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“Personal experience isn’t a prerequisite to common sense. There’s pasta, a chickpea salad, a quinoa dish I can’t pronounce, and some dumplings. What do you want?”
“You’re the one who should eat. You’ve only had a bagel and half an apple all day. You must be starving.”
She couldn’t catch the words in time; they fled from her mouth and heat suffused her cheeks as she realized what she’d just revealed – that she’d been watching him, mentally noting his consumption as though she were some kind of stalker.
“I remember details,” she snapped, before he could point out her slip.
“Remembering details is important.” He grinned though, and her insides began to bubble as though she was filled with just-shaken soda.
“You know, if you were anyone else, I’d have interviewed you before letting you work for me.”
He pulled out a container and held it for her to see. She nodded, without looking at the words inked across the top in Alice’s neat writing. “And you’re annoyed you didn’t get to interview me?”
“Not annoyed,” she shook her head, wishing her brain were a little less fuzzy. She sipped the water, wincing as the glass dropped more heavily than she’d intended onto the marble counter.
“You don’t like having the decision taken away from you.”
“Not really.”
“So interview me. See if you agree with your brother’s judgement.”
“Would it make a difference if I disagreed?”
“That’s between you and Gray.”
“So you’d leave if I asked you to?”
“We’re giving each other a week,” he replied cryptically, as he finished filling a bowl with the quinoa salad before looking through drawers and removing a fork. He pushed the meal towards her, watching, arms crossed, as she ate. She shoveled some of the meal into her mouth; it was delicious but she was far more interested in him and this conversation than she was Alice’s exceptional cooking.
He pulled another container out – the pasta – scooped it in a bowl then placed it in the microwave.
“What time do you need to leave for Paris?”
She frowned. “I thought I was going to interview you?”
“You want to do that now?”
No. She wanted to do something else right now, but the very X-rated direction of her thoughts spelled trouble with a capital ‘t’ and she was already in enough of that. “Yes.” She couldn’t meet his eyes.
“You’re going to need more clothes,” she realized belatedly. “And where are you staying?”
“My office will send a suitcase tomorrow. I’m staying here with you.”
Her lips parted. “You’re – what?”
“What part of me becoming your shadow don’t you understand?”
Her heart was thumping so hard she was surprised he couldn’t hear it. “But…once I’m safe in the house, surely…”
“No. Move on.” The microwave beeped.
“Has anyone ever told you you’re bossy?”
“You did, about five minutes ago. Eat your dinner.”
She glared at him, her heart pounding, and she wanted to tell him that while he undoubtedly made her feel safe from whoever was stalking her, his presence made her feel wild and dangerous in a way that terrified her.
“I presume you have a guest room somewhere in this place?”
