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Using the embroidered kitchen towel, she wafted as much of the meat-scented air out of the kitchen as she could, feeling ridiculous.

Silence.

Disappointment unfurled in her chest. She’d hoped he’d come downstairs so she could learn what information he had on Kyle. And maybe, just maybe, get to know him a little better too. She’d never admit it, not even under torture, but something about him pulled at her. Hard. Having researched the person he’d once been, she now desperately wanted to know who he’d become.

But tonight wasn’t that night. Maybe she shouldn’t have assumed that what had worked for a cat would also work for Oliver. Damn.

A stair creaked. The house settling, or Oliver? Gripping the towel, she waited.

Oliver appeared a minute later, shirtless, his soft cotton pants riding low. She counted every single one of his abs before she caught herself.

Turning to the stove, she stirred the already-done potatoes. The point of cooking the meal was to entice him downstairs—not to drag him to the bed that had occupied far too many of her thoughts these past few nights.

He stopped within inches of her. “What is this?”

With all the nonchalance she could muster, she stepped around him and plated both their dinners. “Dinner. I made extra. Want some?”

His hungry gaze raked over her—from her one bare shoulder all the way down to her socks, then back up again, like she was the meal.

Then the brackets around his mouth deepened and he took a deliberate step away. “What’s the catch?”

Leaving his steak and potatoes next to the stove, she grabbed hers and sat at the farthest corner of the table. Pressuring him in any way would only get him to run. She kept her voice light. “It’s dinner. Mine. And yours, if you’d like to join me.”

“I don’t.”

She sliced into her steak with a calm she didn’t feel. “Suit yourself. But there’s plenty extra if you change your mind.”

The look he gave her could have flattened beer.

Okay. Guess not.

But he didn’t move. His hand hovered over the plate on the counter, fingers flexing and then stilling, as though he couldn’t decide whether to take it upstairs or surrender and sit.

Don’t run away.

Stay. Come eat.

He lingered over the plate for a beat longer, shoulders hunched as he considered the offering.

On a sharp curse, he straightened and took a decisive step away from the counter. “Not hungry.”

And, as he’d come to do, he disappeared into the shadows.

Chapter 18

The bedroom light was off.

What the…

In the disorienting shadows of the house, Addison kept the light on in her room at all times. She’d expected to find it on after her solo steak dinner. Instead, the door opened into darkness.

She flipped the switch. Updownup. Nothing. Did the power go out? In this pitch-black place, it was hard to tell.

Oliver’s voice rumbled from just behind her. “Don’t turn around.”

Even if she did, it was not like she’d see him in the inky dimness, but she stayed put, anticipation firing along her nerve endings, slicking the inside of her thighs.

What was it about him that made her this instantly needy? It certainly wasn’t his effervescent personality. But something about being in a dark room with a virtual stranger apparently did it for her—especially when that stranger was Oliver.