She only has one rule...
[WATTYS SHORTLIST 2022]
A buttoned up bookworm agrees to a fake relationship with a surprisingly literate male model in order to save his career. She only has one condition: No kissing allowed.
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At age 27, Cora Glass ha...
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Jamie had lied again.
He hadn't meant to. He wasn't quite sure why he hadn't told the truth. Such a ridiculous thing to lie about. Cora had asked him if he knew how much time they had left on this island, and he'd said no. He'd looked straight into the little lights reflected in her eyes and said he wasn't keeping track.
The truth? One week. Seven days and six nights.
Jamie had double-checked his mental tally with Cameron earlier today, making small talk while the camera operator changed a battery. Of course, Cameron had no idea that Jamie's question came from anything more than idle curiosity. None of the crew would guess.
For the past three weeks, he and Cora had followed an unspoken agreement to keep their true relationship off-screen, waiting until the cameras left for the evening before falling back into the easy intimacy that had taken hold between them. During the daylight, Jamie might put an arm around her shoulders as they lounged in their hammock, or Cora might hook his little finger with her own as they strolled along the cliffs above their beach. But nothing further. No kisses. No caresses. No talk of what went on after the sun set and the cameras faded to black.
Maybe it was this dichotomy that had proven Jamie's undoing. The constant back and forth like the pulsing of the tides. The person she pretended to be by day wouldn't have held his interest very long, but that was only her protective outer surface. By night, he met the real Cora, uncensored. Beautiful and sensual and free.
It left him burning all day long. Counting down the hours. Then drenching himself in her company all night. But never quite able to satiate himself. Never quite enough to last the grueling hours of daylight before the cameras left again.
Perhaps that explained how he'd ended up here with six nights to go, with a hollowness in his chest that never left him. Day in and day out, she dug a new hole in his core, like the moats children build for their sandcastles, letting the seawater well up inside. Until by twilight, he could barely stand it, and the salt burned with a sharp intensity that made him clench his teeth.
That must be it, he thought. Cora had warned him from the start. I don't want to fall in love with you by accident. She had whispered those words in the darkness, the first night she spent in his bed. He hadn't known whether to be insulted or to laugh, but she'd been serious. There's a hormone, she had warned.
Oxytocin, he'd supplied in his most bombastic voice, his best impression of an Oxford don. Oft-referred to as the love hormone. The pupil, so eager to impress his stern schoolmistress. He could still taste the bitter tang of her surprise. You know about oxytocin? She had pricked his pride with her dismissal, so he'd dismissed her in return. Ignored the wisdom of her warning and plowed full steam ahead.
That conversation took place three weeks ago, and he'd been swimming in oxytocin ever since.
Six nights left now. Perhaps Cora was better off not knowing. A gentlemanly lie, Jamie reassured himself. Sparing her the unpleasantness of foreknowledge.
