Dammit.
This stops now.
“I thought you’d be in there longer; otherwise I would have brought a change of clothes.”
It’s surprising how much I have to force my voice to remain calm.
Unaffected.
Like her physical response to me standing here isn’t making my blood run hotter in my veins.
“What?” she manages, the word breathy and slightly apologetic like her gaze wasn’t raking over me.
Again.
“I—”
“Yes, sorry,” she rushes out. “It’s been a really long day, and I got some words in—like a brain dump, you know? Just all of it out on the page. I’m sure most of it is garbage and I’ll have to delete it, but I neverdelete,delete it. All the words I cut go into another file for a rainy day. Do you ever do that? Probably not. You’re very meticulous I can tell so that would probably stressyou out. Do you get stressed?” She laughs, her hands balling into fists. “Mm-hmm, okay, I’m going to bed.”
“Sorry about this, Kat.”
“Nope, totally fine.” Moving around me, she nods, her gaze now anywhere but on me. “This is good. Great even. We got this out of the way.”
“Got…”
“This,”—she motions between us—“the awkwardness. We’ve gotten it out of the way. I mean a girl gets to see her bodyguard almost naked the first night he’s in her house. I’ll probably have to write that into a book or something.”
“Kat…”
“So anyway, goodnight, Tom. Thanks for dinner”—blushing furiously, she squares her shoulders and gives me a flirty smile, like she was finally able to pull herself together enough to make an exit—“and a show.”
And exit, she does.
As she turns on her heel, I let myself watch her sashay the last few feet to her room.So damn perfect.
The door opens and closes without her giving me a backward glance, and it’s a good thing too because how the hell would I explain myself?
Stalking toward the guest room, I make a note to put a fucking bell on her office door so this never happens again. I’m a god damn professional and I don’tlustafter clients.
Because that’s what this is.
But it’s not.
The level of restraint required not to slam the door behind me in protest is unreal, my body tense as I drag my hand through my hair.
What was she doing in her office?
Writing would be the obvious answer, but she was flushed when she first appeared in the doorway.Was she writing something hot? Sexy? Was she turned on?
What in the absolute fuck is wrong with me?
Growling, I rip the towel from my body and hang it on the hook on the back of the door before pulling clothes from the bag I’d grabbed from my car after dinner. There’s one in every vehicle I own.
At work.
Safe houses.
Anywhere and everywhere I might need to be at a moment’s notice.
