Page 34 of Unplanned Target

“It does.” I agree with her, trying to keep my answer a little vague like I did before when she pointed out the difference in her room and her daughter’s. “Is she comfortable?”

“She must be, because she’s asleep.” Miranda is quiet for a minute as we stare at each other, the silence hanging between us. “You put me in your room.”

I take a deep breath, standing taller. I’m pretty sure she’s going to argue with me over this, and I want it to be clear I’m not going to back down. “I did.”

Miranda blinks, seeming surprised at my honest admission. “But why?”

“Because you need the extra space more than I do. You work from home and it would be cramped to do that in a room like this one.” It’s a simple, reasonable explanation.

It’s not the only explanation, but that’s not currently relevant.

“That would make sense if I could work.” Miranda’s shoulders dip, making her seem sad and a little defeated. “But unless I can get back to my office, there’s no way to make that happen.”

“Because you keep your client files there?” I didn’t even think of that. I was just trying to get her up and running. It never occurred to me she might need her hard drive.

But maybe I could drive over and get it. Have it here and ready when the devices Heidi’s getting together arrive.

“No. They’re saved to the cloud. But everything else I need is there.” She starts listing out items. “My computer. My keyboard. My treadmill. My⁠—”

“Treadmill?” Maybe I should have someone send me a detailed list of what’s in her home office. Then I won’t have to guess at what she needs.

“I walk while I work.” Her nose scrunches in distaste. “Otherwise I’d be sitting on my ass twelve hours a day.”

“Twelve hours?” It hadn’t occurred to me that Miranda would work that much, but it’s not really that surprising. “That’s a long workday.”

She shrugs. “I don’t mind.” Her lips curve in a small smile. “I like what I do for the most part.” Miranda’s smile slips. “But that’s not what I came to talk to you about.” She points at me. “You need to stay in your own room. You’ve done so much for me. I’m not freaking taking your bed.”

The rate at which my body reacts to thoughts of Miranda being in my bed—even without me also in it—is swift. Her skin against my sheets. Her hair on my pillows. Her scent permeating the blankets as she curls up in the space where I sleep.

“You’re not taking it. I gave it to you.” My voice is a little rough, but hopefully she doesn’t notice.

But as usual, Miranda notices everything.

“And you sound so thrilled about it too.” Miranda comes to stand right in front of me, her big eyes locked onto my face. “You’ve already done so much for me and Allie. You cannot let me kick you out of your own space.”

I don’t know how to make her understand. Can’t figure out a way to explain this without making it sound...

Not great.

“Mir.” I bring my hands to her shoulders. “You have lost so much, so fast. I promise you, I will be fine sleeping in a king bed by myself.”

I feel like that was going pretty well until the last two words. It insinuates I don’t normally sleep by myself. Or, that I expect to one day not be sleeping by myself.

But while I don’t expect that, I am hoping for it. And I’m quickly narrowing down candidates for the position.

Like, really fucking quickly.

Miranda’s lips press into a frown, and I groan inwardly. Her eyes narrow. “Does someone normally sleep with you?”

I’m really going to have to watch what I say around her. I’ll give too much away and end up scaring her off before I even get the chance to see if we’re as well suited for each other as I’m beginning to think we might be.

“No.” I accidentally stroke my thumbs against the curve of her collarbone. “My bed has been empty for a very long time.”

Long enough, I don’t even remember when it was last occupied. My job keeps me busy. Between travel and everything else going on, I haven’t had much time to think about my solitude. At least not until recently when other members of my team started finding their perfect matches.

Then it started getting real hard to deny how much I wanted one of my own.

“Oh.” Miranda rubs her lips together, shifting a little on her feet. “It’s the same for me too.” The tip of her tongue flicks across her lower lip, wetting it in a move that threatens to consume all my attention. “I haven’t even gone out on a date since I got divorced.”