Waking Up in Vegas(82)

“Say it again,” I implored softly.

“What? That I’m sorry?” Her smile widened, fully aware of what I really wanted to hear. She traced her fingertips across my cheek, met my eyes and amended, “I’m completely head-over-heels in love with you, Tack Morgan.”

“So you’re not taking the job in Phoenix?” I held my breath, worried that all I’d accomplished was getting her to stay an extra week—in this business, a contract was a contract.

“I called them this morning and told them to find someone else.”

“And what about the termites in your condo? Was that part of your escape plan, too?”

Jen shook her head. “No, all that was real. I guess fate had designs for us, as well. But now that Angus has worn out our welcome with your mother, he and I need a place to stay. I was hoping some randy hotshot DJ might be looking for a couple of roommates.”

“Hey, where is Angus?”

“I dropped him off at home. Lita went nuts. What happened to the lamp, by the way?” Jen laughed.

Not your house. Home. Our home. Me and Jen together at last.

I dragged a hand through my hair. “Yeah, well, my night wasn’t any better than yours. Besides, I never really liked that lamp.”

Jen stepped into the vee of my open knees, wrapping her arms behind my neck. “Good thing we have at least a dozen in the garage to replace it with.” She leaned in until she was a breath away.

“Good thing,” I murmured between brushes of my lips over hers. Then our mouths were too busy to say anything at all.