Mentally shutting the door on his grief, he made up the bunk, ignoring the tug of his stitches as he reachedfor the far corners. The loft was suited to Tara’s size and would be warmer than the main level. Not as warm as if they shared a mattress, but that was off the table. Firmly.
He’d just finished when Tara emerged from the bathroom, still fully dressed, but with her hair piled on top of her head in a messy knot, her face shiny and devoid of any makeup. His stomach tripped. She was stunning. Maybeit wasn’t the makeup and the clothes that made her so untouchably perfect. Maybe it was all her. The grace in each step, the way she carried herself with her shoulders back and her chin high, her flawless face.
She glanced at the loft. “I could’ve helped.”
He shrugged, forcing himself not to stare. “It was easy for me. I can reach all the way to the back.” Holding his arms wide, he showedher that he could almost touch both walls of the camper. “Gorilla arms.”
She smiled. “Must be nice.”
“If you want the best apples in the tree, I’m your guy.”
Her laughter made the dim room sparkle.
Stop it, dumbass. She’s not for you. He cleared his throat. “You want to borrow some clothes?” Her dress couldn’t be very comfortable to sleep in, and it wouldn’t keep her warm.
She smiled.“That would be great. Thanks.”
A few minutes later, she was drowning in his thick sweatpants with the legs rolled into a fat ring at her ankles. The long-sleeved race T-shirt he’d found crammed into a drawer had received similar treatment. She looked like a little girl who’d snuck into her dad’s closet. Except, she was very much a woman. And there was something about knowing that her skin wasin such close contact with his clothing that warmed his blood.
“What do you think?” She twirled with her arms out, a gleam of humor in her eyes. “A perfect fit, no?”
He grinned. “Definitely perfect.” If he had his way, she’d always look like this. Relaxed, approachable, a little disheveled.
With the ease of an acrobat, she hoisted herself into the bunk. “Thank you.”
He nodded. Luckily,he was too tall to join her in there even if she’d asked.
“For everything,” she said. “I hope I’m not screwing up your weekend plans.”
“This isn’t your fault.”
She sat up fully, her shiny hair brushing the ceiling. “It kind of is. I decided to go after Mars. And I roped you into it.”
Good God. He crossed his arms. “Still not your fault. And you didn’tropeme into anything. If I hadn’twanted to help, I would’ve said so.”
“All right.” She held up her hands. “I believe you.”
“Excellent. Now get some sleep.”
“You too,” she said, mocking the command in his voice.
Fat chance of that.
The trees rustled in the wind, their barren branches restless. Much like Tara. She lay on her side under a mound of blankets, curled up in the cozy, oversized clothes that smelled likeJeff. Or, more likely, his fabric softener. Either way, she couldn’t get enough.
Through the semi-sheer linen that covered the tiny window at her side, a yellow streetlamp cast shadows into the forest beyond the edge of the campground.
They were parked close to the Interstate, a stone’s throw from a major shopping center and neighborhoods full of large homes, but it was so much quieter thanher condo in Arlington. She missed the din and busyness of the city. Out here her thoughts were too loud, her fears too easily fed, the walls too thin.
At home, she had eleven floors and solid walls for protection between her and the world outside. Not to mention a gated garage and outer doors that required a key card for entry.
And yet, the men who were after her had defeated all that witha simple fire alarm, hadn’t they?
No one knew she was here except Jeff. And he’d managed to protect her so far. Galling as it was that she needed a bodyguard, she couldn’t be more thankful for his presence on the other side of the RV.
If only he were closer.
Gahhh. So much for not being interested. With a huff, she rolled over and faced the tiny kitchen and sitting area, which the nighthad painted in shades of gray. Jeff had left his bedroom door open, and the wan light trickling into his room through cheap curtains outlined his body under the covers.
