Teagan rubbed her bleary eyes and rolled her head on the pillow. She was in Bryson Anton’s bedroom. In his bed. But he wasn’t there, and his side of the bed hadn’t been disturbed. She didn’t know whether to applaud his old-fashioned gentlemanly conduct or curse him for it. She sighed and threw the covers off her before shuffling to the open bedroom door.
Bryson glanced up from the couch behind the coffee table, a stack of papers in his hand and more spread out across the wooden surface.
She stretched her arms above her head as she padded across the family room in her dress socks. She had no idea where her shoes and purse were. “Not to bruise your ego, but after you took me to bed, I don’t remember anything. Maybe we should have a redo so you can refresh my memory.”
He gave her the side-eye. “Trust me. If I took you to bed, you’d remember.”
She grinned. “I have a feeling you’re right.”
He rolled his eyes. “You passed out in my arms, and I generously allowed you to use my bedroom to sleep it off. You’re a lightweight when it comes to alcohol.”
“Won’t argue that.” She yawned and gestured toward the cup on the table beside him. “I don’t suppose that’s coffee?”
In reply, he held the cup out to her.
She took a huge gulp before handing it back to him. “I think I’m half in love with you.”
“That’s the tequila talking. You’re still drunk.”
“Can’t be. Had to have slept it off by now. How long was I out?”
He glanced at his watch. “Seventeen minutes.”
“Oh. Then I’m definitely still drunk. More please.”
He handed her the mug without looking up.
She shifted around to see what he was doing, then sat beside him, her thigh pressed to his.
“Boundaries, Teagan.” He glanced pointedly at their legs, plastered together.
She sighed and moved over, just enough so they weren’t touching. “You’re either married, have a girlfriend, or we play for the same team, because nothing I’m trying is working.”
“Never married. My girlfriend dumped me months ago because hanging with a guy with a limp cramped her style. And, trust me, you and I are definitely not playing for the same team.”
“What is it then? I haven’t struck out this many times since high school softball.”
“Maybe you’re not my type.”
“Pfft. Have youseenme? These legs go all the way up.”
He arched a brow. “We need to work on this low self-esteem of yours.”
She laughed and shuffled through some of the papers he’d spread out in front of him. When she realized what he was looking at, hope flared in her chest. “You’re reading my file?”
He shrugged. “I was bored. I had seventeen minutes to kill.”
“Does this mean you’re going to help me?”
“My history of helping people isn’t exactly stellar. I’m only committing to looking through your research to offer suggestions that you can take or leave. Maybe I can put a different spin on it so you can think in new directions. I wouldn’t get excited, if I were you. Like I said, I don’t have a great track record. This ruined hip is because I messed up a pit maneuver a rookie could have performed in his sleep. I managed to knockthe killer’s vehicle into a ditch, but knocked myself silly in the process. Before I could even scramble for my gun, I’d been shot, shoved out the door, and the killer was taking off in my car with a hostage. The only reason the hostage survived is because one of my coworkers was able to rescue her after I nearly got her killed.”
“I have a feeling there’s way more to it than that.” She started to pat his leg, then jerked her hand back at his reproachful look. “Have I mentioned that I’m a touchy-feely sort of person? I’ll try to behave.” She bit her lip. “You’re still going to help me, right?”
He blew out a breath. “I thought you wereactingearlier, that you were overcompensating.”
“Sorry to disappoint. This is the real me.”
“I didn’t say I was disappointed.”
