She hadn’t worked on the screenplay she was supposed to be writing. Instead of the cute romantic comedy that was her project in progress, she’d written some kind of paranormal suspense story—one with so much sex, it would be suitable only for the adult entertainment industry. She heard the shower shut off and sighed. Ivar was going to be a problem. Or more accurately, her inability to say no to him was going to be a problem. Show me how much you want me, she’d told him. She’d expected hard and fast and crazed. That wasn’t what he’d given her. No, Ivar had made love to her and stolen her brain cells with every soft caress. Why else had she allowed him to hang around and protect her the last three days? Not because of any ongoing threat, that was for sure. That also explained why she’d spent hours writing vampire porn with a hero who bore more than a passing resemblance to Ivar and had cast herself as his intrepid and highly sexed heroine.
