And no one but my boss, Eamon, had my new address.
Chapter two
Farrow
Iwoke before Dane.
He lay on his back, one arm bent above his head, with the sheet shoved low on his hips. His breathing was slow and even. The faint mark I’d left low on the side of his throat was visible in the gray morning light.
Cop, security, bodyguard. He had to be one of those. He was constantly scanning for the nearest exits.
And he was gorgeous. Compact, muscular body. He had dark brown, nearly black, hair with a fade on the sides. There was a pair of luscious, kissable lips and unexpected blue eyes that softened the picture just enough.
I watched him as his bare chest rose and fell, with the sheet draped around his morning wood.
In sleep, face was relaxed, unguarded, and I couldn’t look away.
“Don’t get attached,” I muttered, and climbed out of bed.
The floor was cold. Rain still tapped at the windows. It was slower now, not the driving squalls we’d come through the night before.
I pulled on my jeans, grabbed my shirt off the floor, and headed for the kitchen. I found a glass in the second cabinet I opened and filled it from the tap. I drank it fast, leaning against the counter.
It had been worth it.
Behind me, bare feet padded into the room. I didn’t turn.
“Do you always make yourself at home like that?” he asked, his voice still raspy with sleep.
I smiled into the rim of the glass. “Morning to you too, Dane.”
“You didn’t answer the question.”
“You already know the answer, and you don’t like it.” I set the glass down.
I turned and leaned against the counter. He’d stopped near the couch, eyes on me. Any tenderness from the night before was fading. He studied my posture and my hands.
“You headed for my kitchen without hesitation.”
I smiled. “And I took you apart on your couch in your living room last night without missing a beat, too.”
He let out a breath, but he didn’t speak. He wouldn’t push me at seven in the morning, but I expected he’d carry the questions into his day, running them back and forth in his mind.
“And my bathroom. You knew—“
I took a step toward him. “Relax,” I said, easy. “It’s a furnished apartment. I’ve been in ones like this multiple times.” I smoothed the front of my shirt. “There’s only so many places a man can hide the towels.”
I didn’t convince him, but he didn’t nag either. That told me everything I needed to know. Dane Fletcher didn’t drop things. He shelved them.
He moved through his morning as if I were already gone. He started his coffee and put bread in the toaster.
I stepped out of the way, pulling on my rain boots and checking my phone. . At the door, I paused.
He stood at the counter, coffee in hand.
“Hey,” I called, “Goodnight.”
He sipped. “It’s morning.”