Page 58 of Mr. Romantic (Mister 2)

“It only takes once,” she mumbles.

“I can go get you a morning-after pill.”

Her head comes up from my shoulder and I get the most disgusted look from a post-coital girl. Ever. “What?” I laugh.

“I don’t need an abortion pill, Nolan.”

Right. Pastor’s daughter. I put my hands up and shrug. “Fine. It’s your call.”

She gets up off my lap with a sigh and stands underneath the water, reaching for the soap.

I get up and take it from her, then place the bar against her breasts and start rubbing her in small circles. “I’m sorry,” I say as the lather begins to build. “I just got caught up in the moment.”

“It’s my fault, so never mind.”

“Well, lack of condom buzzkill aside”—I lean down into her ear and whisper—“that was fun. Did you like it better this time?”

“Yes.” She hesitates, like she’s not sure if she wants to be mad at me or not, then gives in and smiles. “That felt amazing.”

I wash Ivy’s arms and belly and she squeezes some shampoo onto her the top of her head and lathers up her hair. “My turn now, right?” she asks.

I play dumb. “Turn for what? I got you off.”

“Not that, Nolan. You know what I want.”

“Why do you want to know what happened that night? It’s history. It doesn’t even matter anymore.”

“It matters to me. I mean I guess you’re just using me for a good time this weekend, so what I feel doesn’t matter to you. But your part in what happened that night matters to me.”

“Who said anything about using you?” I say, getting pissed off. And just what the fuck does she mean by ‘your part in what happened that night’? “If I didn’t like you, Ivy, you would not be at my private residence in Del Mar. Believe me, I’ve got plenty of places to take a one-night stand. Besides, this is our second day together, so it’s past one-night stand territory.”

“Hmmm.”

“Hmmm what?” I ask. “What are you thinking so hard about?” But before I can get an answer out of her she ducks under the shower again and I have to wait until her hair is rinsed before I can repeat my question.

“I want you to draw me. Like you said. I want to see a drawing.”

“Because you think I’m lying.”

“I just want to see,” Ivy says, going for the conditioner and massaging it into her long hair that is more brown than blonde now that it’s wet. “Can you do it?”

“Yeah. But why should I? What do I have to prove to you?”

“Nothing, I guess. But I’m going home right now if you don’t.”

“Is this all part of your rules of war, Ivy Rockwell? The fine art of negotiation?”

“Sure,” she says, ducking under the water again to rinse the conditioner. I can’t stop watching her. Her breasts are lifted up because her hands are above her head. And her nipples are tight peaks that call to my mouth. “If we’re going to play this through to the end we might as well negotiate something.”

“Instead of your job?”

“What job, Nolan?” She spits out the water dripping down her face, steps out of the stream, and wipes her eyes. “What job? You were never going hire me, were you? You were planning on sending me away before I even stepped out of that car back at the resort yesterday morning. The reason I’m still here is a mystery to me. I have no idea what you’re doing. But whatever it is, you’re good at it, Nolan. You’re good at getting what you want. Me, not so much.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Life isn’t fair, remember?”

“Why are you so pissed off?”