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‘No, but I’m observant.’
‘Coffee, Ro. Coffee’s the solution.’
‘Or you could go back to sleep?’
She patted his hand and slipped from the bed.
The bathroom was full of the kind of expensive shower gels and moisturisers that Ro adored. The shower rose was as big as a dinner plate and delivered enough pressure to make her groan. She felt well used this morning, a little tender in places as she sluiced up and washed away the remnants of last night’s lovemaking.
She looked in the mirror once she’d finished and saw a slight woman with small breasts, slender hips, and a funny face that had always been unique rather than beautiful. She leaned closer and looked into her eyes and felt every single one of her forty years. No make-up, just pale porcelain skin and lines of responsibility etched around her eyes and between her brows.
Too old for him, a nagging voice whispered, and she couldn’t silence it.
She was too caught up in her work to have any sort of meaningful relationship. Last night … Jared West … she’d known what he’d needed, that was all, and she’d offered a mutually beneficial exchange, seeing as their wants and needs had coincided.
Why, then, did last night feel like such a precious gift?
He was up and moving when she came out of the bathroom wearing yesterday’s clothes and a dusting of make-up. He had his jeans on and his shirt in hand and he smiled and slipped past her on his way to the bathroom.
‘Give me five minutes,’ he murmured.
She should leave.
Instead she headed for the kitchenette and finished what he’d started when it came to the making of coffee. It wasn’t going to be particularly good coffee, mind, but the little machine was doing its best and she was grateful for it.
Jared joined her a few minutes later, and the expression of pure appreciation on his face would have been gratifying indeed had it been directed at her rather than at the beverage.
‘Thanks,’ he muttered when she pushed the mug towards him.
‘My pleasure.’ She smiled wryly. ‘How do you feel this morning?’
He took his time answering. ‘Quiet. Empty. I slept. You? How do you feel?’
Rowan held steady under the sudden intensity of his gaze. ‘Responsible,’ she offered truthfully. ‘Wary.’
She watched his gaze harden.
‘You don’t need to be either of those things.’
‘Grateful,’ she said next, and sipped her coffee and studied him over the rim of the mug. He was pretty when he scowled. ‘Grateful for your trust.’
He ran his hand through his hair and for a moment he looked so lost.
‘I’m not—’ he began. ‘I’m not always like that in bed.’
‘What are you usually like?’
‘Dominant.’
‘Sometimes people switch.’
He didn’t look convinced. ‘Not me. Not often. Ro … last night was all about me, and I’m sorry, because it shouldn’t have been. What do you want out of this? What do you need?’
Now it was Rowan’s turn to feel lost and uncertain. ‘I don’t know what I want from you, or what I’m likely to need. I enjoy your company. Your body.’ And, truth be told, she enjoyed his current vulnerability.
His gaze skated to her bare upper arm. ‘I know it’s a little late, but what about pregnancy?’
‘I have long-term contraception in place.’ A lot of agents did.
‘I figured,’ he muttered. ‘Still should have checked.’
‘It wasn’t just your responsibility.’
‘Yeah.’ He ran his hand through his hair—that nervous gesture of his again. ‘Things are different with you in the mix. I’m getting that loud and clear.’
‘Is that a bad thing?’
He set his coffee down abruptly, took hers from her suddenly nerveless fingers as well. And then he framed her face and kissed her, and she felt the hunger and the desperation in him all the way to her soul. By the time he pulled back they were both breathing hard and her hunger was probably a match for his.
‘No, it’s not bad at all,’ he muttered roughly. ‘You scare the hell out of me. I scare the hell out of me. But I want more of this. Whatever this is.’ He pulled back. ‘I’m going to make some decisions today—career and lifestyle-altering decisions. I hope you’ll bear with me. I hope you’ll still want me.’
‘Jared—’ She badly wanted to see his confidence return, along with devilry and laughter. She wanted life for him, and peace. ‘I think that’s a given.’
Jared sat at his temporary desk in the open-plan cubicle that was meant to be an office and stared at the two identical reports he’d just handwritten. He’d given them everything that he’d held back the first time. Every person who’d come looking for Antonov’s wares during his time with the man, every name he knew, the connections he’d fathomed, the business framework the now-deceased arms dealer had built. Handwritten—all of it. Not a copy in existence. No cards left to play any more.
