The sex knocked the life out of both of them. All that heat and friction. He was happy Paul didn’t expect him tomorrow because there was no way in hell he was getting up early.

She lifted her leg higher against his until every part of her touched a part of him. “You know, there’s a secondary benefit to us having sex.”

“I’m pretty happy about the main benefit,” he said.

“You don’t have to sleep on the sofa bed.”

That sounded promising. A little like progress, actually.

He lifted his head and stared down at her. “Are you inviting me into your . . . well, technically my . . . bed from now on?”

The second he said the words he wondered if he’d gone too far. Presumed too much.

She kept her eyes closed and her hand over his heart. “You’ve been very good.”

A part of him loved her chattiness after sex. Another part of him wanted a nap. “Then my plan worked.”

“This was all about getting a better mattress for you, wasn’t it?”

She rarely showed this side of her—playful and uninhibited—and he was a fan. “Of course.”

“You evil genius.”

“Give me fifteen minutes and I’ll prove what a genius I am.” When she groaned, he figured that was one step too far. “Too much?”

“I’m willing to ignore the cheesiness.”

“No one has ever accused me of that before.” He tried to imagine what the people he did business deals with would think of that.

“You didn’t know me before.”

“I’m much luckier now.” The words slipped out but he meant them.

She smiled with her eyes closed. “Yeah, you are.”

Chapter 17

Connor didn’t get up the next morning until after nine. He hadn’t slept that late in years but Maddie had worn him out. Two more rounds, including one this morning, and he needed more than coffee to get him moving. The eggs helped. So did the fresh air.

He stood about twenty feet from the front of his cabin, in a small clearing near a clump of trees. He’d retrieved some of the dry wood from the shed at the back of the property and started cutting. It had been years since he’d wielded an ax. When he was growing up, his parents had a small place on a lake in Maryland. His father’s workaholic tendencies had relaxed there. He sat outside and tutored his kids on the fine art of fishing and firewood collection.

The years passed and the memory faded. Now it made Connor smile.

“How long are you staying? On Whitaker, I mean.”

At the sound of Maddie’s still sleepy voice, he looked up. She sat on the bottom step leading up to the porch. She’d thrown on his sweatshirt, which looked like a tent on her. Her tablet rested on her lap, meaning a call could interrupt them any minute.