Page 68 of Her Captivated Hero

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Why is Gray’s side of the bed cold?Riya pushed further and finally found warmth, but Einstein’s fur wasn’t the same thing as Gray’s sleek flesh.

She pushed up on her pillow, then looked at the clock on her nightstand. Three o’clock in the morning? Where was Gray? Einstein butted his head against her arm. She gave him a few strong strokes. “You’re nice and all, but I was really hoping for something yummier.”

Riya got up and picked up all of her clothes and threw them in her laundry basket, then put on her sleepshirt, sweatpants and fuzzy socks. Hot chocolate sounded good. Maybe Gray had gotten hungry, but she doubted it, he would have been back by now. His pillow had been too cool and Einstein had been too comfy.

When she got halfway down the stairs she saw Gray sitting on the couch with his laptop. He must have brought it in from his car. She saw the glasses he was wearing and felt a tingle go through her body. He looked so distinguished. Then there was the hint of blond stubble. He was hot, with a capital ‘H’.

Down girl.

And he’d said he loved her. She gripped the railing tighter.

“I hear you.”

Gray didn’t turn his head, he continued to concentrate on whatever was on the screen in front of him.

“I didn’t make any noise. You couldn’t have heard me,” Riya protested.

“But I did. Why did you stop? Aren’t you coming downstairs?”

She came down and sat next to him. He shut the laptop as she snuggled next to him. “Is it confidential?”

“’Fraid so.”

“I was going to make cocoa, want some?”

“I don’t have the chocolate tooth you do. I think I’ll pass.”

“Hot milk?” she asked.

“That sounds nasty.”

She laughed as she got up from the couch and started for the kitchen. He followed her. He opened up the cupboard above the refrigerator and took out the antacid bottle.

“Old man, you need reading glasses and antacids?”

“You’re supposed to respect your elders,” Gray said as he leaned against the counter and watched her put a mug of water in the microwave. She ogled him out of the corner of her eye, but as she did she saw that he was looking at her oddly. She pulled the mug out and mixed the cocoa in.

“Gray, what’s wrong?”

He sighed. That was odd. She didn’t remember him being a man who sighed. She set the mug down on the counter.

“Darn it.” She grabbed a paper towel and wiped up where some spilled because her hand had trembled.

“Riya, nothing’s wrong.”

“That’s not true. You’re acting funny.”

He picked up her mug and set it on the kitchen bar, then pulled out a barstool for her to sit on. He sat beside her.

“Just tell me, Gray. I hate not understanding something.”

He pulled her hands out of her lap, and held them. “Miranda said you suffer from Asperger’s syndrome.”

He was looking so concerned, she tried not to wince at his use of the word ‘suffer’. Her heart started to beat fast. She took a deep breath. She tried to make sense of his expression. Concerned, maybe? But what does it mean?

“Okay, so she told you today? Why?”