Page 44 of Win a Date with a Detective

RACHEL

There is a naked detective in my apartment.

A very handsome, very muscular, very naked detective. And he’s making coffee.

As if the universe hasn’t already blessed me with enough reasons to fall in love with this man, apparently, he also knows how to operate a coffee maker.

I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling.

Last night was incredible.

Actually, incredible doesn’t begin to describe it.

Last night was the kind of experience that makes a woman reconsider every romantic decision she’s ever made. Including the decision to spend the better part of the last three years watching true-crime documentaries instead of dating.

Although, technically, that’s how I ended up here. So maybe everything worked out exactly as it should.

I grin.

Then I hear Bronson’s voice. “Rachel?”

Oh, that’s nice.

“I’m alive!” I call.

A moment later, he appears in my bedroom doorway. Wearing nothing but a pair of boxer briefs. And carrying two mugs of coffee.

I sit up. “Detective.”

He smiles. “Good morning.”

“Are you aware that you’re committing a very serious crime?”

His eyebrows rise. “Am I?”

“Absolutely.”

He approaches the bed. “What crime would that be?”

I accept the coffee. “Looking that good before I’ve had caffeine.”

He laughs. Then leans down and kisses me.

And suddenly, coffee seems considerably less important.

Half an hour, and two reheated cups of coffee later, we’re sitting in my kitchen.

Bronson has somehow managed to locate the ingredients necessary to make breakfast. Which is impressive, considering I wasn’t entirely certain I possessed them. I usually grab something at the bakery.

“How did you find everything?” I ask.

He glances over his shoulder. “I’m a detective.”

I roll my eyes. “Of course you are.”

He grins.

Watching a handsome man cook breakfast in my kitchen might officially be my new favorite hobby. Particularly when he’s wearing my apron.