Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 104820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Watching the short movie clips in order, she could observe how he had grown up. First the teenager who’d melted hearts all over the world and then maturing into the chiseled cheekbones and sun-streaked hair of a man who’d grown only more fascinating with time.
It was overwhelming to see these career highlights, especially sitting beside the real man. But instead of feeling giddy at her unique position, Tessa felt the gap between their worlds grow even bigger. Arch was so normal here at his home, nothing about him suggesting he was any different from the handsome guy who served her cappuccino at the coffee shop. But the truth was that he was different. His life was camera crews and news scoops and red carpet premieres.
She had to remind herself not to get caught up, no matter what.
Arch was not a man she could fall for. Not unless she wanted her heart smashed to smithereens. She’d already been through that with Lewis. No way was she ever going to sign up for it again.
The montage of his career in the movies ended, and the camera cut back to Roxy asking Arch about his rehabilitation routine and caregiver. Tessa’s heart leaped into her mouth. Earlier, she’d heard him make it clear that she wouldn’t be filmed, but what if he’d spoken about her?
She stared at the screen, frozen, waiting for Arch to reply.
“I’ve got great help from the best available. I’m truly grateful. And it means I’ll be able to get back to work very soon.”
She looked at Arch and smiled, appreciating that he hadn’t let her become part of the narrative. It felt like he respected her wishes, and she liked that. Especially given that her husband never had.
And then, despite his leg, he reached across to the couch for the remote and switched off the TV. “Honestly, Tessa,” he said, his solemn expression a far cry from the outgoing and confident man she’d just watched, “I hate seeing myself on-screen. It makes me cringe.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made you watch it just because I was curious.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he replied. “I just thought you should know.”
As she nodded to make it clear that she understood, she finally saw that he’d finished his dinner, while she’d been so caught up in watching the interview she’d barely tasted her own. When she got up to clear his tray, he told her to sit down and finish.
“I ate too fast,” he said. “You’re a really good cook. I don’t know how you managed to make something that healthy so delicious. You could make a fortune as a personal chef to Hollywood stars. Everyone I work with is always watching their weight. And all of them—me included—hate feeling like we’re eating rabbit food.”
Tessa never knew what to say when someone complimented her. But she was pleased that he’d noticed she was good at something, even if it was just cooking healthy, tasty food. And he wasn’t wrong. The meal was good.
“Thank you,” she said. “I’m glad you’re enjoying my cooking.” And then, because she wasn’t used to being regarded in such a positive light—especially with Arch’s beautiful sea-blue eyes gazing into hers—she quickly changed the subject back to him. Most people were only too happy to talk about themselves, and she was happy to let them.
“Even though you don’t like watching yourself on-screen, I thought the interview went really well.”
He shrugged. “I got the right sound bites in and avoided saying anything I or the studio would regret. All in a day’s work.” Then he turned the spotlight back to her, though she’d yet to answer any of his previous questions. “How did you get started in the caregiving field?”
She couldn’t find a way out of answering no matter how much she racked her brain. “I sort of fell into it.”
Before Arch could ask her any more questions, since she’d finally finished her meal, she took their empty plates and headed for the kitchen. “Time to do the dishes.” She enjoyed clearing up after a meal, resetting the kitchen, getting it spic and span before she made the next thing. “Then I’ll bring out dessert.” It was fresh fruit with a little yogurt, both tasty and healthy.
But as she turned on the faucet, the sound of crutches against tile made her spin around. “What are you doing up?” she exclaimed. “You need to get back into the chair and keep your leg elevated.”
“Not a chance,” he said. “You cooked this delicious meal. The least I can do to say thank you is run some soapy water over a couple of plates. I’m the one in the family who washes the dishes, because I can handle delicate things without breaking them.”
He delivered this in his sexy, playful voice, and though she did her utmost to ignore any possible innuendo, she couldn’t stop imagining what it would be like to have those big, capable hands on her.