“I didn’t promise you anything. I said I’d stay until the thing with Sal was over. I didn’t think the invitation extended longer than that,” Ian said, his head getting fuzzy with Rémy’s magnetic appeal. Was he putting out pheromones? Ian smelled those lemons again and felt like a dog in heat.
“It extends for as long as it takes for us to get to know one another and see if we suit,” Rémy said forcefully.
“It extends until I finish painting two of the houses in Brooklyn. By that time, the wills will be probated, and I can sell the house. I can’t think beyond that right now.” Ian told the absolute truth. When Rémy was close, thinking became increasingly difficult. Marie Claire came in and filled the coffee carafe and the pitcher of juice.
“That’s not what I want, but I’ll take what I can get. You won’t see anyone else?” Rémy growled.