Still no answer.
Looking to the right, I saw that his Jeep was parkedin the driveway, so he should be home. Besides, I might not have had one singleconversation with Sayer in five years, but I knew the man well enough to knowhe would never accidentally leave his front door open.
The man was paranoid.
Like me.
It was what the job had done to us, made us alwayslook over our shoulder and assume everyone we met had ulterior motives.
I took a tentative step inside. “Sayer?” I called out.Still no answer.
Okay, so I had two options. I could assume he was justfine and leave the towels on the bench next to the door. I could leave beforehe noticed me and avoid talking to him altogether.
Or I could pretend to be concerned about his well-beingand take a look around. Discreetly, of course.
And noninvasively—lest he try to get me fired.
I went with option two.
Carrying the towels sandwiched between my hands, Istepped all the way inside Sayer’s rental cabin and kicked the door quietlyclosed behind me. I didn’t find any of his belongings in the front room savefor two pairs of discarded shoes—a worn pair of running shoes and a newer,nicer pair of dress shoes. There was also a book on the coffee table by anauthor I didn’t recognize. It looked like nonfiction.
So Sayer was boring now. Interesting.
Tiptoeing into the kitchen, I found more of the same—interestingif I were doing a character study on how Sayer had changed over the last fiveyears, but useless for investigational purposes. There was a six pack of localbeer on the counter and English muffins. A look in the fridge revealed eggs,bacon, stuff for sandwiches, a marinating piece of meat, a Caesar salad kit anda flat of bottled water.
Huh.
I had never seen Sayer so much as make a peanut butterand jelly sandwich before. When he lived with Gus, he let their housekeepermake all of his food and later, when he’d moved out on his own, he only ate outor bought meals that could be microwaved.
Lack of culinary skills was one of his more tragictraits in my opinion. He’d never been domesticated, never had someone to makehim meals or show him how to make his own. Once we became an official couple,I’d cooked for him as often as possible to remedy that, but he had never onceshown interest in learning how to do it himself.
There was a laptop on the table that caught myattention. Looking around, I stepped closer to it. It was closed and didn’tlook like it was on. I nibbled my bottom lip and weighed the consequences ofsnooping. I would have to turn it on probably and that would take time. And Ididn’t know what I was looking for exactly. I doubted he kept files labeledSayer’s Devious Plansopen and ready formy perusal.
A sound at the back of the cabin drew my attention andI decided to wait for a better opportunity to explore his computer. He wouldhave to go into work, wouldn’t he? And I had master keys to all of the cabins.
I would break in later and find all the secrets hethought he could keep from me.
Skipping the second bedroom for now, I headed straightfor the master suite. I heard movement, but couldn’t see anybody from thehallway.
“Sayer?” I called out in a half-hearted effort to gethim to finally answer me. When he still didn’t, I walked in and prepared toface him.
Only nothing could have prepared me for what I found.
Which was Sayer buck naked.
Oh my God.
The door to the bathroom was wide open. I turned thecorner to set the towels on the edge of the king size bed and caught sight ofhim in all his nude, muscular, holy-hotness glory through the mirror over thedresser. It provided a perfect view of the bathroom and the opaque glass thatwalled the shower did nothing to give the man privacy.
His head was bent under the shower and he had one armbraced against the wall while he ran the other through his hair, rinsingshampoo out. My mouth watered and I had to swallow quickly to keep fromdrooling.
I had his profile, a straight side view of hisrippling back, those ridiculously toned arms and sides that tapered to a narrowwaist, corded with muscle. And then there was the lower half.
I must have made a sound because his head snapped up andhis gaze targeted me.Busted.
“What are you doing?” he demanded with such force itcaused me to back up a step.
“I, uh, I brought you towels.” I lifted them as proof.“I didn’t mean to… Uh, I called your name, but you didn’t answer so I thought Iwould… Here are your towels.”
