys in her, she turns into a whole other person. A fast-talking, side-splitting party animal: Grandma After Dark, complete with grand piano karaoke, late night pizza, and an impromptu ballroom contest right there in the middle of the living room.

And the drinking games. Boy, were there drinking games. I must have consumed my body weight in cocktails, and Dash was no different. We drag ourselves upstairs and collapse in his bed around four in the morning, too exhausted—and drunk—to pick up where we left off in that boathouse.

I wake with a headache, dry mouth, and a Miami Dolphins T-shirt almost covering my unmentionables…

I lift my head, then drop it again with a groan. Big mistake. I take a moment to breathe, then try it again, slowly this time.

Dash is passed out beside me in the bed.

I pause, remembering the look in his eyes when he dropped to his knees. And what he did with his tongue…

Even my hangover can’t stop the smile spreading across my face. Damn, this man has moves.

I watch him sleeping. With the soft morning sunlight grazing his skin, he’s even more gorgeous than ever, and I’m alarmed to find a twist of affection warming me alongside all my lust.

I gulp. Breaking the rules for a sizzling hot hookup is one thing, but catching feelings? That’s a recipe for disaster.

This is Dash passed out beside me: Playboy extraordinaire. And sure, I’ve seen a new side to him these past couple of days. A surprisingly thoughtful, funny, caring side. But that doesn’t mean he’s still not exactly the womanizing bachelor he was back in New York. I mean, the man is paying me to be his fake girlfriend! And now that the mission is complete…

Well, I have no idea what he’s thinking. Lust aside, what happens in Palm Beach may well stay in Palm Beach.

Which means my feelings and flutterings might just be setting myself up for disaster.

I slide out of bed, careful not to wake him as I tiptoe across the room, open the door, and head quietly back to my room, before—

“Good morning, Callie.”

I yelp. It’s Zelda, looking surprisingly fresh in her morning workout gear. Especially considering just a couple of hours ago, she was belting out a truly epic rendition of “Bohemian Rhapsody” on top of the dining room table.

“Hi!” I blurt, cheeks burning. Creeping out of Dash’s room dressed only in an oversized T-shirt? Great going, Callie. “Good morning, it is, isn’t it? So nice and sunny. I was just, umm, borrowing… Something from Dash.”

Zelda’s lips quirk. “Not pants, I take it?”

Ack. I want to disappear, but before I can put my foot in my mouth again, Zelda smiles.

“We really ought to get you your own robe, if you’re going to be in a state of undress so often. Next time, perhaps. Breakfast is on the terrace,” she adds. “Claude makes a Bloody Mary that works wonders for a hangover.”