The Berkeley Method by J. S. Taylor Read Free Book Online Page A

isn’t important to me.”
    “You want my heart?” He looks inexplicably pained by this idea.
    I nod. “It’s more valuable than your money.”
    “You might be wrong about that, Isabella.”
    I stare into his cool green eyes.
    “I’m not,” I say firmly. “I know I’m not.”
    He sighs. “You do something to me which no one has ever done,” he says. “I don’t know if it’s enough to change me. But for you, Isabella, I will try. And please understand how special you must be to me to hear those words.”
    I lean forward and kiss his mouth gently. “I do,” I say, “I do understand.”
    “I think you might find things even more difficult on set,” he adds.
    “Why is that?” I ask warily.
    “For one thing, we can’t be open about our relationship,” he says. “Since I’m still technically married to Madison, it would be unprofessional.”
    Madison. His wife. Ouch.
    “And for another, I tend to become engrossed in my work.”
    Oh . I consider this. Perhaps I’ll be able to entice him away.
    “You told me that you were making plans to officially separate from Madison,” I remind him.
    “Yes,” he nods. “I am. But it can’t happen overnight. That would be devastating to Madison’s public image.”
    “Ok,” I concede. “We’ll see how things go.”
    James nods and kisses my mouth.
    “Yes, we will,” he agrees. “But for now, I’m going to enjoy every moment of having you back.” He scoops me up in his arms and plants a lingering kiss on my mouth. “I hope you’re ready for this, Isabella,” he says with a grin, “because you’re not going to be getting much sleep tonight.”
     

Chapter 8
     
    I wake in the dawn light, knowing it’s still early. Although I fell asleep wrapped tight in James arms, he’s no longer in the bed.
    Hmmm. I feel as though there is still some battle to be won here. Will I ever wake up with this man?
    A glance at the end of the bed reveals my clothing and underwear has been laundered and laid out fresh. Although by whom, I’m unsure. I assume James must have some laundry service which picks up and delivers in the early hours.
    Rising quietly, I slip into the en-suite shower and let the warm water wash away the residue of last night.
    I towel myself dry and then wrap myself in one of his designer sheets before padding softly out into the main apartment.
    He’s working away on a laptop and looks up apologetically as I enter. “It’s still business hours in parts of America,” he explains.
    Last night, he was wearing dark jeans, a T-shirt, and a suit jacket. Now he’s in slightly more casual wear – a T-shirt emblazoned with The Who and lighter designer jeans. His feet are clad in worn-in Converse. Combined with his ruffled brown hair, and he looks like a sexy musician.
    Mmmmm.
    I walk over to where he’s sitting and slide onto his lap. “I remember this desk,” I murmur, stroking the walnut wood which I was pressed against last night.
    “Yes,” he says, moving an arm to hold me and reaching up to take my chin. “I plan on making you quite familiar with it.”
    I break the gaze and slip off his lap. I’m uncertain, suddenly, as to what our relationship is about.
    James follows my movements as I walk across the apartment.
    “I ordered some croissants for breakfast,” he says. “They’re freshly baked this morning. Would you like one?”
    “Sure.” My eyes rest on a package of pastries on the kitchen countertop. The paper bag is embossed with a beautiful gold motif. I suppress a little smile. An artisan bakery. How could I expect less?
    I pull out a golden croissant and shred away a little portion to nibble on. Last night I was overcome with my feelings for this man. Now I feel in limbo. Uncertain.
    As if sensing my mood, James strides across the apartment and puts his arms around me.
    “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you asked me last night,” he says, “and I want you to know how much you mean to me.”
    Ok. I wonder where this