Page 92 of Love In Hiding

London didn’t.

She kept her eyes on him, unreadable but intense like she heard everything he wasn’t saying.

When dessert came, she leaned close enough that no one else could hear and murmured, “Stop being so damn perfect. You’re making this torture.”

He grinned without meaning to. “Right back at you. I’m the outsider here, not you.”

“No one here is thinking that. Trust me.” She turned her head as if she was stretching it and no one could read her lips. “My mother might figure it out.”

“Sounds like a you problem,” he said, grinning.

The frown on her face didn’t make him feel any better though.

Just one more thing they’d have to talk about.

26

SLAP LABELS ON IT

“Hi, Mom,” London said on Saturday morning. Midmorning, thankfully.

They’d landed at ten last night, it being close to eleven by the time they got to her apartment.

Spencer was annoyed she didn’t go home with him. She knew it. But she’d head over there soon.

“Are you recovered from your trip?”

“I am now that I spent the night in my bed.”

Not that she’d complain about sleeping next to Spencer for two nights.

It’d been years since she’d slept in the same bed with a man. She wasn’t one who liked to cuddle and hoped to hell Spencer didn’t pull her close and hold on all night.

He hadn’t. He tucked her under his arm while they watched a bit of TV. Maybe ten minutes of it. She shifted away and he never yanked her back.

Never made a comment or acted like he cared one way or another.

She should have felt relieved, but she found herself slightly annoyed over it.

Why did he frustrate her as much as make her want to get closer?

“That’s great,” her mother said. “Your father and I liked Spencer a lot.”

“Okayyyyyy,” she said, dragging the last part of the word out. She wasn’t sure where this was going.

Which was wrong because deep down she kind of knew.

Her mother was no dummy and had been sending them sly comments.

But Paris had promised she hadn’t said a word, nor had their mother asked her twin.

“You two seemed to get along well. Paris seems it too.”

“Considering we have to work together, that’s a good thing.”

Her mother let out a loud sigh. “Just admit it.”

“Admit what?” she asked, tucking her legs under her hips on the couch. Paris walked in from the kitchen and sat in the chair, then rolled her eyes.