Page 43 of The Specialist

Stay with me.

I feel safe.

I will protect you.

I want to be with you.

You make me whole.

I never want to leave.

I will never let you go.

I love you.

Always.

Sofia sighed, the sound soft in the room.

I tapped the end of her nose. “I have a gift for you.”

“I don’t need a gift,” she protested, but she sat up, looking delighted.

Grinning, I handed her the gold box. She ran her finger over the sleek label and embossed lid. “So lovely,” she murmured.

“Open it.”

She lifted the lid and withdrew the elegant bottle. Mine looked as if it were carved from granite. Her more feminine container looked like etched crystal, the light playing off the facets. She studied it. “It is exquisite.”

I took the bottle from her hand and uncapped it. I applied a drop to her wrists and inner elbows, then behind her ears, and added a touch at the nape of her neck. I recapped it and handed it back to her. She waited a moment and lifted her wrist to her nose, inhaling.

“Egan,” she whispered. “This is beautiful.”

“I helped design it for you. Only you, Sofia. No one else will have this fragrance.”

“It reminds me of yours a little.”

I smiled, tucking a long strand of her dark hair over her shoulder. “They complement each other. They each hold a few of the same notes, but yours are sweeter. Like you.” I leaned forward, burying my nose in her neck and bringing her scent into my lungs. She smelled heavenly, the Asian florals and citrus the ideal combination for her. I turned my face and kissed her neck.

“Perfect.”

I eased back before I followed my instinct to tip her over and make love to her wearing nothing but the fragrance I had created for her.

She cupped my face. “Thank you.”

Beside her on the nightstand, her phone rang. She answered it with a frown. “Dr. DeSalvo.”

I got up, pulling on some sweats, and went to get us coffee. I had just poured the steaming liquid into the cups as she wandered into the kitchen wearing one of my shirts. I loved seeing her in my clothes. It felt intimate.

She sat at the counter. “No, that’s fine.” She frowned. “No, just one. No plus.” She listened for a moment. “Okay, Sally. We can be each other’s dates.” She laughed and said goodbye, hanging up. She took the mug from my hand.

“Dates?” I asked.

She took a long drink of coffee and ran a hand through her hair. “There is a dinner for the hospital to raise money in a week. I had forgotten about it, and Sally was calling to remind me I had to pay for my ticket. She knew I was seeing someone and asked if I was bringing them.” She regarded me sadly. “I assumed you couldn’t go with me since we’re doing the whole ‘not together’ thing. So I only got one ticket. Her husband is working, so we’ll sit together.”

I covered her hand, hating the note of disappointment in her voice, even as it pleased me. She would like me to go with her. Sit beside her. I wanted to as well, but the need to make sure she was safe was stronger.

“When is it?”