“Okay, you’re recruited.” She giggles and my gut clenches.

We dig in, dipping our rollers in the tray of paint, then smoothing it over the walls. “Why are you painting and not writing?”

She scrunches up her nose and turns the music back on, the volume low. “Because I got stuck. The characters are pissing me off, and Emily isn’t around to talk.”

“Who’s Emily?” I reload my roller.

“She’s an author and a good friend of mine. We usually brainstorm together, but she had to go to some family thing today, so I didn’t have anyone to talk it out with. Swimming didn’t help.” She sighs and drops her roller to her side, tilts her head, and stares blankly at the wall, as if in deep thought. Then she turns to me and, as calm as can be, raises her roller and coats my left arm in paint.

“Did you just paint me?” I ask with a raised brow.

She nods and grins, then starts singing with the song and shaking her hips while painting her wall.

She’s adorable. “I’m going to get you back for that.”

“I figured.” She shrugs as if it’s of no consequence.

“So, tell me about your characters. I’m no Emily, but maybe I can help.”

She shoots me a surprised glance and bites her lip in concentration. “Well, they’re in the middle of a fight right now.”

“What are they fighting over?”

“Another woman.” She rolls her eyes and shakes her head, as though she’s gossiping about real people. “It’s ridiculous. He’s not cheating on her. He’s completely gone over her, and she knows that, but she has so much baggage from her past that it’s difficult for her to trust.” Lo picks up more paint on her roller and turns back to the wall.

“Who is the other woman?”

“His ex-wife.” She grimaces. “The ex has photos and videos of her having sex with the hero. Unbeknownst to the heroine, those were all taken years and years ago when they were still married, but the bitch is making it look like it’s all happened recently.”

“She’s a gem,” I comment lightly.

“Oh, I hate her. Her name is Misty.” Lo throws her head back and laughs. “If the real Misty ever reads this book, she will claw my eyes out.”

“She’ll have to get through me first,” I mutter calmly, watching Lo’s beautiful face as she talks about her work. Her eyes are shining and her cheeks are glowing. She’s excited about her work.

“Anyway, I haven’t figured out how the hero is going to convince the heroine that the ex is just being a vindictive bitch.” Lo begins to sway to the music again, and I just can’t keep my hands off her for one more second.

I lower my roller to the pan and stalk over to her, wrap my arms around her middle from behind, and bury my nose in her neck, hugging her close. Her body tenses and her hand stills, the roller braced on the wall. “You smell fantastic.”

She sighs and leans into me, tilts her head back to rest on my shoulder, just as a slow song begins on the stereo. I begin to move slowly, swaying side to side, enjoying the feel of her firm body in my arms. She lays her free hand on my arm and moves with me.

I inhale her sweet scent and drag my nose down the slope of her neck before pressing my lips to the soft skin where her neck and shoulder meet. My hands begin to roam across her tight belly.

“Your stomach is so firm. I don’t think I’ve ever known a woman with washboard abs before,” I murmur into her ear. I want to see her abs.

She chuckles lazily. “It’s the swimming. Great for your core.”

“I might have to take it up.”

“Nothing wrong with your abs,” she mutters.

I smile against her neck. Yeah, I know she appreciated the show she got in my driveway yesterday. Remembering the way her eyes glassed over as they made their way down my chest and stomach makes my dick twitch against her firm ass.

Just as the song reaches the bridge, her body tenses and she pulls out of my arms, her eyes wide, and drops her roller in the pan, splashing paint onto the drop cloth.

“That’s it!” she exclaims, and runs from the room toward the office.

I frown after her and stare around the room, wondering what in the bloody hell I’m missing, then follow her down the hall. When I reach the doorway to her work space, she’s already sitting in the desk chair, her feet pulled up under her, and she’s typing furiously on her computer, her lips clamped between her teeth and a crease on her eyebrow as she concentrates.

I guess she figured it out.

I chuckle and return to the family room and finish the first coat of paint, then go back out to my car and unload the groceries I brought with me. I’ll make her dinner while she works her ass off.

It still stuns me that she’s the author of some of the most well-loved novels in the world. Her books are a sensation. Millions are in print, and when I dug deeper, using Google and Facebook to find out more after being with her last week, I learned that not only has she sold the movie rights, but the film is moving forward. The movie company is currently casting the characters, and millions of women have nothing better to do than hang out on social media discussing who should play whom.

It’s amazing.

It seems that Lo, or Peyton Adams, is also something of an enigma. She won’t release publicity photos and won’t give live interviews, which has fans and industry people alike in an uproar.

I pray to God she has a good entertainment lawyer.