“Mornin’.” I allow myself a grin at her discomfort. It’s nice to know I’m not the only one thrown off balance.
“Um… morning. I was just going to get wet…” Her eyes round in horror. “That is… I was going to take a shower! I didn’t realize you were all, erm, wet a-and stood there.”
I step to one side. “Don’t let me stop you.”
Jess nods. “Right, thanks.”
In the narrow hallway, she has no choice but to push past me. Her shoulder skims my damp chest and I turn my attention to the sweet little ass encased in tartan print shorts. I’m caught looking when she shuts the door. Her wide eyes flicker with need before she slams it to.
I allow myself a chuckle. I’m an ass, being amused by her reaction but, damn, the woman’s spent so long torturing me, it’s nice to see her thrown off balance . I just wish it didn’t send a jolt of guilt through me too. I should not be encouraging her.
After getting dressed into some old jeans and a plain dark blue T-shirt, I head downstairs and force myself not to imagine Jess all slick and wet. Wonder if she’s really wet. Fuck knows, I’m aroused at the mere idea of her showering only feet away from me.
I make coffee and buttered toast. The scent of strong caffeine and burnt crumbs brings me back to reality. I sit at the dining table and shovel in a slice of toast while I ponder the problem that is Jess. I’ve got so little time left on this job, it’s not even funny. Now she’s in danger. It’s so messed up, you couldn’t make this shit up. One way or another, I need to get to the bottom of this before my time runs out and I lose this house and my business for good.
When the pad of feet finally sounds, I’m more awake and determined. Her gaze flits from the freshly poured coffee to me and back again.
“Made you breakfast. Well, sort of breakfast. Sorry, don’t have company much.” I eye her slightly crumpled suit and feel a pang of sympathy. The black trousers and white silky shirt make her look so innocent and the creases only add to the affect. It makes me wish I’d never taken this job. I’m dreading bringing her world down around her.
“Thanks.” She sits opposite, snatches a piece of toast and nibbles uncertainly.
I shove the mug of coffee toward her. “Milk and sugar right?”
Jess smiles. My heart flips. “Right.”
“So listen, I’ll take you to work—”
“You don’t have to.”
I stare her down. “It’s too dangerous to be on your own.”
“Don’t you have a job to do?”
“Joys of being your own boss.”
“Are you on a case?”
Swallowing, I nod. “But I’m going go and check out your apartment today.”
“Why?”
“To see if anything else has happened.” Damn the woman and her questions. “Maybe he’s sent another note.”
“I don’t see why you need to—”
“Just… trust me, okay?”
Jess frowns “I do.”
The words strike me like a knife to the heart but I continue regardless. “So just leave me your keys and I’ll check it out while I’m working. Also, my friend Mitch is going to meet us at the bank. He’s a bodyguard. I’m going to have him hang around for a bit.” Though I called him last night, I’ve yet to ask him to keep an eye on Jess for any odd behaviour as well. Something that might lead me to the money.
“Is that really necessary? It all seems a bit much.”
“You were shot at, Jess. It’s very necessary. Mitch is a highly trained and experienced bodyguard. There’s no one else I trust more with my life.”
She traces the rim of the coffee cup. “Oh I’m sure he is. I just don’t know how I’m going to explain someone hanging around and following my every move.”
Is she fighting this because she doesn’t want to be followed, fearing it might get in the way of whatever she’s up to? Or is it just discomfort at the idea of being watched over?”
“Mitch is an expert. You won’t even know he’s there.”
“I guess I don’t have much choice.”
“Not if you value your life.”
She finishes of her slice of toast and I try not stare at those white teeth and sexy lips. To distract myself, I begin clearing the table, fighting the knot of guilt in my gut.
Jess brings over her coffee cup and plate and I dump them in the sink. “We’d better get going,” I tell her. “Traffic might be bad. Can I get your keys to check your apartment out?” I throw it lightly out there, trying to slide the question in.
“Yeah, I guess so. I don’t know what you expect to find.” She goes to her handbag now hanging in the hallway.
Handing me the keys, she swings the bag over the shoulder and stares at me with those guileless eyes. I fold the keys into my palm, the sensation of the metal hot and heavy against my skin. She has no idea I’m trying to bring her down. If she’s truly a criminal, why does it feel so wrong? I shake my head. If she’s innocent, I won’t find anything, right? Either way, I’ve got to find out for sure.
“What?” she asks.
“Nothing,” I say gruffly and snap my attention away. “Let’s go.”