I didn’t want to talk about the hospital or the death of my patient, and I definitely didn’t want to talk about them with Calder.
Feeling my heart rate start to level off, I lowered my hands. I wasn’t prepared to see Calder crouched in front of me in gray sweatpants.And shirtless.
I was too shocked to keep my mouth from dropping. The humming in my veins solidified into something heavier. Something hotter and infinitely more electric.
My gaze slid down the taut band of hissternocleidomastoid, which ran from the base of his ear down to his sternum. That, I’d seen before. But lower ... hispectoralis majorsbulged as he hunched forward, defining both theclavicularhead and thesternocostalbody, and with only the dim light from ... somewhere behind me ... the shadows played tricks on my mind, hinting at the rise and fall of more abdominal muscles than there should be.
Why was his shirt off? Had he dirtied it while cleaning the dishes?
I turned to the counter, processing the cleanly stacked dishes next to the sink, and then, farther, found the source of light was coming from Calder’s bedroom.
My head whipped back. “What time is it?”
Hazel-gold orbs pinned me with concern. “Almost midnight.”
“Midnight?” I choked and sat up. “Why ... You were going to take me back to the Betty—”
“And then you fell asleep on the couch in .2 seconds and were more or less dead to the world,” Calder said firmly. “Figured it was better to let you sleep.”
Oh my god.I’d fallen asleep on his couch and he’d let me. He ...he’d put a blanket over me.And there was a pillow ... “I’m sorry. I guess the travel and everything caught up to me.” I threw the blanket off my legs. “I know it’s late, but can you take me back to the Betty? I’m sure they’re worried that I didn’t come back—”
“I called Jerry earlier and let him know you wouldn’t be back for a few nights.”
“You—” I snapped my mouth shut, realizing I sounded mad. Was I mad? I was the one who’d fallen asleep here, and it wasn’t like we weren’t going to meet up again first thing in the morning. No, I wasn’t mad, but I felt ... unsettled.
Like my mother, I took care of everyone around me. I took care of people for a living. But unlike my mother—becauseof her—I didn’t want anyone to take care of me. It was safer that way. And not only had Calder taken it upon himself to care for me tonight, but he’d also justwitnessed me at my most vulnerable. And that was as reckless as holding up a metal rod in the middle of a lightning storm.
“I’ll need to go back in the morning. To get my clothes ...”Clothes. Toiletries.
“We’ll leave early and stop on the way.”
He had an answer for everything.
“Okay.” My chin dipped, an acquiescence to the situation. “I guess I’m staying here, then.”
Calder stood, and my attention took another direct hit: His abdomen and waist were now at a perfect viewing angle from my seat. The definition of hisinguinalcreases, the “V,” as it was colloquially known, confirmed he had less than 5 percent body fat; the ridge wasn’t formed by muscles as they grew bigger, but by ligaments that became more defined the less body fat a person had. However, if I followed those lines beneath the waist of his sweats, there was a muscle—
“You’re welcome to take the bed, but I didn’t want to move you.”
“No.” I fired the word out as fast as I could. “The couch is fine.” There was no chance I was sleeping in Calder’s bed. Not with him. Not without him. Not on his pillow. Not with his scent.Not with my fantasies.
I didn’t want—couldn’t want—anything from this man except his expertise and help in finding my sister. Not his secrets. Not his story. Not the feel of his touch, nor the taste of his lips. And definitely not the way that wild gaze promised to devour me if it was ever unleashed.
His intense scrutiny brought goose bumps to my skin. “Okay.”
“Thank you,” I said softly, pulling the blanket back over my legs and turning away from him.
This time when I closed my eyes, all I saw were endless planes of hard, tanned muscle and hungry hazel eyes.
Chapter 9
Calder
Rule #30: Move at the pace of observation, not desperation.
“Don’t,” I warned in a low voice as Lara strayed toward her former rusty red Volvo in the parking lot.
I placed my hand on her lower back and drew her close. “There are cameras facing the lot and no reason for you to be snooping around a car you shouldn’t recognize,” I murmured, making sure my head blocked the sound and the view from the footage.
