Page 57

Torch notices me wince.

“Head?”

“Traitorous little thing.”

“Madison.”

“A bit.”

He brushes wet hair away from my face.

“Then we're getting you dried off.”

I groan.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“I'd like to file a complaint.”

“With who?”

“Whoever's in charge of customer satisfaction.”

“That'd be me.”

“Well, your service is excellent, but your hours are terrible.”

He laughs.

Then kisses my forehead.

“I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart.”

I look up at him.

Something about those words settles beneath my ribs.

I came here determined to uncover what this man was hiding.

Now I'm standing in his arms, wishing he'd stop being so easy to like.

It's a deeply inconvenient development.

And judging by the way he keeps looking at me while handing me a towel, I'm not the only one having trouble.

Later, I'm sitting naked on the edge of the bed, watching Torch pull on a pair of black briefs.

An excellent view.

Unfortunately, he follows them with a clean T-shirt, covering that magnificent chest.

A terrible waste of perfectly good scenery.

He catches me staring.

“Something you need?”