“I started as Harper Slade when I was twelve.”
“Twelve?” I spin to face her.
She laughs. “Yes,twelve. Why is all of this shocking to you?”
I shrug. “It’s young, that’s all. To have to deal with that whole shit show.”
She squints. “What shit show?”
“You know, show business. Everybody wanting something from you. All those assholes telling you what to do and how todress and walk and what magazines you need to be on the cover of.”
Her eyes widen. “How would you know about all that?”
I stiffen. “Just guessing.”
I didn’t mean to let that slip. I don’t like people to know about my past. It’s embarrassing. I was just a scrawny teenager at the time—a late bloomer. Thankfully I filled out since then. I look nothing like I did when I was in the spotlight. I don’t even remember the last time someone recognized me in public.
Cass knows because he did a thorough background check, but he keeps it to himself, which I appreciate.
But now she’s studying my face like she knows I’m not being straight with her. She’s perceptive.
I change the subject, helping her locate a proper pan for the eggs, then showing her how to crack them and scramble them with a whisk. She sets the heat on medium-low, melts a pat of butter in the pan, then pours in the eggs.
“It’s not actually that hard.” She grins.
I chuckle. “Nope, it’s not.”
I demonstrate how to use the spatula to push the eggs toward the center of the pan.
“OK, help me get the feel for it?” She slides between my body and the stove, her round ass brushing against my thighs, and my dick throbs inside my jeans.
Her red curls are tickling my arms, and the clean lilac scent of the shampoo she used is inviting. I know it’s a bad idea, but I let my hand slide over the curve of her hip as she takes the spatula in her hand. Then I wrap my fingers around her wrist to guide her in cooking the eggs. Her skin feels soft and warm under my touch, and she tips her head back against my body. She’s making me hard all over again.
Fuck.
What is it about this woman? I don’t normally have a tough time saying no. To anybody.
I move away to break the spell, but when she glances over her shoulder and smiles, it’s drawing me in all over again. She’s like a goddamned magnet. My mind flashes to what it might feel like to be between her legs, and I blink to snap myself out of it.
“They cook fast,” I remind her. “Keep your eye on ’em.”
“Actually, are they done?” She stirs them with the spatula as I take a peek.
“Yeah, they look great, and the veggies are done too. Turn off the stove and move everything off the burners.”
She nods, following my instructions as I grab us a couple of plates from the cupboard.
“What’s that?” She’s facing the large bay window overlooking the river, but I don’t see anything out of the ordinary.
“What?”
“I thought I saw something. Right outside the window.”
My muscles tense, goose bumps prickling over my skin as I draw my weapon. “Stay down,” I instruct her, and she crouches behind the kitchen island as I ease toward the window. But when I reach it, there’s no one there. I have her wait in a safe location as I secure the perimeter, checking for footprints or any other sign of trespassing, but there’s nothing. No sign anyone’s been here.
Even so, I don’t like it. Harper was wound up yesterday, and the noise from the floorboard scared her. But this is the first time she’s indicated that something she saw spooked her. I don’t take that lightly.
“Everything’s secure,” I tell her as I step back inside, and she sighs with relief.
