“Can I…” His hand touched my arm—not forceful, just enough to freeze me in place. The rest of the sentence died on his lips.
I turned toward him. “Yes?”
His hand dropped, leaving a warm tingle behind. “You weren’t at dinner. We haven’t really had a chance to talk, and I’m?—”
“I know who you are.” The sharp words slipped out before I could stop them.
He gave a tight nod. “Right. And I know you know.” It sounded almost exasperated. “I wanted to apologize for being late yesterday.” His jaw tightened.
God, he was insufferable. It was a miracle he and his ego fit into this hallway—which, now that I noticed, was pretty cramped with the two of us standing this close.
I took a half-step back.
His eyes dropped to the books I was holding. Crap.
I quickly shifted them behind my back.
“What’ve you got there?” His chin tilted toward me.
I took a breath—which unfortunately meant inhalinghim.Woodsy and musky, with hints of leather and pine. He smelled… stupidly good.
“Nothing,” I said, backing away another step. “Stuff.”
“Stuff?” He stepped closer. The suspicion in his voice was almost playful.
I couldn’t let him see the book.Hisbook. He’d think I was some weird fan-girl creeping around in the middle of the night for John Kater memorabilia. Like coffee cups or used tissues. Which, now that I thought about it, would probably do well on eBay.
I shook my head. “Random, unimportant things. Why? Am I under arrest?”
My bare feet hit the wall behind me. I’d literally backed myself into a corner.
There was the ghost of a crooked smile before it vanished again. Or maybe I imagined it.
He stopped when his feet brushed mine. “I’m not a cop, as you know. But if you’re stealing things from Lew’s house, I might have to call in backup.”
There was a spark in his eye that told me he was enjoying this. My brain spun. What if hedidthink I was stealing? Would he tell the organizers? Could I get kicked out?
“I wasn’t stealing. Just… borrowing. For inspiration.” I lifted my chin.
John slid his hands back into his pockets like we were talking about the weather instead of standing toe-to-toe in a dark hallway.
He tilted his head. “Then why the hiding?”
“Fine,” I muttered and handed him one of the books.
He looked down at Elliot’s title, raising an eyebrow.Come on,it seemed to say. Then he stretched out his hand. “The other one.”
My pride wasn’t worth being disqualified. I shoved it at him. He flinched slightly when my fingers grazed his chest. I recoiled as if I’d touched a hot stove. It felt like one.
He caught the book, glanced at the title, then turned the cover toward me.
“Weird thing to steal.” But instead of smugness, his face showed confusion.
I crossed my arms. “Didn’t steal it. Just…”
My eyes flicked upward, as if a less-cringy answer might be written on the ceiling. No such luck.
“This one isn’t even signed,” he said, flipping through the first few pages. “Unlike the one I gave you.”
