4
I can survive this. As long as I don’t think about his perfect abs, or his tight ass, or his lips… Yeah, no more thinking about Mr. Sexy-as-Hell.
Kat threw on a pair of jeans and a warm cable-knit sweater and stared at herself in the mirror. They were eating at home, so she hoped jeans would be okay. What if there were more than three courses? What if there were half a dozen different spoons on the table? How would she know which ones to use?
There really ought to be a list of basic rules or a manual or something. Ten ways to please your British Bad Boy in bed and impress his mother at dinner…
Kat leaned toward her reflection in the full-length mirror, feeling completely stupid as she put on mascara and lip gloss. It was okay to want to look nice, right? That was what she wanted. It
