His eyebrows rose.
“What?” She might be grumbling, but really, it’d been a long...day? Night? Not days yet, but things were going by in a blur. “The steam will help the worst of the wrinkles fall out and make ironing easier.”
Silence.
Already halfway into the bathroom with the hangers of clothes and her toiletries bag, she halted and leaned back to see him still standing in the doorway. “Something wrong?”
“Not particularly. You’re going to leave them in there with the water running?”
“No!” She huffed. A lock of hair fell in her face but she didn’t have the free hands to tuck it back where it belonged. Irritated, she continued, “It’d be a waste of water. I hang them up during my shower. If you’re taking a shower right after, I’ll leave them in here. Otherwise, I’ll take them out and start up the iron to take the rest of the wrinkles out.”
One corner of his mouth turned up in a lopsided grin. “Waste not. Good practice.”
She hesitated. “I guess you don’t need to steam or press your uniforms much overseas.”
He leaned against the door frame, somehow closer than he’d been when he’d handed over his shirt but without having taken a step inside the bedroom. “Well, there’s a balance we tend to find between not looking like a piece of sh—crap and not being too much of a princess either.”
“Okay.” And she should spit out her real question instead of waffling and keeping them both lingering in doorways. “You’re going to be out there, then?”
“I might go get ice down the hall.”
“Oh.” Perfectly reasonable. Why was her stomach twisting in knots thinking about it?
Gabe’s gaze grew sharper, the weight of it something she could feel on her skin. “I can wait until after we’re both finished showering.”
Her anxiety eased a little. “I’d...appreciate it.”
“No problem. I’ll be out here. Relax. It’s almost lunchtime over at the embassy and they won’t open up to see people again for a couple of hours.” He stepped back out of the doorway, pulling the door closed between them.
Chapter Eight
What was wrong with her? She bustled through hanging up the clothes and turning on the shower. It wasn’t until she was rinsing shampoo from her hair that she realized she was listening for the sound of doors opening and closing. He’d said he wouldn’t go anywhere. And she believed him. But part of her was wary of someone sneaking up on her.
Afraid.
With Gabe out there, it wasn’t as bad as it might have been. And earlier at the Centurion Corporation property, she’d felt insulated and secure. Surrounded by people who made it their business to protect people, among other things. But she hadn’t stopped moving along the way to let things sink in.
Her apartment had been violated.
If it hadn’t been for Gabe seeing her home, someone would have heard—and maybe watched—everything she’d have done on returning. Taking a shower. Going to sleep. When would they have taken advantage and come to finish what they’d started with the attempted hit-and-run? And who were they? What did it have to do with An-mei? The questions had been hovering in the back of her mind, on continuous repeat, all day.
Hot water scalded her skin as she tried to scrub away the worry.
Overthinking was a danger. Thoughts born of fear wouldn’t be constructive. She needed to change her line of thought. Gabe was right.
And what about him?
Fitful naps on the red-eye might count as sleep deprivation. Why else would her thoughts scatter at the sight of him? It’d happened repeatedly throughout the day as he returned from the car rental counter or from some random building at one of their multiple stops. Plus her heart rate was definitively erratic—both earlier and right there in the shower. Maybe she’d had too much coffee. She’d stopped counting cups after they left the airport.
Or she could be honest with herself and admit he was the most attractive man she’d ever encountered.
Turning off the water, she pushed aside the shower curtain and reached for a towel. The mirror was steamed over, showing only the softest outline of her reflection.
How did he see her?
When they’d met, he’d thought she was propositioning him. Heat burned her cheeks. Not the strongest first impression she’d ever given. And it wasn’t as if she spent much time interacting with men outside of business anyway. Night clubs and bars weren’t her thing. Cooking classes were fun, but most men signing up for those were already part of couples. The few men her stepmother had initially tried to match her with had all been completely wrong for her. Dating had been sporadic and without any sort of...spark to rate pursuing a further connection.